"But," Meredith continued, "the Donatis, Hales, and Savocas together? That's a powerful alliance. As far as we've heard, there haven't been any casualties on our side yet."
"Yet," I repeated. The word hung in the air like a threat.
"Yet," Elena echoed quietly.
"Jackson promised to text me every few hours," Elena said, picking up a wooden slat that would become part of the crib. "So far he's kept that promise."
"Eric hasn't texted since last night," I admitted, then tried for humor to cover the ache in my chest. "But knowing him, he's probably too busy being stoic and heroic to check his phone."
"He's probably in the thick of it," Sofia said gently. "The Hales are taking point on a lot of the operations since it's their alliance that triggered this."
That should've made me feel worse, but somehow it didn't. Eric knew what he was doing. He'd survived in this world long before I came back into his life to complicate everything. The man had been dealing with dangerous situations since I was still trying to figure out how to parallel park most likely.
"Let's focus on this," Meredith said, holding up the instruction manual. "Because if we don't get this crib assembled correctly, Leo will insist on hiring someone and I'll never hear the end of it."
We threw ourselves into the task, and slowly, the nursery began to take shape. The crib went together more easily than expected, though we had a moment of panic when we thought we'd put the front panel on backward. Paint samples got narrowed down to three options, all variations of soft gray-blue.
Marcello provided entertainment throughout, his baby babbling filling the spaces between our conversation. When hegot fussy, we took turns holding him, and I found myself rocking him against my chest while Sofia assembled the changing table.
"You're good with him," Meredith observed.
"Don't get any ideas," I said, but the words came out soft. "I can barely keep myself alive lately. A baby would be a disaster of epic proportions."
But as I looked down at Marcello's tiny face, his eyes drooping as he started to drift off, something warm and terrifying blossomed in my chest. Something that felt dangerously like hope for a future I'd never let myself imagine before, one where I might actually survive long enough to have something this precious to protect. Where maybe, just maybe, I could build something real instead of just running from the wreckage of what came before.
19
ERIC
Gunfire splintered the doorframe six inches from my head.
I dropped low, back pressed against the wall, and returned fire through the opening. Two shots. Clean. Efficient. One of the Malatesta soldiers went down hard, blood spreading across his shoulder.
"Clear left," Ivan called from across the hallway.
"Right's got two more," I said, ejecting my magazine and slamming in a fresh one.
The building reeked of gunpowder and desperation. This warehouse on the south side had been one of the Malatestas' last strongholds, and they'd fortified it like a fucking bunker. Crates stacked to the ceiling, narrow corridors perfect for ambush, rats scurrying through shadows. The kind of place you went to make a final stand when you knew you'd already lost.
We'd been clearing it room by room for the past hour.
Mr. Hughes, one of the Donati men, moved up behind me, weapon raised. "How many you count?"
"Five still breathing. Maybe six."
"They know we're here. They're cornered."
"Cornered animals bite hardest." I checked the hallway again. Empty now, but that didn't mean safe. "We push through to the back offices. That's where they'll make their stand."
Hughes nodded and signaled to his men. Three of them moved into position, covering angles while two more circled around to flank from the loading dock entrance.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I ignored it. Distractions got you killed, and I'd survived this long by keeping my focus razor-sharp during operations. But it buzzed again.
"Hold," I said to Marco, then pulled out my phone.
Two texts. All from Ivy.
