The decanter makes another round, amber liquid splashing into the crystal as morning inches toward noon. I feel the whiskey warming my blood, but it does nothing to dull the edge that forms when Remus leans forward, ashing his cigar slowly.
“About those explosions,” he starts, and just like that, the temperature in the room drops ten degrees. My jaw locks tight enough to crack teeth, the old scar tissue on my neck suddenly feeling too tight for my skin.
“Which one?” I ask, voice flat as a blade. “The one that took my eye, or the more recent attempt?”
Enzo’s gaze sharpens, picking up on the tension vibrating through me. “Both,” he says. “We haven’t had a proper family discussion about either.”
My hand finds my lighter again, flicking it open and closed in a rhythm that matches my pulse. The small flame dances, hypnotic and familiar. “Not much to discuss. Someone’s trying to burn me down. I’m going to find them first.”
I really fucking wish people would stop bringing it up. Every time, I remember the heat of it, the force throwing me backward, the smell of my own flesh burning all over again. It’s not exactly pleasant.
History repeating itself in the worst possible way. My fingers curl into a fist around my glass, knuckles whitening with the strain of not shattering it.
“We’ve got resources,” Rafe continues. “More men. Better intel. Let us help, Matteo. This isn’t just about you anymore.”
“I’ll handle it myself.” The words come out clipped, final. A statement, not a suggestion. I meet each of their gazes in turn, challenging any of them to argue. “My problem. My mess. My fucking cleanup.”
A beat of silence stretches between us, broken only by the gentle clink of ice against crystal. Then Remus nods once, sharp and decisive. “Your call,” he concedes. “But you’ll tell us when you know who’s responsible.”
It’s not a question, and I don’t treat it like one, which means I don’t have to answer.
Enzo studies me over the rim of his glass, something calculating in his expression. “We trust you, Matteo. Always have.” He pauses, lips curving into a smirk. “Even if your methods occasionally involve more property damage than strictly necessary.”
“Property damage is just restructuring with style,” I counter, feeling my mouth twitch toward a smile despite myself.
“Speaking of restructuring,” Remus cuts in, leaning back with a predatory grin, “let’s circle back to this love confession. Never thought I’d see the day Matteo would be domesticated.”
“I’m not domesticated,” I growl, my eye narrowing. “I just found someone worth keeping.”
“The lady with the knife,” Rafe supplies helpfully, earning him confused looks from the others. “She pulled a blade on some asshole at an ice cream shop. Matteo nearly creamed in his pants. Pun intended.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter, but there’s no denying the heat that pulses through me at the memory of Raven, all righteous fury and sharp edges, threatening to cut a man’s dick off for touching her.
Chaos incarnate, and somehow, impossibly, mine. Or at least she was, before everything went sideways at Emilio’s.
“You should bring her around,” Enzo suggests, his tone casual in a way that immediately puts me on edge. “Family dinner. Let us meet the woman who’s tamed the beast.”
I stare into my whiskey, watching the light fracture through crystal and liquid. “Might be a while,” I admit reluctantly. “I think I’m in the doghouse.”
All three cousins turn to me with varying degrees of interest.
“You fucked up already?” Rafe asks, sounding almost impressed. “That was fast, even for you.”
“I didn’t fuck up,” I insist, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “That’s the problem. I have no idea what happened. One minute we’re having dinner at Emilio’s, the next she’s shutting her door in my face and ignoring my texts.”
“What exactly happened at Emilio’s?” Enzo inquires, his voice suspiciously neutral.
I shrug, replaying the night in my head for the hundredth time. “Dinner was going well. We were talking, sharing dessert. She was teaching me how her father taught her to pick locks.”
“Very romantic,” Rafe deadpans.
“Then Tony showed up,” I continue, ignoring him.
“Tony?” Remus repeats. “Antonia was there?”
“Yeah,” I confirm. “I’d arranged to meet her for intel on the explosion. Sent Raven to the bathroom to get the envelope from her. When she came back she was cold, different.”
The silence that follows is deafening. Enzo pinches the bridge of his nose, looking like he’s fighting a migraine. Rafe stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. Remus just shakes his head slowly.
