Chapter 3: Dontrell’s pov.

I woke up with a start, the coldness of the room hitting me before the alarm even had a chance to screech. My body always seemed to know when it was time, jerking awake moments before the loud, obnoxious beeping could ring in my ears. I grunted, reaching for my phone on the nightstand, and snoozed the alarm as soon as it started its irritating noise.

I rubbed my eyes with one hand and my feet together simultaneously to shake off the chill from the air conditioning. The sting of the cold was brief—better than the oppressive LA heat. I propped myself up, resting my back against the cushioned headboard.

Turning to my left, there she was—my wife, curled up like a cat, her wavy blonde hair scattered across her back, almost covering her entirely. She clung to the pillow like it was her last lifeline. But that didn't last long. Her face shifted, turning toward me. I couldn't help but notice her slightly parted soft lips and the slight flush of her skin from sleep. She was more beautiful than ever, and the weight of her presence settled heavily in my chest.

When my father told me he had chosen a bride for me, I was indifferent; I was even about to leave. But when I saw her locked away in that room, I knew I had to have her. Her father begged to make sure Clayton wouldn’t end up with her, as he was my dad's lackey and he would suffer her. My dad also knew better—this world works by strategy, not sentiment, and I was the best man to keep the marriage deal between our families going. From the moment I agreed to marry her, I hadn’t seen her until our wedding day. Not because I didn’t want to. It was because I hated how much I wanted for her.

Women threw themselves at me, yet here she was, as far away from me as possible at the edge of the bed, like my touch was poison. Everything about her made my body react, but I couldn’t show her that side of me. Not yet. For now, I would protect her, and in time, she would come to love me. But until then, I had to control myself. Last night was proof of how much restraint I had.

The alarm went off again. Ten minutes had passed without me realizing I’d been staring at her.

I reached for my phone, sliding it open. The screen lit up with missed calls and messages. Missed calls and messages flooded the screen—four from Elias, eight more from Andrew, and one from Clayton. Clayton calling just once—typical. He hated me. His emotions were always on display; his call was probably out of obligation rather than necessity or urgency. He never wanted me involved.

Andrew, though... I trusted him more than anyone. I clicked open his latest message:

“Our warehouse was hit; Elias was stabbed. The Regent betrayed us, but he’s dead now alongside the rest of his men. Dad’s furious. Clayton’s on a killing spree—he’s killed six of our men, accusing them of working with the Regent and other gangs. The Sovereign Circles meeting is tonight, and it’s going to get ugly. We need answers, and Clayton’s already drawing war on the Circle’s men.”

I stared at the message, the information hitting me like a punch to the gut. Someone had made a move against us, and if the regent was involved, there would definitely be a clash in the meeting. I could feel the weight of the coming storm, and it wasn't something I could ignore.

I threw the sheets off and sprang out of bed, waking Allison in the process. She stirred, but I barely noticed, my mind racing. I needed to leave. Fast.

I rushed into the bathroom to shower, mentally preparing for the worst. My guns were also stashed in the warehouse they hit. I didn’t know who I'd end up killing today, but it was clear that blood would spill.

When I stepped out, Allison was up, still groggy. "Good morning," she muttered, confused.

“Good morning,” she mumbled.

“Morning,” I replied curtly, heading to the closet.

My phone rang as I pulled on my pants. I zipped up and glanced at the mirror before hurrying back to my bedroom. Just as I reached the closet entrance, I saw Allison holding my phone. She was rushing to give it to me.

I took it from her without a word and answered the call.

"WTF, bro?" Andrew’s voice blared through the phone. "Did you sleep to death? Or has it been so long since you’ve seen a woman that you passed out right after?"

“I’m on my way,” I muttered, pulling on my socks. “for my flight to hit Beverly Hills, but I’ll make it in time for the Circle meeting. I need to talk to Dad.”

“You’re leaving her? She’s going to be pissed,” Andrew said, softening his tone slightly.

“Dave will stay with her. She’ll understand,” I replied, slipping my gun into the holster.

“Get ready when you arrive. The men in black won’t give up their information easily,” Andrew warned. "It’s gonna get bloody."

“I know,” I said, ending the call.

I stood at the closet doorway for a while, my chest tight, caught between leaving and staying. Allison’s silver-blue eyes were on me, demanding answers I didn’t know how to give. Part of me wanted to believe she didn’t care if I left, that she’d be relieved. But another part knew I couldn’t show her that I was thinking of anything but business.

“I’m leaving. Got work. A meeting I can’t miss.”

She scoffed, her voice sharp. “We just got married yesterday, and you’re leaving?” She blurted out furiously. “I expected better from you. I didn’t know some stupid meeting was more important than your wife,” she said, her anger obvious as she threw my wallet at me.

I was taken aback. I didn’t expect this reaction. I thought she’d be glad I was leaving, but clearly, I was wrong. I picked up the wallet and walked toward her. I didn’t touch her. I couldn’t figure out what she wanted, but seeing an opportunity, I decided to try and reach her.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I’ve got business to handle. This is how it is for me. Responsibilities come first.” She turned away, but I grabbed her gently around her belly with my left arm and pulled her back. She stood so close to my chest; her lingering perfume from yesterday filled my senses.

“This isn’t a fairy tale, Allison. You know what my job entails. I promise you, you’ll be fine, and I'll be back once I’ve handled everything.”

“What kind of marriage is this?” she asked, without turning to face me.

“The kind that matters,” I replied, my tone firm.

“And you expect me to just stay here? Doing what? Counting the days until you come back.”

“Yeah. You’ll be safe with my men here, and my maids are here to serve you.”

“I’m coming with you,” she said suddenly, pushing my hand away and walking hurriedly to grab her phone on the stool by the other side of the bed.

“Wait, what? You... you want to come with me?” I stammered, not sure I’d heard her correctly.

“Yes. If you’re going back home, I’m going with you.”

I sighed, still unsure if she was serious, but there was no backing down in her eyes.

“Fine, but you should at least change.”

“What do you take me for? A child?” She huffed. “I’ll change and bathe on the jet.”

Her determination stunned me, but I couldn’t argue. She was already moving toward the door, ready to go. With no choice, we left the room together, heading down to the foyer and the compound entrance, where a car was waiting. We got into the car, and soon we were on our way to the tarmac, where the jet awaited us, bound for Beverly Hills.