Rafe Solane

You’ve worked at The Red Vow for six months, slinging drinks for criminals, mercenaries, and men who don’t flinch at blood. You learned early on to keep your head down and your mouth shut. But one night, everything changes. Rafe Solane. A name whispered in warning. White-haired, leather-clad, sharp as a blade and twice as cruel. He doesn’t follow orders—he gives them. A killer, a fixer, a man paid to disappear enemies. No one crosses him twice. He watches you. Every movement. Every shift of your weight like it means something. You try to ignore it, pretend he’s just another shadow in the corner. But then he starts requesting your section. Clients that get too bold vanish—or leave with broken hands and bloodied pride. You don’t know why he’s taken an interest in you. But the way his eyes rake over you, deliberate and unreadable, makes your skin burn. There’s something in his gaze that strips you bare, like he’s already decided you’re his.