Chapter 5

Lucas paused, a sinister smile creeping onto the corner of his lips.

"I want you to represent the Costa family and marry into Isabella's household, sharing the Brown family's resources with us. Do this quietly, get it done, and I'll tell you everything about your biological parents — every last word."

"Fine." Mike was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice completely flat.

The fingers holding Lucas's cigar relaxed slightly, and the tension in his spine finally eased as he leaned back into the leather chair.

"Good. Looks like these five years actually taught you something." Lucas exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, hiding the wild excitement and murderous intent in his eyes. "In three days, I'll personally take you to Chicago for the banquet, as the head of the Costa family. The Brown family takes this marriage arrangement very seriously. Don't embarrass me — or the family."

Mike didn't spare him another glance. He turned and walked toward the door.

Four men in gray silently holstered their weapons and, like shadows, fell in behind Mike and disappeared into the rainy night.

Lucas was left alone in the study. He looked at the mess scattered across the floor, listening to the rain outside slowly dying down, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

"Go on then, dear brother," Lucas murmured to himself. "That crazy woman in Chicago will chew you up and spit out nothing but dust."

……

Three days later. Chicago.

A bitter wind blew in off Lake Michigan, sending dead leaves skittering across the ground.

A convoy of six black armored Cadillacs rolled slowly through the gates of the Brown Mansion on the outskirts of the city.

The estate was vast. The tall stone walls were laced with electric wire, with a concealed sniper position every fifty feet.

Compared to the lavish excess of the Costa family's New York compound, this place felt more like a heavily fortified military base.

The car door opened, and Lucas stepped out, wrapped in a thick cashmere coat. He straightened his tie and composed himself with the air of a man who held power.

Mike climbed out from the other side. He still wore that black trench coat, his eyes calmly sweeping the surrounding area for hidden sentries.

Just from what he'd observed on the drive in, he'd already pinpointed twelve concealed firing positions. The Brown family's reputation was well earned.

The welcoming party wasn't a butler — it was a squad of armed guards dressed in black.

"Mr. Costa, please follow me." The lead guard's face was expressionless. No pleasantries, no small talk. He simply turned and led the way.

Lucas's brow furrowed slightly. The lack of courtesy irritated him, but he held his tongue.

The Brown family ruled Chicago absolutely. Even the five major New York families thought twice before crossing them.

The two men followed the guards through the main building, bypassing the grand reception hall entirely, and were led to a sunken structure at the rear of the estate.

As the heavy iron door was pushed open, a sharp smell hit them — dirt, raw meat, and animal waste all rolled into one.

Lucas immediately covered his nose and mouth, his face twisting in disgust. "What is this place?"

Mike's eyes shifted, scanning through the dim corridor ahead. Beyond it lay a circular arena that looked like something out of ancient Rome — tiered stands rising high on all sides, and at the bottom, a massive iron cage enclosed by thick steel bars.

A woman sat on a leather sofa at the center of the stands.

She wore a fitted black turtleneck and dark riding pants, with a pair of custom knee-high boots. Her deep red hair was loosely pulled back, and her sharp features carried an unmistakable edge of aggression. Those gray-green eyes were like a hawk surveying its territory.

Isabella Brown.

The most dangerous rose in Chicago's underworld. One of the true powers behind the Brown family.

She was idly toying with a riding crop fitted with a silver skull, looking down at Lucas and Mike as they walked in.

"Ms. Brown." Lucas forced down his discomfort and plastered on his signature fake smile, striding forward. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm here on behalf of the Costa family, as invited. This is my brother, Mike. Regarding the marriage arrangement—"

"Shut up."

Isabella's voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that left no room for argument.

Lucas's smile froze instantly. A flash of anger crossed his eyes, but he swallowed it.

Isabella didn't even glance at Lucas. Her gaze cut straight past him like two blades and landed directly on Mike.

From the moment he'd stepped inside, she'd been studying him.

Steady stride. Controlled breathing. Not a trace of unease despite the unsettling surroundings.

"So you're the Mike Costa who came back from the dead?" Isabella rose from her seat, her boots striking the stone steps with a sharp, clean sound.

Mike didn't answer. He just looked at her.

Isabella stood at the edge of the stands, looking down at Mike from above, a cold smile on her lips.

"I've seen plenty of men from New York."

She let out a short, contemptuous laugh.

"Most of them are soft — guys in tailored suits who do their business over drinks."

She paused, her eyes settling on Mike.

"My father knows I'm strong-willed. He worries I'll never get married, so he arranged for a man to marry into our family. I don't have a problem with that."

Then her tone shifted.

"But he got one thing wrong."

Her eyes went cold.

"I'm open to it — but the man I marry has to be someone I choose myself."

She stepped forward, resting her fingers lightly on the railing.

"Not some pre-packaged nobody handed to me."

She looked at Mike, her smile edged with challenge.

"So I've prepared a little welcome gift for you."

Isabella raised her riding crop and snapped it through the air with a sharp crack.

A deep, thunderous rumble followed.

The heavy iron gate at the bottom of the arena began to grind upward.

A bone-chilling growl rose from somewhere deep in the dark passage, followed by a wave of thick, metallic-smelling air.

Lucas instinctively stepped back twice, his face draining of color.

A massive adult male African lion stepped out of the passage, moving with slow, deliberate weight.

Its muscles bulged like stone beneath its skin. Dried blood still clung to its golden mane. Its copper-bright eyes locked onto Mike through the bars of the cage with absolute focus.

This was a beast that had been starved for a very long time. It radiated pure, raw death.

Mike stood exactly where he was. His breathing didn't change.

Isabella watched Mike's face — completely unreadable — and the interest in her eyes only grew sharper.

She cracked the riding crop hard through the air and pointed at the roaring lion. Her voice rang through the open arena, dripping with madness and arrogance.

"You want to marry me? Fine."

"But any man who wants to conquer me has to conquer the lion first."