At the Blackthorn compound, Damien sat at the dining table with Sloane and the family lawyer.
They were having dinner while discussing the details of his inheritance.
His father's will was being read aloud.
A farm at the outskirts of London.
A cruise ship.
And... a marriage contract.
"A marriage contract?" Damien asked, confused. "What's that for?"
"Before your father died," the lawyer explained, "he made a contract with Mr. Victor Langford. Once you became the CEO of Blackthorn Enterprises, you were to marry his daughter."
"Marry his daughter?" Damien said furiously. "An arranged marriage? Who does that anymore?"
The lawyer smiled calmly.
"Your father was a smart man. Even if he made a few wrong decisions, this wasn't one of them. I think you should consider agreeing to it."
Sloane, with a sting of jealousy she couldn't hide, said coldly,
"He's old enough to know what's good for him. The choice is his to make. You can't force someone to marry over some stupid contract made years ago."
The lawyer shook his head.
"I was a good friend of your father's. Every decision he made concerning you and this company was to ensure your success.
This marriage isn't just about sentiment—it's about strengthening your position in London. Mr. Langford is one of the strongest men in the city. A union between your families would send a message: attacking the Blackthorns would mean going against the Langfords too. No one in their right mind would risk that."
His point hit hard.
"I'll give you time to think about it. I'll be back tomorrow for your answer. Please sign here to acknowledge receipt of the will."
---
Suddenly, a guard burst into the room.
"Sir, there's been an attack on one of our major shipments. It just arrived about three hours ago!"
"What?!" Sloane gasped, jumping to her feet.
"I believe it's Vanguard, sir," the guard added.
"It has to be," Sloane said grimly. "No one else would dare attack us."
"Who is Vanguard?" Damien asked.
"They're a rival laundering company," Sloane explained quickly.
"We have the bigger clients, but they've been growing. Seven years ago, they tried an attack—your father crushed them. They never tried again... until now.
Since your father's death, the Virelli twins have been gaining confidence. I think they see your leadership as a weakness to exploit."
"This attack," the lawyer added, "will shake your clients' faith. Investors may jump ship to Vanguard. Other rivals might see this as an opportunity too. If you don't handle this, you'll lose your respect—and your position."
Damien stood up.
"I'll meet with you tomorrow. I should have my decision by then," he said to the lawyer.
"Right now, I have something more important to handle. Sloane, with me."
---
Damien rushed into his room, opened his safe, and pulled out a handgun.
He had trained with his father at the shooting range since he was young—but he had never used a gun on a human before.
He grabbed extra magazines, cocked the gun, and tucked it into a concealed holster inside his jacket.
Sloane was already waiting outside his door, fully suited for battle.
"Sir, would you not wear a bulletproof vest?" she asked, concern tightening her voice.
"No," Damien replied simply.
He thought about scolding her for calling him 'sir'—they were the same age—but decided it was pointless for now.
He slid into the backseat of the lead car.
Sloane took the wheel.
A convoy of six vehicles tailed them, two more leading at the front.
As they neared the port, they could hear it—the sharp crack of gunfire in the air.
When they arrived, they saw their men pinned down by Vanguard's forces.
Sloane immediately child-locked the doors and stepped out, locking Damien inside to protect him.
Furious, Damien banged on the glass.
"I'm sorry, sir. I can't let anything happen to you," Sloane said, her voice muffled but clear enough.
Gunfire raged outside.
Damien watched helplessly as Sloane moved like a machine, taking down six opponents with cold precision.
"No wonder Dad trusted her," Damien muttered. "Smart. Strong. My kind of woman."
He spotted one of Vanguard's men creeping toward Sloane's blind side.
Damien pounded on the window, but Sloane couldn't hear him.
Gunshots masked his screams.
He noticed the car keys in the ignition—the child lock only worked inside.
He unlocked the doors, kicked them open, and stepped out.
Just in time.
He raised his gun and fired, splattering the attacker's brains across the dock.
Sloane spun around, shocked.
The person she was trying to protect—had just saved her life.
Suddenly, Damien dived, tackling her to the ground.
A bullet whizzed right where her head had been.
He rolled to his feet, turned, and shot the sniper cleanly through the forehead.
"That's twice now I saved your life," he told Sloane grimly.
"Don't ever pull that trick on me again."
Sloane, still in shock, could only nod.
She had thought Damien soft—but he had just headshotted two men like it was nothing.
Respect—and something deeper—flared inside her.
---
After a while, the gunfire died down.
Blackthorn's men had won the battle.
But at what cost?
"Millions of dollars' worth of goods destroyed," Sloane reported grimly to Damien.
"We have to make them pay."
"Oh, they will," Damien said darkly.
"Sir, we captured three of Vanguard's men," one of the enforcers reported.
"Kill them all," Damien said without hesitation.
Johnny, newly arrived, stepped forward.
"Better if we leave one alive to send a message," he suggested.
"Where have you been?" Sloane snapped at him.
"I was in Birmingham. The moment I heard about the attack, I started driving back," Johnny explained.
Damien waved him off.
"Kill them all. That's enough of a message".
Three gunshots echoed across the port.
The prisoners were executed on the spot.
---
"Johnny, take care of the cleanup," Sloane ordered.
"Aye aye, ma'am," Johnny replied with a grin.
Sloane and Damien climbed back into the car, driving off into the night.
The war had begun.
And it wasn't going to end clean.
—