I close my eyes, throat thick. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell you the truth?” His thumb brushes my cheek and I lean into his touch despite myself. “You think the heat was the first time I wanted to touch you? I’ve wanted you since that first meeting. The way you held my gaze when other men would have looked away. The way you didn’t flinch when I tested you. The way you pushed back instead of cowering.” His voice drops. “And your scent. Even through the suppressants, I kept catching traces of it. Fresh orange blossoms. It drove me insane.”
“That’s just biology.”
“Maybe it is.” He leans closer, and I feel his warmth envelope me. “Biology and circumstance and two fucked-up people finding each other in the worst possible way. But it doesn’t make it less real.”
I open my eyes and immediately wish I hadn’t. His pupils are blown wide, dark with want, and the intensity of his gaze makes my breath catch.
“I think I still want to kill you.”
A smile creeps on his lips. “You probably should have. But I’m still alive, and you’re still here.”
And that’s the problem, isn’t it? I’m still here. Not because he’s forcing me. Not really.
I’m still here because some part of me wants to be.
The computer chimes, shattering the moment. Enzo’s attention snaps away, and he’s back at his desk in seconds, all business, like he didn’t just casually nuke my emotional stability.
I watch as a deep frown forms on his face.
“What?” I ask, moving to look over his shoulder.
“Viktor. One of my men just spotted him. He’s at a private airfield outside the city.”
“He’s running.”
“Trying to.” His phone is already in his hand, and he’s making calls in rapid-fire Italian. I catch enough to understand: men mobilized, airfield surrounded, no one gets in or out. Something about a warehouse. Something about taking Viktor alive.
When he hangs up, his expression is cold, the face of a man who runs an empire built on blood.
“They’ll have him in an hour. Maybe less.” He looks at me, and there’s something dangerous in his eyes. “I need to handle this personally. You should stay here and wait for my return.”
I’m already on my feet. “The fuck I will.”
“Luca—”
“No.” My voice cuts through the space between us, hard and clear. “There is no scenario where I sit in this house andwait while my brother’s murderer is taken down without me. I’m not watching this from the sidelines like some good little omega.”
His jaw flexes. “It’ll be dangerous.”
“So was coming into your home to kill you,” I snap. “Didn’t stop me then either.”
I step in close, meeting his gaze head-on. “I didn’t come this far to be protected, Enzo. He killed my brother. I have every right to be there.”
Enzo studies me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nods.
“Get your jacket.”
SIX
The stench of rust and blood hits me the moment we enter the warehouse. Industrial lights hang from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows across empty space. No windows. There’s one exit at the back, guarded by two of Enzo’s men.
And in the center, tied to a metal chair with zip ties cutting into his wrists, is Viktor Sokolov.
He looks smaller than I expected. Older. And from the looks of it, someone really worked him over before we arrived. Blood drips from a split lip, and his left eye is already swelling shut.
His good eye tracks us as we approach. Focuses on Enzo first, then slides to me. Something sparks in his expression. Recognition, maybe. Or just the calculation of a man who knows he’s already dead, trying to figure out how to take someone down with him.
