For a beat, none of us move. The gunfire fades. Romano’s men are gone.
It’s just me, Julian… and the twin brother he never told me existed.
My pulse is still hammering when I grab Julian by the shoulders, scanning him for injuries.
“You hurt?” I ask, my voice harsher than I mean it to be.
His eyes are glassy, his chest heaving. “You’re an idiot,” he mutters, the words catching like splinters. “Why thehellwould you step in front of me like that?”
My grip tightens. “Because if someone’s gonna take a bullet, it’s not gonna be you.”
His jaw clenches, eyes flicking away like he can’t stand to look at me. “That’s not your choice to make.”
I close the gap. “It became my choice thesecondI realized losing you would gut me worse than any bullet ever could.”
His gaze snaps back to mine, his voice shaking. “You think I’m worth dying for? AftereverythingI’ve done?”
“I don’t give a damn about your sins,” I murmur, my voice steady but burning. “I’d spill blood for you. I’d stop my own heart for you.I’d watch the whole world burn to ash if it meant keeping you safe.”
His breath hitches. His hand twitches like he’s fighting the urge to grab me, to pull me in. My pulse roars in my ears.
“You’re insane,” he whispers.
“Probably,” I murmur, stepping closer until there’s barely a breath between us. “But so are you for thinking I’d ever let you face this alone.”
Before he can answer, a low, rasping chuckle echoes from behind us. “Hate to interrupt your little confession,” Cassian says, the gun still in his hand. “but we’ve got a body to bury.”
Julian whirls at him. “Jesus Christ, Cassian.”
“What? We’ve got a six-foot, two-hundred-pound problem bleeding all over the goddamn floor.” He jerks his chin toward the corpse. “Help me out here.”
I sigh, running a hand down my face. “I’ll get the arms.”
Cassian crouches, hooking his arms under Silvio’s legs, making a show of grunting. “Careful with his head, Vitale. Pretty sure the bastard’s got more brain in there than he ever used.”
We drag the body outside. Julian’s posted at the warehouse door, scanning the street, one hand on his gun. The last thing we need is the feds or Romano’s stragglers showing up.
The Benz is gone. Enzo and Luca must’ve taken it. So we wedge Silvio Romano into the trunk of the Rolls. It’s like cramming a corpse into a designer coffin.
I climb behind the wheel, Julian slams into shotgun, and Cassian drops into the backseat, legs stretched out, smirking at both of us through the rearview.
“What?” he says, almost cheerful. “Nothing saysfamily reunionlike a body disposal.”
I laugh. Julian elbows me in the ribs.
“Don’t encourage him,” he mutters, glaring out the window.
“Encourage me?” Cassian leans forward between the seats, grinning like the devil. “Oh, I haven’t even gotten started.”
He turns to me. “Vitale, did you know your boy here used to cryevery timehe lost to me at chess?”
Julian whips around in his seat. “That was when I was eight—”
Cassian waves him off.“Eleven.And it wasn’t just chess. Cards. Checkers. Anything, really. Once in high school, he lost a coin toss and didn’t talk to me for three days.”
I glance at Julian, smirking. “Is that so?”
Julian mutters something under his breath that sounds like a death threat.
