I step back again.
“I think I can handle whatever this is.” I wave my hand between them, heart racing. “Just tell me.”
“Mafia.”
Flynn’s voice cuts through the air like a blade, cold and casual from the corner.
All eyes swing toward him.
“Fuck, Flynn,” Declan groans.
“What?” I ask, looking at him. He’s too calm. Too composed. And that… smile at the edge of his mouth? It chills me.
“Irish Mafia. Old families. Declan is the leader.”
His voice is calm, flat. I swear he’senjoyingthis.
His eyes flick to Declan. There’s a smirk between them, something unspoken, and I hate that it makes my stomach twist.
“Fucking hell, Flynn,” Declan mutters, rubbing a hand over his dark hair.
And I freeze.
Wait.
Mafia?
All of them?
The mansion. The penthouse. The expensive cars. The suits.
I look at them, one by one. The way they carry themselves. Like, they don’t follow rules; theymakethem. Like they expect obedience without asking. Like they could kill someone and still be home in time for dinner.
“Autumn? Sweetie?”
Viviana’s voice is soft. I look at her. Her eyes are wide, pleading.
“And you’re married to Declan,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
She nods. “I never wanted you pulled into this. We did everything we could to keep you out.”
Right.
Excepttelling me.
I’ve been to their home more times than I can count.
I trusted her.
“Did you know Flynn owned the apartment?”
I stare at her, searching for any flicker of a lie.
“No. Not when we saw it. Only after. Kian didn’t know either, not until the realtor told him while we were checking the bedroom.” Her eyes are full of worry. “I swear.”
“She didn’t know. No one did. Besides me and Kaden.”
Flynn’s voice cuts in like a fucking razor.
