I watch Bruno from the corner of my eye. He's eating, at least. Slowly.
It's something.
Nico leans close, his breath warm against my ear. "Stop worrying about everyone else."
"I'm not?—"
"You are." His thumb strokes my thigh. "You've checked on Bruno four times. Counted how much Lily's eaten twice. Made sure my mother's wine glass is full."
Damn him for noticing everything.
"Old habits," I murmur.
"New life." He presses a kiss to my temple, brief and possessive. "Relax. Eat."
I want to argue, but Lily chooses that moment to announce, very loudly, that she wants to show everyone her new bunny drawings after dinner.
"All of them?" Lorenzo asks, looking slightly alarmed.
"All of them," Lily confirms. "There's twenty-seven."
Pietro catches my eye across the table and smiles and I realize this is my family now. These people. This table. This loud, complicated, dangerous, loving mess.
They're criminals. I know that. I've accepted it, even if I haven't fully processed it. They run guns and launder money and do things I don't ask about because I'm not sure I want the answers.
But here's the thing about learning they were mafia after I got to know them: I saw them as people first.
Maybe that makes me naive. Maybe it makes me complicit.
Or maybe it just makes me human.
Nico's hand tightens on my thigh.
I lean into him. Into this. Into us.
For the first time in years, I'm not just surviving.
I'm living.
Nico
The cigar smoke curls toward the ceiling in Pietro's office like a lazy serpent. I stand near the window, arms crossed, watching my brothers and cousin argue about whether we should climb into bed with the Russians.
"The Baganovs aren't like the other Bratva crews we've dealt with." Lorenzo leans forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. "They've got a code. Family first. Sound familiar?"
Pietro sits behind his desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin. He hasn't spoken in ten minutes. Just listening. Calculating.
Bruno wheels himself closer to the conversation, his jaw tight. "Every criminal organization claims to have a code until it's inconvenient."
"Five brothers, two sisters," Lorenzo continues, ignoring Bruno's skepticism. "They protect each other the way we protect each other. Dmitri's the one who reached out. He's offering legitimate business partnerships—construction contracts, shipping routes that don't involve product."
Valentino shifts against the bookshelf. "The European families have worked with Bratva before. When they keep theirword, they keep it absolutely. When they don't..." He shrugs. "Well. We know what happens."
Great. So it's either absolute loyalty or absolute betrayal. No pressure.
"They shot me," I say flatly.
Every head turns toward me.
