Chapter 164

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the bedroom floor. Sophia stretched lazily, her fingers brushing against the empty space beside her.

Liam had already left for school, and the house was eerily quiet.

She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. The events of last night replayed in her mind—Ethan’s unexpected visit, the tension between them, the way his gaze had lingered on her lips before he abruptly left.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Isabella’s name flashed across the screen.

"Call me when you’re awake. We need to talk."

Sophia frowned. Her sister rarely sounded this urgent.

She dialed immediately.

Isabella picked up on the first ring. "Finally. I was starting to think you’d sleep all day."

Sophia sat up, rubbing her temple. "What’s going on?"

"You won’t believe who I just ran into."

A pause.

"Olivia."

Sophia’s breath hitched. Ethan’s secretary. The woman who had made her life hell during the divorce.

"What did she want?"

Isabella’s voice dropped. "She was at the café, whispering to some guy in a suit. Looked shady. Then she spotted me and bolted."

Sophia’s grip tightened around her phone. Olivia had no reason to be in town unless Ethan had sent her.

But why?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the front door.

"Hold on," she muttered, sliding out of bed.

She padded downstairs, her bare feet silent against the hardwood. Through the peephole, she saw Daniel—his jaw set, his expression unreadable.

Her stomach twisted.

She yanked the door open. "Daniel?"

His eyes darkened as they met hers. "We have a problem."

Behind her, Isabella’s voice crackled through the phone. "Sophia? What’s happening?"

But Sophia couldn’t answer.

Because Daniel held up a single photograph—one that made her blood run cold.

It was Liam.

And standing beside him, a shadowy figure with a gun.

"Keep your damn mouth shut if you know what's good for you."

I twist against the ropes, my wrists burning from the friction. There was no way in hell I was staying tied up like this. Not with her. Not with whatever twisted game they were playing.

"Nothing like a little girl fight to spice things up. Should I untie you two and let you hash it out?" A deep voice cuts through the tension.

I hadn’t even heard the door open. Too focused on Isabella. Stupid. So stupid.

"Go ahead. Untie me. After I’m done with her, you’re next," I snap, letting the venom drip from my words.

The man just laughs. Of course he does. To him, I’m nothing. A fly to swat away.

"I’d love to see you try."

I roll my eyes. "Is this really how you get your kicks? Kidnapping women? Does it make you feel powerful, drugging someone who can’t fight back?"

"Shut your mouth!" he roars, his face twisting into something ugly.

He takes a step toward me, his body coiled like a predator.

"Or what?" I challenge.

"What the hell are you doing? Stop provoking him!" Isabella hisses, her voice trembling.

I ignore her, smirking up at the brute. "They should cut off your balls. Any man who has to drug women isn’t a man at all."

I don’t even know why I’m pushing him. Maybe because feeling helpless makes me reckless.

His fist moves faster than I can blink. The impact rattles my teeth, sends white-hot pain exploding through my skull.

For a second, everything goes black. My ears ring. The metallic taste of blood floods my mouth.

When my vision clears, I spit a mouthful of red onto his boots.

"What the hell is going on here?"

A new voice. Cold. Commanding.

The brute stiffens. "Sorry, boss. She was pissing me off."

Footsteps echo as the man steps into view.

Tattoos snake up his arms, but that’s not what catches my attention.

It’s his face.

Sharp green eyes. Black hair that falls just right. Cheekbones that could cut glass. Lips that belong on a damn romance cover.

He radiates power. The kind that makes the air thick. The kind that could give Ethan Blackwood a run for his money—and that’s saying something.

I glance at Isabella. She’s staring, slack-jawed. Guess I’m not the only one struck stupid.

"I don’t care what she said. You don’t touch them." His voice is a lethal growl.

The temperature in the room drops. The kind of cold that slithers down your spine.

I shake my head, trying to clear the fog. What the hell was that? Some kind of hypnotic charm?

"Who are you?" I demand. "What do you want with us?"

The tattooed god smiles. Slow. Dangerous.

"Damien Slade," he says, like it should mean something. "As for why you’re here? Simple. Your ex-husband crossed me. Now, it’s payback time."

My heart stutters.

Ethan.

This is about Ethan.

He keeps talking, his voice smooth as poison. "He nearly destroyed my empire. Now, I’m going to return the favor."

The realization hits me like a truck.

"You’re part of the Reapers," I whisper.

His laugh is ice down my spine.

"No, sweetheart. I’m not part of the Reapers." He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. "I am the Reaper."

Fuck.

This just went from bad to catastrophic.

And it’s all my father’s fault.

He should’ve stayed out of Ethan’s business.