Chapter 4 – A Kind Offer

Liam

“I understand, Your Honor, but I’m required to have this information.”

My hand tightens around the phone, knuckles whitening. Anger creeps in like a slow burn I can’t shake. “What do you mean she’s a high-profile case? She has no priors. She’s not a celebrity.”

A pause. Static hums on the line.

“Uh-huh. Well, what can you tell me?”

The voice on the other end offers a string of vague half-truths, then quiets. I can hear the discomfort—judges don’t stammer unless they’re scared of someone.

“Thank you for your time, Judge.”

I hang up and drag both hands through my hair, trying to chase away the frustration clawing at the back of my skull.

All they could tell me was that she—Amara Black—claimed assault. So did the male in question. That she burned his arm—lit him on fire, they said. That she had no priors. And somehow, that qualifies as high-profile.

Who the hell is this girl?

I grab my cell and press a familiar contact. The line clicks, and Ricky’s voice bursts through, casual as always.

“Hey, boss man.”

“I need you to do something for me.”

“What’s up, boss?”

“I need you to find out everything you can about an inmate named Amara Black. I want a file—background, history, anyone she’s tied to. Bring it to me directly.”

“Sure thing, boss. We still making the drop tonight?”

“Yes. Shipment proceeds on schedule. See you soon.”

I hang up.

Even the judge sounded afraid to speak her name. Who the hell was she involved with? I know every man with real power in this city. Hell, most of them work for me.

Only two don’t: Hector Gonzalez and Killain Graves.

If she’s connected to either of them, things just got complicated.

I lean back in my chair, staring out the office window. This city bends at my will. I built it brick by brick, block by block, bought every soul that could be bought and buried the ones that couldn’t. I own more than half of it—ten prisons scattered across state lines. This one? This is home base. Close to the mansion. Close to control.

When my predecessor died, the streets fell into chaos. I filled the vacuum without hesitation. It was easy—every empire needs a ruler, and I wear the crown well. Nothing moves here without me knowing.

So why can’t I find a simple file?

My pencil taps against the desk in a steady rhythm. She burned him. A small smile tugs at my lips. I can see it—her defiant glare, the fire dancing in her hands. A little pyro. Feisty. Dangerous. Perfect.

The thought of someone hurting her twists something inside me. Rage simmers low in my gut. I barely know her, and already, I can’t stomach the idea of another man laying hands on her.

She’s mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I chuckle softly, pushing back from the desk. Time to satisfy my curiosity.

The walk to her cell is quiet, the halls echoing with the faint sounds of inmates at work—brooms sweeping, chains clinking, whispers dying mid-breath as I pass. They all know their place here. This is my domain, and I demand respect.

By the time I reach her cell, I’ve already composed the mask—half authority, half charm.

She doesn’t notice me at first. She’s lying on her stomach, legs bent, reading a letter with intense focus. There’s a softness in her expression I haven’t seen before—unguarded, almost peaceful.

Interesting.

No wonder she got into trouble. She’s so focused she doesn’t even notice danger when it’s standing right behind her.

Finally, she turns—and freezes.

Her face flushes pink, her eyes widen. She scrambles to her feet.

That reaction stirs something in me. Nervous. Respectful. Good.

I step closer, letting her scent drift between us—something faint and clean, with a trace of sweetness underneath. She’s perfect. Small but strong. Fragile but unbroken.

And she’ll look even better on her knees.

“Hello, sir…” she says softly.

I chuckle. Sir. Wrong title—but she’s learning.

“Hello, Amara. What do you have there?”

She glances down at the paper in her hand. The letter trembles. “Oh, this? Um… it’s just a letter from a friend.”

A lie. Her voice gives it away. Her eyes, too—too wide, too wary.

I tilt my head, studying her. “Must be a pretty important friend, for you to hold it so tight.”

“Well… letters are the only form of communication with the world I have,” she says, dry and flat.

“That’s true,” I reply, letting a smirk play at my lips. “I suppose I could let you make a phone call from my office, if you’re so interested in the world you left behind.”

Her head snaps up, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Why… why would you allow that?”

“I’m in a generous mood today,” I say smoothly, taking a slow step closer. “Those don’t happen often. So what will it be, Kitten?”

Her breath catches. The word lands exactly where I want it to—between curiosity and confusion, wrapped in heat.

She hesitates only a second before nodding. “I would very much like that, sir.”

“Good. Then it’s settled. Come with me.”

She follows as I lead her through the corridor, up the stairs to my office. The other guards glance over but stay silent. They know better than to question me.

The hinges groan as I open the door. I motion toward the chair across from my desk. She obeys, sitting carefully, her eyes darting around the room like a wary animal in a new cage.

Good girl. Already listening.

I sit behind the desk and push the phone toward her, its cord coiled like a waiting snake. She stares at it, lips parted, hands still.

“Go ahead,” I say. “Make your call.”

Her eyes flick to mine. “What do I have to do in return?”

A laugh rumbles from my chest. “Nothing, Kitten. This one’s free.”

She still doesn’t move.

I watch her wrestle with the decision, then finally—hesitantly—she reaches forward. Her fingers curl around the receiver. She lifts it, pressing it to her ear.

I lean back in my chair, a slow smile spreading across my face, and watch her dial.