bigger threat rose from the shadows—an unknown syndicate targeting both their families. Shipments destroyed. Men disappearing. Power slipping.
For the first time in years, enemies had to sit at the same table.
Shayyna's father made the decision.
"You'll work with him," he said.
Her jaw tightened. "I'd rather fight him."
"You don't have that luxury anymore."
Meanwhile, Arayz was given the same order.
"Trust her," his uncle warned.
Arayz smirked coldly. "I trust bullets more."
But fate didn't care about their hatred.
They were now bound—whether they liked it or not.9