“Watch yourself,” Valerio warns quietly. “He might hold back. I won’t. And I don’t need a gun.”
Giacomo lifts his hands in mock surrender, amusement glittering in his eyes. He thinks he’s winning. That’s the dangerous part.
“Leave,” I say, every word carved from restraint.
He steps back, brushing imaginary lint from his lapel like he hasn’t just threatened my entire world.
The silence thickens—men pretending not to listen, pretending they don’t survive on moments like this. Giacomo knows it.
He raises his voice just enough for the room to hear. “Enjoy the peace while it lasts, gentlemen. Because soon—” his gaze flicks to me, casual as sin, “—what’s his will belong to no one.”
I move without thinking. Valerio locks onto my arm, stopping me just short of violence.
“Ciao, boys,” Giacomo says lightly, bowing as if we’re all friends, and walks out.
I don’t breathe until the door shuts behind him.
Valerio releases me, jaw tight. “He’s courting death, walking in here like that.”
“No,” I murmur. “He wants an audience.”
I scan the room. Eyes drop. Faces turn away. He wanted them to see. To hear. To remember.
“This ends,” I say, fire burning clean through me. “I’m done waiting.”
Valerio arches a brow. “Waiting for what?”
“For restraint.” I stare at the door like he might come back. “He’s mocking my family. My wife.”
“But we live by the code,” Valerio says carefully. “And we die by it.”
“When it comes to my wife—” I snap my head toward him, “—there is no code.”
My voice lowers,lethal. “I don’t care if we have to fake a strike, burn a trail, rewrite the rules. We are going after him.”
32
BEATRICE
The morning air bites at my skin, damp with dew and the faint scent of burning leaves. I push through the last stretch of my jog, heart pounding, breath ragged.
I run like I’m trying to outrun the demons in my mind.
Last nightI tried to draw, tried to create—nothing came out. I’m stuck in this suspended state that won’t let me move forward.
“Dammit.” I come to a grinding halt in front of the door, breath sharp, chest tight, forcing myself to stay upright. “Fuck…”
My lungs are on fire. My head feels clamped in a vice. My thoughts are nothing but a churn of fear, uncertainty, and the constant instinct to look over my shoulder, waiting for that monster to appear again.
I cough, and one of the guards by the door steps forward.
“Ma’am.”
I lift a hand, waving him off between breaths. “I’m okay. Just a little out of shape. No need to panic.”
I straighten slowly, taking in a few deep breaths. The sting behind my eyes has been building since I stepped outside, but I blink it back and tilt my face up toward the sky.
Then I turn to the guard, giving him a pointed look.
