"Listen, first of all, his case handler is not exactly, let’s say, on board with this whole idea, but I pushed for one thing. He agreed to let you enter the booth and shake Salt’s hand, just to see if there’s an electric jolt like during First Touch. The only issue is that with betas it does not always work the same way. It might be just a faint shiver, but I do not want to give up at this stage."
"Wow, how conveniently you just brushed aside the quadruple murderer thing."
"Let’s just… leave it aside for now, okay? Focus. Just touch his hand and that’s it—"
"That was our original deal from the start! But new circumstances have obviously emerged!"
Storm leans in slightly and places a hand on my shoulder, his fingers tightening as if to anchor my attention.
"Listen, dude, why do I feel like I’m the only one here who actually wants to bring this situation to a clear conclusion? You do want to meet your True Mate, right? Unless I’m mistaken."
"Forgive me for not being enthusiastic, but I have some doubts about a serial killer being my fated mate. Reasonable, don’t you think?"
He huffs again and gives me a light shake.
"Get your terminology straight. A serial killer kills with cooling periods. Salt would be considered a mass murderer, since he killed them in one shooting."
"Wow, that soundsso much better!" I burst into laughter, dripping with mockery. "A mass murderer, what a relief. And here I was, all worried. Silly me."
Storm snorts loudly. "Calm down. Second Chance would not have taken Salt if he were just a cold-blooded killer."
"How do you kill four people and not qualify as a cold-blooded murderer? Please, do explain it to me like I’m five," I say, my mouth twisting into a sarcastic grimace.
Storm takes a deeper breath, his fingers still firmly gripping my shoulder. It looks like he’s digging through deeper reserves of patience.
"It happened in the heat of the moment. He shot the people he believed were responsible for his brother’s horrible death. It was not calculated or premeditated. He heard them talking about torturing him, raping and killing, and he shot them. The Second Chance people examined his case very closely and decided he deserves exactly that, asecondchance. That is why I am asking you to at least try. Go up to him, shake his hand, and we will see what this is really about."
I let out a huff in frustration. "A tragic story, admittedly, but this still looks really bad. He may be impulsive, and geared toward violence. And you do not even know my name or who I am!"
"That does not matter to me, because my job is to find the perfect matches—"
Inevitably, I have enough of his stubbornness.
"Maybe it should matter, damn it! I am not some random guy with no baggage. I am Anzo Ferro’s nephew, get it? Yes, the mafia capo dethroned three days ago shortly after a failed assassination attempt that happened, surprise, surprise, right here on the grounds of your damn matchmaking house!"
Storm’s face changes.
It’s like the air escapes him. His turquoise eyes even seem to dim a little as he stares at me for a few strangely long seconds. Then he goes pale, looks away, lifts a hand, and rubs his forehead. What is that about?
"You ran from their compound three days ago, didn’t you?"
I freeze. Why is he asking that? I manage, "Yes."
"You escaped with your brother and a few others?"
Damn it. How could he know that? I try to step back, but his other hand holds me firmly in place. I would rather not make a scene or struggle, so I just grit my teeth.
"How do you know?"
Storm is silent for a moment. "That is not relevant right now," he adds evasively.
"I would actually like to know."
Storm presses his lips together, then mutters, "It is public knowledge. After the FBI raid, the papers reported that two of Anzo’s nephews escaped the compound, along with others." His tone is cautiously neutral. I am almost certain he did not learn this from the newspapers, but I cannot prove it.
The silence is heavy, and Storm sighs.
"So, your name is Eliano Ferro," he says, more like a statement, tilting his head.
