She met Enzo’s gaze and kept hers steady.
“You’re going to confront Vitale,” she said.
“Yes.” He studied her, his gaze watchful as if waiting for her to give something away.
Her chest tightened. She didn’t have to ask if he’d be hurt. She already knew the answer was a solidmaybe,and Enzo wasn’t the kind of man who avoided damage if it got him what he wanted.
She fisted her fingers at her side to keep from reaching for him. As much as she didn’t want to, she knew she needed to end this now, before she suffered a similar fate to the one that had landed her in WitSec. “Be careful,” she said mildly.
His mouth curved faintly, as if he found the concept amusing. “I usually am.”
“That’s not true,” she said. “You’re just confident.”
“True,” he agreed with a wan smile.
She stepped back before he could say anything that might make this harder. “This is where we stop,” she said quietly. “You go handle your world. I go back to mine.”
“Kathleen—”
“No,” she interrupted, not unkindly. “This was…intense. And real. But it doesn’t last. Not without collateral damage.” She thought of Connor’s face. His laugh. His trust. “I can’t afford that.”
Enzo didn’t argue, which surprised her. For a moment, she wondered if he understood more than she’d given him credit for.
“Good luck,” she said. The words were simple. Final. “I hope you come out of this alive.”
Something dark flickered across his expression at that, something protective, maybe even regretful. He inclined his head once, a gesture of respect rather than affection.
“You too,” he said.
They stood there for another second, the weight of everything unsaid pressing between them. Then Enzo turned and walked away, already shifting back into the man who thrived in shadows and danger.
Eyes stinging with unshed tears, Kathleen watched until he disappeared. Only then did she let herself worry. About Vitale. About blood spilled in the name of power. About whether Enzo would walk away from this or whether this was the kind of confrontation that ended with a body.Please, god, not his.
She pushed the thought aside.
Fantasy was seductive. Reality was a responsibility.
And this time, she chose correctly, or so she hoped.
Mackie, Alex, Logan, and Kathleen were ensconced in a corner booth at the Jasmine Door. The restaurant hummed softly around them, low conversation, clinking glasses, the muted elegance of a place designed to make people linger.
Kathleen sipped her wine without really tasting it. The vintage wasn’t something Enzo would have chosen. Massive pressure burned in her back and spine. She was so tightly wound, she’d held her shoulders hunched near her ears for what felt like weeks instead of days.
She tried to follow the conversation, but frustrating tension hummed beneath everything. Her thoughts kept drifting to Enzo. To Mallorca. To whatever was unfolding there right now without her.
“Sorry?” she said, for what felt like the umpteenth time.
Logan smiled patiently. “I asked how Connor is doing.”
“Oh.” She blinked, forcing herself back into the moment. “He’s good. Loves university. He’s off on some nature trek his coach uses as a team-building exercise.”
“Sounds awful,” Alex said as she ate the last bite of her meal. “I abhor camping.”
Mackie frowned slightly. “Connor is your son?”
“Yes.” Kathleen smiled at her, noting that Mackie looked nearly as miserable as she felt. “And you? Do you have kids?”
Mackie shook her head. “No. Not really part of the plan.” Her smile was tight. “In our line of work, family is…a vulnerability.”
