The valley looked like something a god once loved—rolling green stretching to the horizon, flowers scattered like paint, trees swaying in an obedient breeze. But in the heart of all that softness, the castle sat like a contradiction. Dark stone. Tall shadows. Iron-laced balconies and spires reaching like thorns. People who passed it on the road never said its name. They didn't have to. The fear it inspired was its own identity.
Inside the grand dining hall—vaulted ceilings, black chandeliers, and a table far too long for a family of three—Ice sat with a plate she was barely tasting. Her fathers sat at their usual ends of the triangle, close enough to watch her, far enough not to corner her.
"Princess?" Sochai said, glancing up from his tea.
She didn't even blink. "Just Ice would sound better coming from you, Dad. But if it were my dearest mom Keerin saying it, I'd definitely love it."
Keerin arched a slow brow. "Oh, really?"
"Of course. I've seen how you are with each other. If you called Mom 'princess,' he'd melt into the floor."
"You keep calling me Mom," Keerin muttered, though not truly angry.
"And I still fail to see the problem," she said, slicing her fruit with casual precision.
Sochai sighed, folding his hands. "We know we have our differences, Ice. But if something is bothering you, you can talk to us. We are your parents."
"Yes, darling," Keerin added with a gentler tone. "If you don't want to talk to him, you can talk to me."
She set down her fork and stared at them like they'd both grown horns. "What's with the sudden emotional support?"
"The way you handled the defendant in court the other day was…" Sochai searched for a word. "…terrifying."
"You scared the life out of them," Keerin finished. "And the judges."
"I was doing my job. I don't get paid to play around."
Sochai leaned back in his chair. "Sure. But most lawyers don't turn cross-examination into psychological execution."
Keerin gave a slow nod. "And most daughters don't enjoy it as much as you did."
She ignored that and reached for her juice.
Keerin set his cup down delicately. "Speaking of enjoyment… I heard from a few sources that Raven was at the bar you visited two nights ago."
Her hand froze. The glass tipped, and juice spilled across the table, splattering onto Sochai's lap.
"What?" she snapped, eyes sharp.
Sochai dabbed his shirt with a napkin. "Easy there, young lady."
Keerin continued, unbothered. "Yes. He went with a man."
Ice's jaw tightened.
"You should keep that best friend in check," Sochai said, clicking his tongue. "You can't keep protecting him if he enjoys torture too much—especially the pleasurable kind."
He threw a sly wink at Keerin, who groaned quietly.
Ice had already mentally left the table.
Without excusing herself, she pulled out her phone and rose from her chair.
Keerin watched her move toward the arched doorway. "Careful, darling. Don't break the castle in your dramatic exit."
She didn't bother replying.
In the corridor, where portraits of dead Mafiosi watched from gilded frames, she dialed.
It rang once.
Raven: Hey, Ice.
Ice: Let's meet. Your office. Less people.
Raven: Okay. Good call.
She ended the call before he could speak further.
Behind her, Keerin appeared in the doorway, arms folded. "You do realize scolding him won't stop him from doing what he wants?"
She didn't turn. "I'm not scolding him."
"So what are you doing?"
"Preventing a corpse."
Keerin hummed. "His or someone else's?"
She walked away without answering.
---
Raven's office sat in the upper floors of a glass-sided building overlooking the city—sleek, quiet, and too refined to reveal what he truly was beneath the polished surface. The receptionist barely had time to greet her before Ice strode past, heels silent but presence sharp. People moved out of her way without knowing why.
She didn't knock.
Raven looked up from behind his desk just as the door opened. His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbow, tie undone, hair swept back like he'd tried to appear casual but failed at hiding the tension in his shoulders.
"You're early," he said, forcing ease into his voice.
"You're stupid," she replied, stepping inside and closing the door with a soft click.
That was Ice—no greetings, no small talk, straight to the throat.
Raven leaned back in his chair, feigning innocence. "So we're starting like that today."
She crossed the room and sat on the couch instead of taking the chair opposite his desk. She didn't remove her coat. "You went to a bar."
He blinked once. "Ice—"
"Save it," she cut in. "You didn't tell me. You didn't tell anyone."
He ran a hand over his jaw. "I'm not required to give you a schedule of my nightlife."
"You are when your nightlife involves places that exist off record."
He stared at her, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
Ice reclined slightly, legs crossed, gaze unblinking. "You think I don't know the kind of people who move through that bar? The kind of men who walk in without names, leave with blood on their hands, and own half the city from the shadows?"
She didn't raise her voice. She didn't have to.
Raven hated when she did this—when she cornered him with silence sharper than a blade.
"I didn't go there to die," he muttered.
"Good," she said. "Because that's exactly what happens to men like you when they wander into dens that don't want them back out."
He let out a low breath. "Ice—"
"And don't insult me by pretending you were just having a drink," she continued. "You stood out. You always do. They would've seen you the second you stepped inside."
He swallowed, recalling a pair of eyes that had felt like a hand around his throat. "I handled myself."
"Did you?" Her gaze flicked over him—noticing the slight mark fading near his collarbone, the way his fingers hovered near it unconsciously.
She filed that away without a word.
Raven forced a smirk. "You don't own me."
"No," she agreed. "But I know what happens to pretty things when they don't understand the rules of the dark."
He went still.
She leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Listen very carefully. If you're going to tangle with that world—any part of it—you don't go in blind. And you don't go in alone. If something happens to you because you kept me out of it, I will not drag your body from whatever hole they leave you in."
It was a lie. They both knew it.
Raven exhaled quietly, finally meeting her eyes. "Noted."
"No," she said flatly. "Not 'noted.' Understood."
A beat of silence.
He nodded once.
She stood, smoothing her coat. "And Raven?"
He arched a brow.
"The man you went with…" Her voice didn't change, but something dark flickered under it. "Don't pretend you're the one holding the leash."
He froze.
She didn't wait for a reaction. She headed for the door, heels silent on polished marble.
Just before she exited, she added without turning, "Next time you walk into someone else's den—tell me. Or I'll burn it down before you get touched."
Then she was gone.
Raven sat there long after the door shut, pulse unsteady—not from fear, but because Ice never warned him unless the threat was real.
And if she was worried…
It meant whoever he had tangled with wasn't just dangerous.
They were known.