“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That wall. That flat tone. The one that means you’re about to shut the entire world out because you can’t stomach feeling anything.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m not shutting down.”
“You are.”
I glanced at Luca, who was pacing nearby, scanning the street.
“I’m not losing it, Nik.”
“I didn’t say you were losing it. I said you’re bleeding, and you don’t even realize it.”
I rubbed my thumb along the metal ring on my finger. The one from Madeline.
“Me and Luca are fine. Bastion’s handling the port. Rome’s in the tunnels. The dynasty’s intact.”
“I’m not asking about the dynasty. I’m asking ifyou’reintact.”
The words hit deeper than I wanted them to.
“I’ve got a grip on it,” I muttered.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Silence. That practiced silence he only gave me when he was worried I was too close to the edge.
I could picture him leaning back in one of those carved dynasty chairs, surrounded by people pretending not to eavesdrop. Eyes on him. On me.
“It helped me make a point,” Nik said finally.
“Glad to serve as dinner entertainment.”
“That’s not what I said.” His tone softened. “You’d tell me if you were slipping, right?”
I almost laughed. “Slipping?”
“If you were losing control. If it wasn’t just about the men in the club. If it was—” He exhaled. “—about her.”
My jaw tightened. Of course he knew about Madeline.
“I’m fine,”
“Vince—”
“Drop it, Nik.”
Another long practiced pause.
“Alright. I believe you.”
He didn’t. But I appreciated the mercy of him pretending he did.
“Rome said the bricks might be faulty,” I forced the conversation back to neutral ground.
