Z A D E

The world is divided into two kinds of people—those who kneel and those who make them.

I’ve never been on my knees.

I was born into violence, raised by it, shaped by the blood and bones of men who thought they could control me. Now, I stand above them all. The name Zade Meadows is spoken in hushed whispers, laced with fear and respect. In this world, power isn’t inherited—it’s taken. And I’ve taken more than my share.

The city belongs to me.

I rule from the shadows, where law and morality have no place. Drugs, arms, information—there’s nothing I can’t buy, sell, or destroy. My empire stretches beyond borders, beyond governments, slipping into the cracks of society like poison.

There’s no line I won’t cross. No sin I won’t commit.

Because in the end, only one thing matters—power. And power comes from knowing everything.

Which is why I know about her.

Adeline Reilly.

A name that shouldn't have meant anything to me. A woman who should have been nothing more than another face in the crowd. But from the moment I saw her, she became something else.

A fascination. An obsession. A weakness I refuse to name.

She writes about men like me, spins fantasies about monsters in the dark. But she doesn’t understand what it means to be truly hunted.

She will.

She leaves traces of herself everywhere—unguarded, exposed. Her windows left open, her routine predictable. She walks alone at night, lost in thought, never sensing the eyes watching her from the shadows.

My eyes.

She writes about monsters, but she doesn’t realize she’s already caught the attention of the worst one.

And now, it’s too late.

Because I don’t let go of what’s mine.

And Adeline Reilly?

She belongs to me.

---

The scent of blood is intoxicating. Metallic. Sharp. It clings to the air, mixing with the faint stench of sweat and piss.

Pathetic.

I watch the man dangling from the ceiling, his body swaying ever so slightly from the weight of the chains biting into his wrists. His head is slumped forward, dark hair matted to his forehead, his breathing ragged.

Fucking disappointing.

I roll up my sleeves, the material sliding smoothly over my forearms. Every movement is controlled. Calculated. There’s no rush—I savor moments like these. The silence before the storm. The fear thick enough to choke on. The way their eyes dart wildly, searching for some shred of mercy they will never find.

The betrayal had been small. Insignificant, even. But I don't let shit slide.

"Wake him up," I order, my voice smooth, unaffected.

A bucket of ice-cold water is dumped over his head. He jerks awake with a strangled gasp, body trembling from the shock. His eyes flicker open, wild and glassy, darting around before settling on me.

And that’s when I see it—the realization. The horror.

I smile.

“Z—Zade,” he stutters, lips cracked, face pale. “P-Please… I—”

“Shhh.” I take a step closer, pressing my finger against his trembling lips. "Don’t beg. It’s beneath you."

He swallows hard.

I grip his jaw roughly, forcing his head up so he has no choice but to meet my eyes.

"Do you know what I hate the most?" I ask, my voice a whisper of menace. "Rats. Filthy, disloyal creatures. And you, James… you're a fucking rat, aren’t you?"

“N-No! I—I swear, I didn’t—”

His words end in a strangled scream as I slam my fist into his gut, knocking the wind out of him. He chokes, body convulsing, but I don’t give him a second to recover before delivering another brutal punch.

Pain. That’s the only language these fuckers understand.

I grab my knife from the metal tray beside me, dragging the sharp edge along his throat—not deep enough to kill, just enough for a thin line of blood to surface.

"Tell me, James," I murmur. "What exactly did you think was going to happen when you stole from me?"

“I—I didn’t steal! I swear—”

Lies.

I sigh, shaking my head. "That’s unfortunate."

Then, without hesitation, I drive the knife into his thigh, twisting the blade deep into muscle.

His scream is ear-shattering, echoing off the concrete walls.

Music to my fucking ears.

I kneel in front of him, watching as the agony consumes him. Sweat drips down his face, his entire body trembling. He’s praying for death already.

Too bad.

“You know what’s worse than betrayal?” I murmur, pressing my mouth close to his ear. "Disrespect."

I rip the blade out in one swift motion, his body jerking violently. Blood pools beneath him, the scent thick in the air.

He sobs, broken, defeated.

Pathetic.

I stand, my gaze cold as I watch the life slowly drain from his eyes.

"You will serve as a lesson," I tell him, wiping the blood off my blade with a cloth. "For the next man who thinks he can fuck with me."

Then, without a second thought, I pull my gun from my holster and press it to his forehead.

He doesn’t even have time to beg before I pull the trigger.

The shot echoes through the warehouse, and James slumps forward, lifeless.

I exhale, rolling my shoulders back.

Another loose end tied up.

Another lesson taught.

And I don’t regret a single fucking thing.

The scent of blood still clings to my skin as I step out of the warehouse, the cool night air doing little to wash away the high of violence. My pulse is steady, my mind clear. Killing has always been second nature to me—necessary, efficient.

But this? This is something different.

I lean against the sleek black car parked across the street, my eyes locked on the house ahead. Her house.

Adeline Reilly.

I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t have followed her. But reason and restraint never held much weight with me. Not when it comes to her.

The soft glow from her bedroom window spills onto the street, and I catch the flicker of movement inside. She’s there. Alone.

Just like every night.

I should leave. Walk away before this turns into something worse than obsession.

But I don’t.

Instead, I stay in the shadows, watching. Studying. My pulse remains slow, controlled—but beneath that, something darker simmers. Something primal.

She moves through her bedroom, oblivious to the fact that she has an audience. Her long, dark hair tumbles over her shoulders, the silk nightgown clinging to her body as she stretches, completely unaware of the predator lurking just outside her world.

I wonder what she’d do if she knew. If she felt my eyes on her. If she realized just how thoroughly I’ve consumed every inch of her life.

A car passes down the street, its headlights briefly illuminating my face, but I don’t move. No one sees me unless I want them to.

Inside, Adeline picks up a book, curling onto the armchair beside the window. Her brows furrow as she reads, her teeth worrying her bottom lip in concentration.

Fuck.

That lip.

That mouth.

I exhale slowly, reigning myself in. Not yet.

Patience.

Because soon enough, she’ll know exactly what it means to be mine.

Even if she doesn’t want to be.

Especially if she doesn’t want to be.

---

I lean back in my chair, eyes locked on the glowing screen, watching her every movement. She has no idea she’s already mine. No idea that her life is no longer her own.

Not yet.

But soon… soon, she’ll understand.

I don’t chase. I take.

And Adeline Reilly?

She was made to be taken.

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