THE NORTH ATLANTIC — 02:17 AM
Rain hammered the armored deck of the Crimson Leviathan, a submersible fortress-ship owned by the Thorn dynasty. Silas Thorn hunched in the downpour, wrists cuffed behind him, seawater sluicing off his ten-thousand-dollar trench coat.
Two stone-faced enforcers-his own father's personal guard-shoved him toward the ship's dive-chamber.
No kin kills kin.
The Thorn Dynasty's oldest law broken.
When Silas hires a sniper to put a bullet through his nephew's skull. A calculated play to blame Aris's murder on rival syndicates, burying his own treason, selling family secrets to make big moves to control some power in the family.
But the shot missed his nephew Aris and tore through Estelle Vance.
Aris's nanny. The second woman who'd ever shown kindness to Aris when he was a neglected child
His childhood caretaker.
A woman who smelled of lavender and forgiveness
"You didn't just kill the staff, you idiot. You killed your family." The Thorn patriarch snarled before signing the transport order and abusing his son for the stupid mistake he made.
"You didn't just break the law, Silas." His father, Patriarch Atticus Thorn, said, staring out at the storm as guards zip-tied Silas's hands.
"You made my heir your enemy."
"And I trained that boy myself."
"Now we have to take some excessive measures before Aris retaliates."
"I don't want any bloodshed and fighting among families, but what you did will not go unpunished and with that said we need to calm the situation by hiding you for a while."
Unbeknownst to them that above the sky, as the rain descended, a black little dot was above them, unseen to anyone looking up. But in a rainy storm like this, I doubt anyone can look up.