Brian shouted countdowns and instructions, moving the pads on his hands at intervals as Dillon circled him in the gym, his eyes trained on the targets.

Shift, pop, shift, pop.

Every thump of his gloves against the pads reverberated up his arms, into his mind, alongside her name.

Kat.

The night had passed slowly, his body undeterred by his attempt to wear it down. The shower he’d taken didn’t cool him off. The darkness never brought sleep. The ceiling had remained the same blank sheetrock at four as it had been at midnight when he climbed into bed. His ears had strained in the blackness for sounds of Owen, but the sound never came. Instead, there had been a ding from his phone with a message that Owen wouldn’t make it home, that he’d be staying at Kiki’s.

That had brought him no comfort either.

And so, he’d lain in bed, holding his rightness up against his mistakes, considering the how and the why of his feelings regarding the sisters who had done nothing and everything to upend Dillon’s life.

The first problem sister — Kiki — was too late to solve. Owen was in — all in. The pieces were already in play, including his heart. The look on Owen’s face when he’d walked in the door that morning said it all, and so Dillon had to let it go. It was going to happen with or without his permission, just like Owen had said. There was nothing to be done but back Owen up and be there for him if things fell apart.

The second problem sister — Kat — was unsolvable.

At some point in the small hours of the morning, when his frustration had ebbed, he’d found himself torn over his feelings for her, but one realization had risen to the surface, underscoring the war between them — he was the point of animosity, the fulcrum that had kept the situation teetering in and out of civility.

He’d been a dick to her, plain and simple, and she hadn’t stood for it.

That alone had set a fire in his belly. He’d discovered that he loved the challenge of her just as much as he hated it. She wouldn’t roll over; she’d buck up and bark back.

Never in his life had he met someone like her. She was fierce and strong, smart and sharp, but she’d cut him just as quickly as he could grab her. But, more than anything, he discovered that she was real, more real than any woman he’d ever known. She needed no one but herself and her sister.

He understood that more deeply than he could express.

The minute his mother had died, he’d been alone, besides Owen. The walls he’d built were just as much for his protection as they were to protect everyone else from him. And those walls were impenetrable to everyone but his brother.

In high school, when everyone else had been dating and partying, going to prom and worrying over the homecoming court, Dillon had been surviving beatings from his father — blood payment to keep Owen from enduring it in his place. When everyone had gone off to college, Dillon had been fighting in warehouses for money to pay for his apartment while Owen finished school. While people had been getting married and having kids, he’d become the king of an empire demanding solitude, working to pay for Owen’s college.

Dillon never had a chance at normal, but Owen would. Owen would have everything he wished for, and Dillon would do anything to provide the future he deserved.

The longer he fought, the more he disconnected from the world. He’d been surrounded by people and was still completely alone. With winning came cash and fame, and with cash and fame came women. But it was all empty, all in vain. They wanted to be in his corner at fights, on his arm at parties, in his bed at night. They didn’t want him, and he didn’t want them either.

None of them had found their way past the wall. None had even found their way to the wall to lay their hands on the cold stone and ask for entry. And he’d never shown them the path to get there.

Behind that wall was nothing but blood and bones, and passing the gates would lead you to the beast inside. And that beast was untamable, wild and hungry. That beast would destroy anything that got close enough to find out the truth.

Kat, Kat, Kat.

Somehow he found himself he wanted to show Kat the way. She was a force of nature, just as he was, and he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if his force met hers, what kind of noise they would make when they collided.

Maybe she had a beast of her own. Maybe she would lope through the gate and match him step for step, roar for roar. Maybe she was strong enough. If she wasn’t, he couldn’t guarantee her safety. And that was why he couldn’t let her in either even if she might be able to withstand him, even if she wanted to.

It doesn’t matter, he thought as Brian leaned into him to tolerate the battering of hiss aching hands. She wanted nothing to do with him, and he didn’t blame her. He’d insulted her, challenged her, hurt her on purpose for no reason other than he didn’t know any better.

He had never been good with words. He was good at anger, at fighting, at hands and blood and sweat; those came easily, a second nature of war and pain that separated him from everyone he’d ever known.

Brian halted him with a countdown and lowered his hands with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, his eyes heavy with concern. “You could use a break.”

Dillon nodded once.

He walked over to the stool in the corner of the ring and sat, pulled his gloves off, and poured water from his bottle over his face and hands. With hot hands and an aching chest, he combed through his soaked hair, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his palms.

The very core of who Dillon was had been molded by the fists of his father . The two were alike and nothing alike. Dillon had fought against that which they shared but never won. He’d taken the anger, the violence, and turned it into a job, given it a valuable purpose in his life, but there was no denying his nature. There was no stopping him from becoming his father. There was no stopping any woman he might find to love him from suffering the way his mother had. There was no stopping any children from that bond from finding themselves caught in the cycle he’d been in.

And he could never let that happen. Even if that meant he’d be alone for eternity.

* * *

It was the little things that Dillon always remembered about his mother — the blueness of her eyes, the sound of her humming softly as she’d stood at the sink, the lilt of her voice as she’d told him goodnight, her small hands pulling the covers up to his chin.

She’d only wanted to keep them safe. In the end, she couldn’t even protect herself.

One morning so many years ago, when he was ten and Owen five, the two of them sat at the table, eating Cap’n Crunch and exchanging pages of the funnies.

She stood at the sink, her powder-blue waitress uniform crisply pressed. A dishtowel was slung over her shoulder, the sun shining in through the window lighting her blond hair like a halo as she swayed, glancing over her shoulder with a smile at her sons.

Dillon was colored like summer, golden and sweet, with a strong nose like his father and blue eyes and fair hair like both of his parents. Owen had none of his traits. His hair was the color of chocolate with eyes that matched, his body long and lean, with a button of a nose.

The differences were recognized by all four, his father most of all.

The door to his parents’ bedroom slammed, and she dropped a dish in the sink with a clatter. The three of them stopped all movement, even down to their ribs, breaths held, the world frozen as if they were caught in amber.

Jimmy walked into the kitchen, blond hair jetting in every direction, thick stubble smattered on his heavy jaw. His dirty white tank top was half-stuffed in his rumpled pants from the night before, and the stench of sweat and whiskey hung around him like a fog.

They had moved to America for a better life, but things in Brooklyn were no easier than they had been in Ireland. And instead of meeting his lot head-on, he met it at the bottom of a bottle.

No one moved as he pulled out his chair, the scrape of the legs against the linoleum floor marring the heavy silence, and when he sat, he fixed his eyes on Dillon, who hadn’t realized he was staring.

“The feck are you lookin’ at, gobshite?”

Dillon dropped his eyes to the comics. “Nothin’.”

Jimmy turned his cold eyes on his wife. “Where’s me tea, Moira?” His voice was low, body tight as he leaned on the table.

Moira wiped her hands on her towel, avoiding his eyes. “I’ll pour you a cuppa.”

She opened the cupboard for a teacup and saucer, poured a cup from the kettle waiting on the stove, and walked across the kitchen to deliver it to him. Every move was deliberate. Every move screamed in its silence.

He looked down at his tea and back at her expectantly. “And me eggs and toast?”

She turned back to the sink, hanging her towel on a hook with trembling hands. “Jim, you’ve slept too late. I’m to go now. Me shift is startin’.”

Jimmy stood and stalked to her, stretching taller with every step, and the moment he was close enough, he grabbed her wrist and held it up, yanking her into his chest with hate in his eyes and venom on his lips.

“You’ll make me eggs before you go, whore, or your wee Owen and me may spend some quality time together when you’re gone.”

Her eyes darted from Owen back to Jimmy, her throat working as she swallowed. “I’ll be late. They’ll fire me.”

“Then you’d best get started, eh?” He flung her wrist back at her, and she held it to her chest, turning to the refrigerator to pull out the eggs with unsteady hands.

Tension pressed on Dillon with every second — the crack of the eggs, the sizzle of the pan, the fear of his brother, the anger of his father — as Jimmy glared at Owen from across the table, hatred rolling off him in waves.

The only way out was through the door. If they could get out before their mother, they could stay gone until she came home. Until they’d be safe again.

“Da, can me and Owen go outside?”

His eyes snapped to Dillon as he picked up his tea. “All the better. I won’t hear your racket if you’re out. Football’s on.”

Dillon nodded and glanced at Owen before slipping out of his chair and taking his brother by the hand. His mother held the screen door open, and he looked into her blue eyes brimming with sadness and fear as clear as the tears caught at the rims of her lids.

* * *

It hadn’t been long after that when she died. And then there had been nothing between them, nothing to stop Jimmy.

Nothing except for Dillon himself.

He stared at the dark spot on the gym floor between his feet, spreading with every drop of sweat that slipped from his nose.

There were so many reasons to stay away from Kat, too many. But he couldn’t help but wonder what if, even though he knew the answer. If he went after her, he could end up caring about her. And if he cared about her, if he let her in, he could lose it and hurt her. And if he ever hurt her, he’d never forgive himself.

Brian ducked into the ring and rested against the ropes. “Want to talk about it?”

Dillon sighed and leaned back, hanging his elbows on the ropes behind him. “Did Owen tell you about his new girl?”

“The bartender from the other night?He did. He told me about her sister too. Said you went full T. rex on her. Ate her face right off.” Brian mimicked pulling his face off for illustration.

Dillon would have laughed if he didn’t felt so shitty about it. “Twice.”

“And you’re upset about it because …”

“I might have been out of line.”

“Might have?” Brian arched an eyebrow.

“Okay, I was way out of line. I went there to apologize and ended up picking another fight instead. And then I challenged her to a drag race.”

“Owen told me that too.”

Dillon’s teeth clenched. “Well, why the fuck did you ask me if you already knew the whole story?”

“Because I like watching you squirm,” he said with a shrug. “Owen also told me she’s going to kick your ass.”

Dillon turned his head, not unhooking his arm from the ropes as he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “I’d deserve it.”

“Classic Dillon. Big mouth strikes again.” Brian crossed his ankles in front of him. “She’s hot, man. Too bad you blew it.”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen anything like her.”

Brian eyed him. “You like her.”

Dillon huffed. “I don’t know how I feel about her. Don’t be dramatic.”

“Don’t gaslight me. I know when you’re into somebody, and you’re into her.”

“And if I am? It’s not like it’d matter anyway. I can’t keep my shit together, and who knows if she’d be worth the trouble.”

Brian laughed. “Girls like that are always worth the trouble.”

But Dillon wasn’t buying it. “I’m not stable enough to be with anyone, and we both know it. One moment, one snap — that’s all it would take.”

Brian lifted his chin and looked down the bridge of his nose at Dillon. “Listen, have you ever snapped on a chick before? Like, actually snapped?”

“I’ve never stuck around long enough to give myself the chance.”

“Then can’t say you know if you’ve never tried.”

“I don’t want to risk it,” Dillon said with a shake of his head. “It’s too much weight to carry.”

Brian assessed him through a pause. “You’re not your dad. You know that, right?”

Dillon looked back at the dark spot on the floor between his feet.

Brian pushed himself off the ropes and knelt in front of Dillon. “You have more humanity in your little finger than your father had in his entire body. Who he was, what he did — that was his choice, and you are not him. You would never have choose his path. You would never do what he did.”

That much was true. He wouldn’t choose. But if he lost his self-control, if that anger took him over, he would have no choice.

Brian stood and hit him on the outside of his knee. “Now, come on. You’ve got a fight coming up, and I’m not going to have my reputation tarnished by you losing.”

Dillon chuckled and stood. “Your reputation, huh?”

“You heard me, strong man. Let’s go.”

Dillon pulled on his gloves, wanting to believe Brian was right, wishing he had control, wishing for a normal life and a normal brain and a normal past. But he could wish all he wanted. Things were what they were, and as long as his father’s blood pumped through his veins, he’d never be free.

Kat looked up from her book, eyeing her sister, who sat sideways in an armchair with her arms slung over the side, chatting with Owen and grinning like a teenager.

Kiki giggled. “Okay. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” She set her phone in her lap, fingers still resting on the case, like they wanted to be connected to him still, and sighed dreamily.

Kat snickered. “You’ve got it bad.”

Another sigh as she stretched out, her eyes big and twinkly and lovesick. “He’s just … it’s just …” Yet another sigh.

“Do you have some sort of leak? Should we get you checked out by a doctor?”

Kiki rolled her eyes. “You’re such a killjoy.”

“No one should be allowed to be that happy.”

But Kiki smiled. “I like him so much. It’s so weird; I barely know him, but I’ve never felt like this before.”

“You say that every time.”

“I mean it, Kat. Something is different with him.”

Kat flipped her book closed. “I’m not gonna lie — I didn’t think we’d see Owen again, so I was surprised to see him walk into the bar last night, but I should have known better. They always come back for you.”

Kiki bit her lip and looked down at her phone.

“I’m sorry,” Kat said with hot cheeks, both of them thinking about Eric. “I didn’t mean it that way. I actually kind of like Owen, mostly because he’s a complete one-eighty from the jerkburgers you usually bring home. They’re like lost puppy dogs. You can’t say no.”

“Well, consider my tune changed. I’m done with guys like that. Eric pushed me over the edge.”

“You and me both. I never understood why you couldn’t just pick a nice, safe guy.”

Kiki picked at her nails. “I don’t know either. There’s just something about a guy who would stand up for you, protect you. It’s hard to resist a guy who doesn’t give a fuck, a guy who reacts, who takes what he wants. It’s like a drug.”

“But you never recognized where to draw the line; that’s the hard part. Like Joey used to get in fights every time you went out. And Richard would hit on other girls when you went to buy him drinks. I don’t think he bought you a single one. Ever.”

“Ugh, you make me sound like such an asshole.”

Kat shook her head, her face softening. “You’re not an asshole. You just want to see the good in people where there is nothing but trouble.”

“I just thought they could change. I thought I could show them how to be better, if they would let me. I thought I could help them meet their potential.”

“You believed in them, which is noble. But you can’t change people. And you deserve the love you give to others. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Kiki nodded with a sigh — this time, sad — so Kat let it go there.

“Well, I’m glad your affinity for alpha assholes has passed. Owen doesn’t seem like the fighting type or the type to con drinks out of you. He’s more the bookish, sensitive type. I rate him at about a three on the bad-boy scale.”

Kiki’s brows inched up. “Am I hearing this right? Do you actually approve of someone I like?”

“He seems sweet,” Kat said with a shrug, “and I think it’s fair to say that whatever this is,” she motioned to her sister, “it’s more than a passing phase. I didn’t expect to see him here this morning. But he made pancakes, so I couldn’t be mad. That was probably his plan all along, wasn’t it?”

“Probably, but it was an honest plan.” She blushed, smiling. “He’s … God, Kat. He’s just so great and kind and strong and …” She sighed again, and Kat laughed.

“You’re a mess.”

“I know,” she said, shaking her head like she didn’t believe it.

“You deserve to be this happy, Kiki.”

She frowned, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “I thought you said I wasn’t ready.”

Kat glanced down at her book, flipping it over without purpose. “Maybe it’s me who wasn’t ready.”

“I can’t even believe I’m hearing this. What’s with the sudden self-awareness?”

Kat rolled one shoulder in a shrug. “Hanging out with you last night, listening to you two talk, hearing you laugh … I dunno. I get it. Plus, I feel bad for being bitchy to Owen at the bar.”

“Well, Dillon pushed you pretty far, and when you get mad, you don’t usually take it out on the right person. I didn’t take it personally, and I’m sure Owen didn’t either.”

“Whatever,” Kat said, pretending like it didn’t matter. “Dillon was just acting like every other fucker on the track.”

Kiki rolled her eyes. “Like having a dick makes them a better driver.”

“I’m happy to prove them wrong, just like I’ll prove Dillon wrong.”

“I can’t believe he called you out like that. This is your job, not a joke or a hobby. He’s not going to beat you, and he’s stupid for thinking he can.”

“I told him he didn’t know who he was fucking with, but he’s not really the type to listen.”

“How could he? He’s too busy barking.”

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face.” Kat tried to picture him throwing a fit, but all she could see were his bright eyes, the strong line of his nose, his wide lips, the hard edge of his jaw. The image blazed in her mind, and she kicked dirt over it to put the fire out.

It was desire she felt, and she cursed herself at the realization.

It had been a long time since she met anyone she wanted like that — in that way that felt automatic, undeniable. In Vegas, she’d run with the same guys for so long, and the ones she’d liked were tried on and discarded. She’d always been drawn to men with skill, men with confidence, but she’d found time and time again that her own skill and confidence threatened them. She was too hard, too jaded, too much, and before long, it would end and she’d be alone again.

Loneliness suited her, she’d found. And so she’d all but given up on the prospect of more. She’d given up her expectations, finding men who had no expectations of her — usually out-of-towners in Vegas to party, gone as quickly as they’d appeared. She hadn’t invested in them, they hadn’t invested in her, and everyone had ended up happy, whatever that meant.

The saddest part was, she didn’t know if the type of man she was looking for even existed. All she wanted was mutual respect. She wanted an equal, someone who could match her blow for blow, kiss for kiss, laugh for laugh.

She wanted a man who would love her as fiercely as her father loved her mother.

Kat reached for her necklace, fiddling with the solitary pearl to slide it up and down the chain, comforted by the quiet zipping it made, and she thought of her father.

He was the only man in her life who truly respected her.

She’d called him the day after they left Vegas, rightly assuming he wouldn’t buy her excuse as to why they were on their way to New York. He had known it was bullshit, but he hadn’t asked any questions, much to her relief, though she knew he’d been digging since then. She also knew it would be almost impossible to find a thread to unravel. Four people in the world knew the truth, and none of them were talking.

The hardest part of the whole ordeal was keeping the secret from him. The lesson he’d taught her above all was that family was everything. It was why they’d left, the reason for the cloak-and-dagger and the sacrifice.

Tanaka Katsu loved both his daughters, but with Kat, the eldest, the bond was deeper, stronger. She was his likeness, their seriousness and capability so much of who they were that they stepped into their roles of protector easily, simply, as if there were no other choice. Katsu was yakuza, trained to kill and lead and plan and procure. Kat was as fearless and confident as him, but without the structure of an organization to use those skills, she was left with a single purpose — protect her family. And she had.

They had been at risk so far away from him in Vegas, but that distance had been safer than having them nearby. Their lives were too complicated, twisted with commitments and duty and love. And as much as he loved them and wanted them close, it wasn’t safe. Yuki saw to that.

But for once in her life, she had her father close by. Now that only a few miles separated them, she saw him often, and that alone almost made the trouble worthwhile.

Family was everything, and hers had been split apart. But that fact had never stopped them from loving each other so deeply that nothing could stand in their way, not distance or time.

* * *

“Will Papa bring us presents?” Four-year-old Kiki looked up at Kat with eyes so big.

The sisters sat in the window seat on their knees like they’d been for the last half hour, looking through the glass at the empty street, listening for his thundering car.

Kat smiled at her little sister and adjusted the bow in her hair. “He usually does.”

“I miss him,” she said, turning to look at the driveway.

“Me too, but we won’t have to wait much longer. He’ll be here soon.”

The sisters pressed their hands against the window and looked up the street as their mother flitted around them with a dancer’s grace, undeterred by her heels. She fluffed the pillows on the couch again and picked up pictures and moved them arbitrarily before finally taking a seat next to the girls, fingers threaded in her lap, glancing out the window with as much hope as her daughters.

“Grace has strict instructions to make sure you eat too much candy and stay up far past bedtime.” Kim smiled, holding Kiki’s cheek as she pouted. “I’m sorry we’re going out tonight, baby. But we’re going to spend the rest of the weekend together. I promise.”

They heard the rumble of his engine before they saw him. The sleek black ’69 Charger rolled up the street before pulling into the driveway.

Kiki squealed and hopped off the seat, and Kat was right behind her. Kim stood, straightening her tight black cocktail dress, smoothing a hand over her hair as she walked to the door and opened it.

The girls bolted, barreling down the walkway to meet him.

He stepped out of the car, tall in a gray suit, his jet-black hair combed neatly back. On his long, narrow nose sat black sunglasses, and when he smiled, it was bright and full of joy and relief, lighting up his handsome face. He was powerful — anyone could see the gravitas and authority in the straightness of his back, the sureness of every step — but with his children, with Kim, the hard shell of duty fell away, leaving a softness reserved just for them.

Katsu set his leather bag down and knelt in front of the car, spreading his arms.

“Ah musume. Koko ni kuru. Come here, my beautiful girls.”

“Papa!” Kiki squealed.

They ran to him, and he wrapped them in his arms, peppering their cheeks with kisses.

“I have missed you. Where is your mama?”

“Right there!” Kiki cupped her father’s chin and pointed it to Kim.

She waited behind them, tall and slender, her hair falling over her shoulders and green eyes glistening.

He stood slowly, his eyes locked on hers, looking her over for a long moment before closing the space between them to hold her face in his hands.

“I have missed you most of all.”

Her cheeks flushed as she leaned into his hand, gazing up at him like he was the center of the universe.

He bent to kiss her smiling lips, and Kiki giggled. Kat nudged her, though her lips pursed to stop herself from smiling too.

Katsu turned to the girls. “Come, musume. I will show you what I’ve brought.”

Kiki squealed again and ran to him, slipping her tiny hand into his as he picked up his bag, beaming at Kim.

He turned back to Kat. “Come, Katsumi. I have something very special for you.”

And when he smiled again, it was the smile he gave only to her. She answered it with her own and started after him.

Once inside, the girls sat on the floor of the living room, all eyes on Katsu as he sat on the couch. He opened his bag and reached inside, his hands reappearing with a porcelain doll. Her hair was black and shiny, pin straight down her back, and her eyes were a vivid shade of green. They reminded Kat of soft spring grass, warmed by the sun, so bright against her creamy skin and midnight hair and the blood red brocade kimono.

“Keiko,” he said, leaning toward her where she sat at his feet as if he were telling her a great secret, “this doll sat in the window of a shop, and she called my name. Do you see her eyes? She is a jade child, like you.” Kiki’s eyes were wide, her face rapt as Katsu handed her the fragile doll. “She is delicate, my Keiko. Take care not to break her.”

“I won’t, Papa. I promise,” she said, cradling the doll against her chest.

Katsu’s face was soft, and he cupped the back of Kiki’s head, pressing a kiss to her forehead. When he turned back to his bag, he reached inside to retrieve a small velvet box, which he handed to Kat.

She took the soft box, running her hand over the lid before hooking her fingers in the crease, opening it with a creak. Cream satin lined the inside of the box, and on the padded side lay a fine gold necklace with a small pearl pendant.

Kat touched the shiny pearl and looked up at her father. “Thank you, Papa,” was all she could manage.

“Would you like to wear it?” he asked.

She nodded. It was the most lovely thing she’d ever been given.

He slid off the couch to sit next to her on the floor and took the dainty necklace from the box. She gathered her hair out of the way as he laid it on her neck and fastened it before sitting back to admire her.

“Kireii musume. You are beautiful, my Katsumi. Did you know that pearls have their own power?”

Kat shook her head, her fingers on the pearl.

“It is said that wearing a pearl will protect you from evil and bring you luck. And I wish both things for you very much.”

She beamed up at him and then at her mother, who sat behind Kiki playing with her hair, and she was struck by the rightness of it all. If only they could be together always.

Katsu turned back to his bag. “And for my Kim …” He pulled another velvet box out of the bag, and Kim’s breath hitched, her fingers touching her lips.

“But Katsu, why—”

“After all these years, you still ask?” He laid the box in her hands.

She held the big, flat box for a moment, her chest rising slowly as she took a deep breath and opened it. Kiki leaned in to look and her mouth dropped open when she looked inside.

Kim’s eyes shot up to Katsu’s in disbelief.

“May I?” he asked with a smile, extending his hand.

She gave him the box, and it was Kat’s turn to drop her jaw when he took out a necklace strung with diamonds with a large diamond pendant in the center. He tenderly placed it on Kim’s slender neck, the pendant resting just in the hollow of her collarbone.

He pressed a reverent kiss to her neck.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” she whispered, trailing her fingers across the twinkling diamonds.

His eyes found hers, his voice soft. “It has been too long this time.”

“Every visit is too long between and too short within,” she whispered back.

They sat in silence, lost in each other for a long moment, and the girls were still, caught up, frozen.

The doorbell rang, and they all jumped.

Kiki was across the room in a split second, chanting, “Grace, Grace, Graaaaace!”

Kim glided to the door, opening it to reveal their nanny with a soft smile on her face and her gray hair twisted into a bun. Kiki threw her arms around Grace’s waist.

“Ooph! Hello, Kiki.” She patted Kiki on the back and leaned in to kiss Kim on the cheek. “Hello, Kimberly, dear.”

Grace walked into the room and set down her things, her eyes twinkling as she smoothed out her shirtdress. Katsu stood, offering a small bow with a smile on his face, and Grace waved a hand at him.

“Oh, you. So polite.” Grace patted Kat on the head.

“Let me go grab my things,” Kim said, glowing and floating through the house like an angel.

“Papa, can’t you stay?” Kiki pouted.

Grace winked at Katsu as she headed into the kitchen, and Katsu bent down to the girls.

“Mama and I are going out, but tomorrow, there will be ice cream and a movie for all of us. What do you think?”

Kiki lit up, her sadness all but forgotten. “Can I have a banana split?”

He brushed her cheek. “Anything you wish.”

Kim came into the room with a weekend bag just as Grace entered from the kitchen, tying an apron around her back.

“Grace, could you have the girls ready for breakfast around ten? We’ll be back to pick them up.”

“Sure,” she said, pulling Kat into her side for a hug. “They’ll be here with bells on.”

Kim turned to the girls, kneeling down to hug them one by one. “Be good, okay?”

“We will, Mama,” Kat answered.

She kissed both girls and stood, and Katsu took her place, cupping the girls’ faces one at a time. Green eyes looked into brown, reflecting love and hope like mirrors. And then he stood and walked to Kim, taking a last long look at his daughters before closing the door.

Kiki and Kat ran to the window seat, giggling as he opened the door for their mother, pausing to kiss her sweetly before she slid into the sports car. And Kat watched her father until he was in the car and she could no longer see his face, and when she touched her pearl, she smiled.

Someday, she’d find a man who looked at her the way her father looked at her mother. Someday, she’d have little girls of her own, and someday, they’d all be together and as happy as she was right then.

* * *

“You okay, Kat? You have a weird look on your face.”

“I’m fine.” Kat gave her sister a smile she hoped was reassuring as she tried to put her memories back in their box, deflecting the question with one of her own. “What are you doing tonight?”

Kiki’s cheeks flushed. “Going on a date with Owen.”

Worry shot through Kat right alongside surprise. Of course they would want to go out. And somehow, Kat was completely unprepared.

“What’s the matter?” Kiki asked warily.

“This makes me nervous.”

At that, Kiki full-on frowned. “Why?”

“Because, when I’m with you, I know you’re safe. Owen complicates that.” She paused, thinking. “We need ground rules.”

Kiki swung her legs around to set her feet on the ground, putting on a mock -erious face. “Okay, Mom. Shoot.”

Kat rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. Can you just humor me?”

“Okay, okay.” She leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs and clasping her hands. “Well, you and I will keep working the same shifts at the bar, so that covers a lot of it. If he stays over here rather than me going there, would that help?”

Kat considered. “That would definitely make me feel better.”

“And how about if we go anywhere, we can really pretend you’re Mom and I’ll let you know exactly where I’ll be and when I’ll be home?”

“That would also make me feel better.”

Kiki watched her with hopeful eyes. “So you’re really okay with this?”

“I’m okay with it,” Kat answered and meant it. “Just keep his brother away, all right?”

“I know, right?” Kiki laughed, pulling her knees in as she sat back in the chair.

“I’ll make nice with him for the sake of you and Owen though, when I have to. I can sidestep his snark, and if he quits being a shit, maybe we can get along. Beating him tomorrow should shut him up for a minute.”

“You’re welcome for setting the whole thing up for you, by the way,” Kiki said.

“Well, I wasn’t going to call him to work it out.”

“I don’t blame you.” She laughed, the color high in her cheeks as she beamed at Kat. “You’re the best sister ever. You know that?”

“I do. You’re lucky to have me.”

Kiki shook her head as Kat’s phone rang in her lap, a photo of her mom and dad lighting up her screen.

“Hi, Mom,” she answered.

“Hey, baby. How are you?”

Kat stood and stretched. “Pretty good. How are you?” She wandered down the stairs and to the sliding door that led to the small patio.

“Oh, you know. Hanging in there. Things are quiet around here without you.”

“Quiet? In Vegas?” Kat sat in one of the chairs and propped her feet on the railing.

Kim laughed. “More quiet than you’d think. How are you girls doing? Still liking New York?”

“It’s definitely different,” Kat answered, not wanting to admit just how much she loved the city. “We’re doing all right. Kiki met a guy.”

“Oh God. Kat—”

Kat cut her off at the fear in her voice, “It’s okay, Mom. Owen seems to be a really good guy. I’ve just given her my approval.”

“Wow. Well, that’s a relief, I suppose.” She didn’t sound convinced.

“We’ve set up some rules so I can keep track of her in case of Eric. She’s agreed; in fact, it was her idea. Hopefully that means she’ll take them seriously.”

“Honey, there’s only so much you can do. She loves you, and she’ll do what you ask. But trying to hold her back will probably only come around to bite you.”

“I’ve just realized that. She’s really into him. I think you’d like him.”

“Once all of this dies down, maybe you can come visit me.”

Kat didn’t miss the sadness in her voice. “Have you thought about coming out for a while?”

“Your father is coming in a few weeks, but maybe after that. I’ve been so busy at work. Hopefully things slow down soon. I’ve got some of my girls taking on more responsibility at the dance studio, and I’ll have a lot more free time once they’re trained. But enough about boring, old me. What’s new with you?”

“Besides Kiki’s love life, not much. I raced the other night, which was probably a mistake. But it felt so good.”

“Think anyone knew who you were?”

“Nope, I don’t. I have another race tomorrow night, but it’s just to shut someone up. Owen’s brother, in fact.”

“Owen, as in Kiki’s someone?”

“The very one.” Kat turned sideways in the chair and tucked her legs in. “It’s just for respect though, no money, no bookies. So it doesn’t really count as a race, right?”

“I don’t know, Kat. Does it?”

She sighed. “I guess so. It’ll feel good to drive and to put him in his place — he called me out. New city means a whole new class of pricks to school.”

“Baby, you know you’re good. Just have faith in yourself. When you believe in yourself, they can’t touch you. When you let them get to you, they win even if you win.”

“Have you met me? Backing down isn’t something that comes naturally.”

“I know, but you’ve learned so much patience. I’m proud of you, Kat. You’ve come so far. Just keep believing in yourself.”

“You sound like a motivational poster,” she teased, but she already felt lighter. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too. I miss you lots.”

“Miss you too.” Kat picked at her jeans.

Kim sighed. “Well, I’ve got to run. Tell Kiki to call me later. I want to hear about this new someone.”

“I will.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up, and Kat stared at the hedge against the fence, her gaze lost in the shadows between the leaves.

As a little girl, she’d thought she’d find someone to look at her the way her father looked at her mother. Instead, she’d been looked down on with hard eyes and lusted after like a toy, but never once had she felt the love, the undeniable, irrefutable love that she saw between her parents.

Maybe it didn’t exist. Maybe they were magic, an anomaly. Maybe it was the distance that made them love so deeply.

Or maybe it was just that Kat wasn’t made for love, not like her mom, not like Kiki. Maybe she was just too hard, too cold to let anyone in. And all she could ever do about it was dream.

The tile under Ares’s palm was cool despite the steam of the shower, never warming, even under his touch. Water streamed down his back, almost hot enough to burn.

He closed his eyes and found her face in the darkness.

Ares hadn’t seen Dita since he left the day before after hours wrapped up in her, reminded of all the reasons he wanted her, he needed her. And he hadn’t pressed her for more, hadn’t gone back, giving her a little space rather than taking what he wanted, which was more.

It was always more.

But waiting was not something he was accustomed to. A little restraint was a small price to pay — the more he stayed away, the more she would want him now that she’d had a taste. It was a dance they’d done so many times, he knew every step by heart and memory. He was even willing to lose, as much as he would hate it. But if he were going to lose, he’d lose with her naked and wrapped around him.

He found himself smiling as the water sluiced down the furrows and ridges of his back.

Dita giving Daphne to Apollo was the best thing that had happened to Ares in a thousand years. Adonis’s loss was Ares’s gain. She was his alone for the first time in too long.

The smile on his lips slipped away.

A caveat to Apollo’s reward was that he was indebted to Dita. And the closer the two grew, the more that relationship would put his secret in danger. His only comfort was in his oath with Apollo. Neither Apollo nor Ares could utter the truth about who had killed Adonis, and so Apollo would carry on taking the blame for Ares’s action. The bond was beyond their powers, and the truth had been hidden since Minotaurs guarded labyrinths and Olympus was atop a mountain of the same name.

Water pattered against his shoulders, and in his mind, he saw her — hair like spun gold, eyes blue and bright, her body and soul open and calling to him. She was all he’d ever wanted, and to love her set him free. But the power she had over him held him captive all the same. She belonged to him, but to take her, to keep her, she had to be claimed.

No god or man had ever claimed Aphrodite, though so many had tried. She took; she was never taken.

Not until Ares.

* * *

From the moment Ares had stirred with desire, Aphrodite was the only one he wanted. Of course, she’d seen him as nothing but an insolent child, even as he had grown into a man, and with every day, with every meeting, his determination would dig deeper with roots, searching for acknowledgement.

Until one day, he had seen the shift.

He stood in his chambers, admiring his new armor in his looking glass. The golden chest plate had been forged by Hephaestus, who had instilled it with magic and polished it until it shone — the sunlight beamed in from the windows, illuminating the surface.

Ares smiled at his reflection, squaring his shoulders before turning to leave, pausing at the table next to his door for his medallion. The familiar weight comforted him as he turned it over in his hand — two snakes knotted together, one white and one black, completing the circle with their tails in each other’s mouths. Ares considered it a token for good fortune, though Tyche, goddess of such matters, mocked him for it.

There was little in the world Ares hated more than being mocked.

He ran his thumb along the black snake’s body before tucking the medallion away in the pouch on his belt, striding through the halls of Olympus and into the dining hall. When he entered the wide room, his eyes found her, and hers found him. Neither looked away.

Her robes were the color of blood, her skin the color of milk, with eyes that burned behind long lashes, telling him without a word what she wanted. She could deny her feeling all she wished. The truth was written across her face, carried on her shallow breath across the room and into his heart.

Persephone, who sat at Aphrodite’s side, elbowed her as he approached.

Ares ignored them, sliding onto the bench across from them. He picked an apple out of the bowl of fruit on the table.

The goddesses’ eyes were amused as Aphrodite spoke. “May I help you, boy?”

Ares bristled. “I am no longer a boy and have not been for some time, a fact I would quite enjoy acquainting you with.”

Her voice was heavy with disdain. “Oh, I am quite sure you would.”

Persephone snickered, and Ares narrowed his eyes at her. Her brow rose in challenge, but he was undeterred. Persephone didn’t concern him, and neither did Hades. Not that Ares wished for a fight, but he wouldn’t think twice about ending the God of the Underworld’s reign, nor would he walk away from the opportunity.

He’d always wanted his own dominion.

Ares turned his gaze to Aphrodite, smoothing his face. “Walk with me. My temple in Athens is complete, its glory known throughout Greece. You should know its glory.”

She sighed, looking incredibly bored. “Ares, I do not wish to walk anywhere with you, least of all to an entire temple devoted to you. Have you anything else to bother me with? Because we were in the middle of a very important conversation before you interrupted.”

Ares stood, his eyes intent on her as he walked around the table, stopping at her side with power and boldness rising in his chest. Curiosity colored her face, and when he lowered his lips to her ear, she leaned away. But his hand wound around her slender arm, pulling her closer.

“You will be mine and of your own volition, Aphrodite. You will want me, and you will sigh my name to the stars when I take you. Trust in this.”

When he stood and their eyes met, she wore a new expression. The goddess was caught in a mixture of desire and annoyance, appalled at his audacity and at herself for wanting him. He could read her like a book, no matter how she fought to hide from him.

There was nowhere for her to hide.

Ares tossed the apple in the air and caught it, his eyes holding her still as he took a bite. And, with a tip of his head, he turned to stroll from the room, red cloak whipping behind him.

* * *

Steam curled up around Ares, and he smiled at the memory. She had always been his siren, the one he couldn’t resist. He would fight through Tartarus for her, turn his back on any god or man for her favor, cross any distance to reach her. They were destined, fated, and she knew it just as well as he.

No longer would she deny him.

Ares turned off the water and dried himself, pausing with his towel in hand, standing naked before his mirror. What he saw was a wall of bone and muscle, sinew and will, built for war, built to win. And he would. He would win all that he wished, starting with her, starting right now.

Dita’s thumbnail had been chewed down to the quick as she paced the clearing in Elysium, white robes billowing behind her like the tail of a comet.

Adonis hadn’t come. Again.

She turned to walk back in the direction she’d come. She shouldn’t have been surprised; it had been well over a week since they fought over her freeing Daphne. And it wasn’t that she couldn’t see his side; she could and understood. She just saw the side he didn’t — the side that knew Apollo’s suffering.

No, Adonis wouldn’t speak to her, but he would speak to Perry, the only mother he’d ever known. It had taken her days, but she’d finally convinced him to agree to meet with Dita. So here she was, trying again, seemingly to no avail, with her stomach twisted in knots.

The brush rustled, and Adonis stepped through, his face shadowed and sharp, his back straight and stiff. He stopped just inside the clearing and crossed his arms.

Days of thinking and wishing and waiting for him ended with a shock that zipped up her back at actually seeing him in the flesh. She stepped in his direction, reaching for him without thinking. But his scowl deepened, the muscles of his arms and shoulders tensing, and she withdrew her hand, twining her fingers behind her back, tripping over her thoughts.

She opened her mouth to speak and closed it again before finally settling on the one thought that was always present.

“I have missed you,” she said softly to the grass and the trees and his heart.

Softness touched his eyes, nowhere else. “I have missed you as well.”

“Every time I close my eyes, I am here.”

He hesitated. “I know.”

“Yet you will not come to me.”

“What is left to be said? What could you say that would change what you have done?”

Her heart ached, and with a breath, she stepped toward him, encouraged when he didn’t step back. “Nothing. Everything. Will you give me the chance?”

With cold eyes, he scanned her face for a moment before nodding.

The tightness in her shoulders unwound just enough for her to realize they had been tense in the first place. “Come. Sit with me.”

He followed her, taking a seat by her side under the shade of the tree, watching as she smoothed out her robes. She fought the urge to touch him, choosing instead to run a finger over the gold trim of the fabric to keep her hand occupied. His body was tight and the silence uncomfortable as she sorted through all she wanted to say. A list had existed in her mind, a list that had disappeared the moment she saw his face. And with nowhere to start, she decided to begin with the simplest statement, the heart of the truth.

“I am sorry.” The words were solemn, earnest, honest.

“That is not enough to right the wrong,” he clipped.

Heat rose in her cheeks. “I know. I understand—”

“You do not understand, Aphrodite. If you did, you would never have betrayed me.”

She hardened at his words, carefully choosing her own. “No, I suppose I do not,” she said evenly. “But I have hurt you, and I am sorry for that.”

“But you are not sorry for what you did. You wish for my forgiveness, but I cannot grant it.”

The argument was the same as it ever had been, the same as always. “Thousands of years have passed, though I know you can’t understand — time here passes so differently. She was trapped, helpless all that time, and he suffered so—”

The tendons in his neck tightened. “What care have I for his suffering? You betrayed me, betrayed us, for the one who stole my life, stole you from me—”

“No, he did not! You live on in Elysium. You have me still, though now you ignore me. And had you drunk the nectar as I’d asked—”

Adonis stood, his forearms and biceps rippling with his clenching fists, but his voice was as calm as the center of a storm. “We will never agree, and you should not have come.”

“How can we come to an agreement if you refuse to speak to me?”

He turned to leave, and her words caught in her throat.

He can’t leave, not like this.

“Please,” she pleaded. “I don’t want to live without you.”

His feet paused in their track, and when he turned it was with eyes sharp as blades and words hard as stone. “You should have considered that before you turned your back on me. And so, my goddess, this fate is your doing; your choice was made the moment you set her free.”

Her hands were numb as she stood, matching his anger with her hurt, with her rage at his presumption sparking her. “Do not lay blame on me when it is you who will not see reason.” She stepped toward him, fists at her sides. “No one tells me what I can and cannot do, not even you.”

Adonis squared his shoulders. “I never told you what to do, Aphrodite. I only hoped you would hold your love for me above all else.”

When he turned away once more, he never looked back.

Dita opened her eyes, back in her room as a frustrated tear slid down her cheek and onto her pillow.

Futility nestled into the hollow in her chest. He had thrown her love back at her as if it were a trifle, manipulating her by questioning her feelings, feelings he knew to be true. He had accused her of not seeing reason when he refused to even consider a side other than his own.

He wasn’t going to get over this, and neither was she. There was no argument to be made that hadn’t been made a hundred times. There was nothing she could offer and nothing he could say.

The impasse was a chasm too wide for their voices to carry across.

She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to cross it anymore.

The realization crept over her like a storm, blocking out the sun, crackling with lightning. Her life without him flashed through her mind, racking her with a shock of loneliness and fear. Life without her most familiar, her beloved. Her constant.

But what she feared most of all was the whisper of relief she felt.

Tears spilled from her eyes, and she pulled a pillow into her chest, pressing it against her heart.

The elevator dinged, and when Dita turned, she found Ares walking into her room, arrogant and smug until he scanned her face. And then his eyes were only full of concern, his brows heavy with questions, his body tight with desire to protect her.

She opened her arms, and he slipped into her bed, wrapping his arms around her as she buried her face in his neck, breathing in the crisp scent of his soap.

“What’s wrong?” he asked against her hair so gently.

Her breath hitched, and she shook her head.

Ares leaned back, searching her face, capturing her chin. And then he looked into her eyes with determination she knew he could deliver and made her a promise she hoped he could keep.

“I will make you forget him.”

And he sealed the vow with a kiss.