Twenty years. It had been twenty years since Matt Hang had an encounter with Alexander, and it still ended the same. Except for this time, his mind wasn't flashing back and forth from a ten-year-old Alexandria presenting a chipped coffee mug with world-best-grandma painted on its sides; she had canceled out grandma and wrote dad with an erasable marker. To a seventeen-year-old rebellious Alexander pushing him off the roof to evade arrest. This time, his mind remained constant on the memory of the last time he saw her; the Hunters' protege, Dark Blade, dressed in an all-black unitard with a sword - stained with the blood of a dozen men - in one hand; pointing a gun at his head with the other. Although she denies it, Matt knows it was Alexander. How could he not? For almost a decade, he had been free of the horror and the sting of betrayal. But with Alexander back in his life, there is only so much he can do to prevent the flashbacks. And what did she come bac

"You're saying Cynthia is my cousin?" Marcus said in a high-pitched voice; involuntarily pacing the width of the tunnel. "I kissed, and smooched, and did all kinds of stuff with my cousin!?" "She is not your cousin, Marcus, calm down," Alexander said. "Oh really!" Marcus laughed in disbelief. "Isn't Mr. Valentine my Uncle? Oh my God, now it makes sense. You never wanted Cynthia and me together. I am not as close to her as I would like. That's why you keep telling me to get rid of her, you devious fuck-shit." "I said calm down, Marcus," Alexander's voice had changed tone. It's no longer calm and collected, it sounds like she is on the verge of exploding in his face. "She cheated on you back in high school and you still held that grudge. Don't push that on me." Alexander said, watching him pace up and down the width of the tunnel. "And she isn't your cousin for the love of God, calm down!" "Okay. Okay, I'm calm. I'm all cool and calm." He said, still pacing.

Tasha has known Marcus for almost a decade and a half; through his senior years in high school, and she has been his manager for seven years now. And yet, the work hasn't gotten any easier. Especially when Tasha has been left in charge. Currently, Big Joe and Bobby are making a mess of everything in the Family room as they play another round of blackjack with Sara as their dealer. She had tried to keep the two bouncers in check; to stop them from spilling drinks on the rugs, caution their rough handling of the side stools, and the snacks they keep munching and spilling. All to no avail. And Sara didn't help. Although unfamiliar with any of them and without a valid reason to still be in the Manor after sunset, her boldness and social skills were beyond anything Tasha could ever dream of. The level of sass with which the lawyer used to shoot Tasha's attempts down was almost dominating. Now, Tasha has retired to the bar area of the Family room with her iPad in hand,

Phoenix is not a very big city, but it houses a lot of wealthy folks. And one of the few occasions you find all of them together is a fundraiser. Marcus rolled up to the red carpet and stepped out in his tux to meet a multitude of reporters taking pictures of his every move as he walked up the stairs to enter the main Lounge. Even though Marcus enjoyed being flashed in front of dozens of cameras and the luxury of Chateau Luxe complimented him, he still doesn't like fundraisers. With a shallow sigh, Marcus moved through the lounge and every head turned to look at him at least once. And most of them would walk up to him to compliment his looks or declare themselves a fan. But more than half the time, they came to offer their belated condolences on the death of his parents in a car crash; mentioning how charitable his father was and what a good man he was. Marcus quickly found his way to the main hall, where the main event would be held, only to find it unoccupied. Th

The next time Marcus opened his eyes, it was under a starry sky on the terrace of a house. And the first thing his eyes fell upon were three men seated on recliners, watching him. "He is awake!" The one in the middle called out as he stood up and walked towards. He has the exact demeanor of a bodyguard, just like Alexander; he is not very big but muscular and his red shirt complimented him just fine. "Wakey wakey sleepyhead," A familiar voice said. Marcus turned to see an even more familiar face; it was the black man, one of the thugs that had attacked him and Alexander two nights ago at the club. Marcus would have thought he learned a lesson on their last encounter with the death of his friend, but of course not. That murderous look of hatred was still present and Marcus began to fear his fate. "You will die a horrible death tonight, Marc C," The black man said, coming up to stand beside the Red shirt guy. "And I will be the last face you see so you can tell your