The morning after their victory was nothing like Hazel expected.
She woke in a tangle of sheets and Michael's warmth beside her, sunlight creeping through the curtains of the penthouse. For a moment, it felt like peace — the city silent, her heartbeat steady, and Michael's arm lazily draped across her waist.
Hazel smiled, a rare, genuine thing.
But peace never lasted long in their world.
The shrill ring of Michael's private phone shattered the quiet.
He groaned against her neck. "Ignore it."
Hazel smirked. "Not happening, Graze." She wriggled out of his grasp, grabbing the phone from the nightstand. The screen flashed with a single name she didn't recognize: Alec.
Before she could say a word, the call ended — replaced by a message.
"We're not done, Michael. You owe me blood."
Hazel frowned. "Hey… who's Alec?"
Michael tensed. His entire body stiffened, the warmth in his expression vanishing in an instant. He sat up, running a hand through his hair, gaze dark and stormy.
"Where did you see that?"
She held out the phone. "Right here. Who is he?"
For the first time since she met him, Michael hesitated. And it wasn't the hesitation of someone caught in a lie — it was the kind that came from old wounds. From buried memories.
"He's dead," Michael said quietly.
Hazel raised a brow. "Michael…"
He sighed, leaning back against the headboard, eyes fixed on some distant ghost only he could see.
"Alec Knight," he said after a moment. "My best friend. My brother in every way but blood. We built our first empire together. He's the reason I became… this."
Hazel swallowed. She'd never seen him like this — stripped of his arrogance, his perfect control.
"What happened?"
Michael's jaw tightened. "Betrayal. He wanted more than the empire we shared. Took out half our men trying to claim it for himself. I put a bullet in him on the docks eight years ago."
Hazel's heart pounded. "But if he's dead—"
"I buried him myself."
The room hung heavy with silence.
And then, Hazel's phone buzzed.
An unknown number. A message.
"Did you really think killing me would end this, Graze? I'm coming for what's mine. And I'll start with your queen."
Hazel's stomach dropped. She met Michael's eyes.
"Looks like your ghost's back, babe."
Michael was already moving — grabbing his discarded clothes, barking orders into his earpiece, calling for security sweeps of the building.
"No one leaves this tower," he ordered. "Not until I say so."
Hazel slid out of bed, grabbing one of Michael's shirts, buttoning it hastily as she watched him turn back into the ruthless, perfect leader the city feared.
But his eyes when they met hers weren't cold.
They were terrified.
"Hazel," he said, voice low and hoarse. "I don't care what it takes. I won't let him touch you."
She stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest. "Then you better stick by me, Graze. Because I'm not hiding."
A muscle in his jaw jumped. "This isn't your fight."
She smiled — that dangerous, fearless grin he secretly loved. "Michael, everything about you is my fight."
He groaned, pulling her roughly against him, kissing her hard, possessive. The kind of kiss that said mine, the kind that promised blood.
Hazel pulled back, breathless. "Now, tell me where to find this bastard."
**
Two hours later, the penthouse's war room was alive with tension. Maps. Screens. Michael's top men on edge.
Hazel stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the city below as Michael barked orders.
"Where the hell was that message traced to?"
A young tech stumbled forward. "Old docks, southside, sir."
Michael's expression darkened. "Of course."
Hazel glanced over. "What's at the old docks?"
Michael didn't answer right away.
Then, "It's where we buried him."
The room fell silent.
And Hazel realized this wasn't over. The victory they'd claimed last night was temporary. The past had teeth — and it was coming for them.
**
That night, Michael didn't sleep.
Hazel found him on the balcony, a glass of whiskey in hand, staring out at the lights like he could see ghosts walking the streets.
"Talk to me," she said softly, stepping beside him.
He glanced over, his expression softer now in the dark. "I thought I killed him, Hazel. I swear to God, I did."
She touched his arm. "Then it's time to finish it."
A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. "Reckless woman."
"Arrogant man."
He chuckled, then caught her by the waist, pulling her close. "You sure you want to be tied to a man with a past like mine?"
Hazel kissed him, slow and deep. "It's my past now too."
And then, against the cold night air, Michael pressed her against the balcony wall, claiming her lips again.
"I don't deserve you," he murmured against her skin.
"Too late," she teased breathlessly. "You're stuck with me, Graze."
The city watched, unaware that its king and queen were about to face the storm of a lifetime.
And in the shadows, a ghost named Alec smiled.
"I'm coming, old friend."....