Alex chuckles. “Touchy.” He leans closer, voice dropping. “She’s a smart little lawyer, too. Not shrewd enough to keep away from you or work for people who might get her hurt. But then, Romeros and Morettis are no strangers to danger. If she is going to be part of your world, maybe she should learn early what to expect.”
That’s it.
I don’t think. I don’t plan.
I move.
My fist connects with his jaw in a clean, brutal arc. The crack is loud enough to cut through the music. Alex staggers back into a table, bottles crashing to the floor as patrons shout and scatter.
Someone yells.
Someone else laughs nervously.
I’m on him before he can recover, grabbing his jacket and slamming him into the bar. Wood splinters under the impact. He swings wildly, catching my shoulder, but it barely registers.
All I see is red.
All I feel is the cold certainty that he meant every word.
I drive my knee into his gut. He grunts, folding, and I use the opening to smash his head back against the bar top. Glass shatters—blood spills.
The bouncer starts toward us, but Lucien steps in front of him, calm as sin. Anthony’s already moving too, keeping the sister back, murmuring something sharp in her ear.
Alex claws at me, desperation creeping into his eyes now. “You think you’ve won?” he spits, blood on his teeth. “You think this ends anything?”
I lean in close, my voice low and lethal. “This endsyourtesting me.”
I hit him once more for good measure and let him drop.
The bar is chaos now. Chairs overturned. Drinks spilled. The music stutters, then cuts entirely, leaving only the hum of voices and the sharp ring in my ears.
Alex scrambles to his feet, fury replacing shock. He points at me, wild-eyed. “This isn’t over, Moretti.” His gaze flicks past me — toward where he knows Dallen exists in my world. “You and your whore girlfriend are going to regret this.”
The word snaps something in me.
Lucien steps forward, a dangerous smile in place. “Careful,” he warns. “You’re already leaving with your pride in pieces. Don’t make it worse.”
Alex laughs again, but it’s hollow. He backs away, his sister pulling him toward the door. “Tell your girl to watch her back,” he calls. “She’s playing in waters she doesn’t understand.”
Then he’s gone.
The door slams behind them, the echo loud in the sudden quiet.
I stand there for a moment, chest heaving, knuckles throbbing, blood not all mine streaking my hand.
Dallen’s face flashes in my mind again. Fear claws at my gut this time — sharp and unwelcome. They’ve said her name out loud now, which means this isn’t just business anymore. It’s personal.
And I’ll burn the world down before I let them touch her and burn them in it.
EIGHTEEN
DALLEN
I tellmyself I deserve a drink. Not because I’ve had a hard day at work—though I have—but because my head won’t shut up. Because every quiet moment is filled with Stephen. His mouth, his hands, his sweetness and temper, the way he looks at me like I’m something he’s already decided belongs to him. And because if I don’t talk this shit out with someone sane, someone who knows me beyond the lawyer and the good daughter and the woman who always does the right thing, I might actually implode.
I text Amy and tell her to meet me at the bar near my office—the one with the low lighting, the decent cocktails, and the merciful anonymity of weekday crowds. By the time I arrive, heels clicking against worn floorboards, the bar hums softly, glasses clinking, muted laughter rising and falling like background noise. It smells like citrus, gin, and polished wood. Familiar. Safe.
Amy is already there, perched on a stool with a martini in hand, dark hair loose around her shoulders. She smiles the moment she sees me. “There she is,” she says. “You look like you’re either about to cry or commit a felony.”
