She saw the monster. She saw me strangle a man with my bare hands, watched me wade through carnage without hesitation. And she still said yes.
That's not innocence. That's complicity.
And I'll take it. I'll take every dark corner of her soul that chose me, that chose this, that looked at what I am and decided to stay anyway.
The war is coming. The Bratva will retaliate. The Commission might demand answers. There will be violence and consequences.
But she'll heal. And when she does, she'll wear my ring. She'll have my name. She'll be mine in every way that matters.
And I'll burn the world down before I let anyone take that from me.
The next morning, I wake before dawn. Francesca is still asleep, curled against me. My shoulder throbs but the pain is manageable.
I slide out of bed carefully, pull on my jeans. In the kitchen, I make coffee and check my phone. Messages from Sal, updates from our guys on the street. The NYPD is all over where the warehouse used to stand, shifting through the ashes. No leads yet. Good.
Another message from Don Marco:
Today. Social club. Noon. Not a request.
I text back:
I'll be there.
I pour coffee and carry it back to the bedroom. Francesca is awake, sitting up against the headboard.
"Morning," I say, handing her a cup.
"Morning." She wraps her hands around the warmth. "You're going somewhere."
"Don Marco wants to see me. Noon."
"About yesterday."
"Yeah."
She nods. "What happens now? With us, I mean. We can't stay here forever."
"No." I sit on the edge of the bed. "I've got one of Don Marco's real estate guys looking at secure buildings. High floors, controlled access, proper security. Better than the old penthouse."
"When do I get to see it?"
"When I've found the right one." I reach for her hand, thread my fingers through hers. "You'll like it. I know what you need."
Her lips quirk. "Do you."
"Yes." I squeeze her hand. "And if you don't like it, you'll tell me. And I'll make adjustments. But we're not living in unsafe places anymore, Francesca. Not after yesterday."
"So you're making decisions for both of us."
"I'm keeping you alive." I lean in, my voice dropping. "You want a say? Fine. Tell me what you need. But the security is non-negotiable. The location is mine to choose. The building has to meet my standards."
"Your standards."
"Our enemies know about you now. That warehouse proved they'll use you to get to me." I cup her face with my free hand. "So yes. My standards. I don't care if you love the place or just tolerate it—you're going to be safe. That's the only thing that matters."
She holds my gaze for a long moment. "Okay."
"Okay?"
