“I love my spinal column unbroken. Let go.”
“No,” Luca says, all teeth. “Make me.”
Kai doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. Just sighs like a man trapped in purgatory and keeps him there. Cradling him like an expensive problem. The only reason Luca’s not on the floor is because Kai’s hand hasn’t let go. Which is just another way to say devotion around here.
Across the room, Misha’s juggling beer cans for some reason. Shirtless. Laughing like thunder. Finn’s yelling encouragement while curled up on Vlad’s back like a cape made of chaos. “DO IT WITH FIRE, YOU COWARD!” he howls. “FIRE OR YOU’RE NOT A MAN!”
“I am not lighting beer on fire,” Misha growls.
“You’re afraid,” Finn cackles, smacking the side of his head like a war drum.
“Afraid you’ll piss yourself if I do.”
“Joke’s on you—I already did!”
Bishop slams a tray down in the middle of the table and screams “WHO WANTS TO BURN THEIR THROAT FOR LOVE?”
And that’s when Ezio appears. He steps through the haze like he’s still figuring out what kind of man he’s supposed to be now that nobody’s watching him like a crown. His jaw’s tense. His mouth’s tight. But his hands aren’t empty. He’s holding a tray. Shots. Crystal clean. Liquid gold. He doesn’t speak right away. Just sets them down near the main table where I’m sprawled out across Rafe’s lap, drunk on victory and violence and maybe him, a little.
“Peace offering,” Ezio says, voice raw. “For last night.”
No one moves.
Then Finn yells, “FUCK YES, I FORGIVE YOU IF IT’S TEQUILA!” and snatches one before anyone else can stop him. He downs it like a lunatic and smashes the empty glass on the floor like he’s celebrating war.
Luca reaches for two. “One for me, one for my spine support system,” he says, shoving one into Kai’s hand.
“I’m a doctor,” Kai mutters. Then drinks it anyway.
Vlad doesn’t blink. Just downs his shot, licks the rim, and says, “Tastes like shame.”
Bishop grabs his and pours it down his shirt instead. “Close enough.”
And just like that, nobody hesitates. Nobody guards their throat. Nobody looks over their shoulder. Ezio offers poison and we drink like it’s medicine, because this team? We earn forgiveness the same way we earn scars—loud, drunk, and too fucked up to ask for it twice.
I take my shot last. Let the glass burn between my fingers before I throw it back. It hits my tongue like apology and slides down like absolution. When I look at Ezio, he’s already turned away, heading back to his lonely little corner.
Luca’s voice cuts through the buzz like glitter through a bruise—sharp, sparkling, and impossible to ignore. “C’mon, Reaver,” he sings, already pulling me up by the wrist before I realize my spine detached itself from Rafe’s lap. “You conquered a rink last night. Don’t tell me you’re too sore to move.”
“I’m too famous to move,” I slur, half-laughing, already sliding off the table, letting my knees bend into it because the floor feels like it’s getting further away. “Make the peasants come to me.”
“I am coming to you,” Luca chirps, spinning me into him with a laugh that’s too bright for how feral his eyes still are. He’s all sharp edges and flirty venom, but he moves soft now—like he’s dancing for ghosts, not syndicates.
The music's slowed to something dirty and slow. Somebody must’ve queued it on purpose. Vlad probably. Bastard’s got good taste.
Luca’s hands slide around my waist and we start to sway. Lazy. Loose. His grin crooked. My pulse crawling out of rhythm.
“You’re such a little tease,” he murmurs into my ear, grinding against me just to be annoying. “No wonder Rafe walks around like a man who hasn’t slept since the Cold War.”
I smirk. “You jealous?”
“Not of him,” Luca breathes, dragging a nail down my spine. “Of you. He never held me like that.”
I let my head tip back and laugh, a low, syrupy sound that tastes more like heat than humor. “He could. But you’d cry.”
From across the room, I catch Rafe and Kai sharing the exact same moment—the same unimpressed expression, two pairs of eyes rolling so hard it could trigger a small earthquake. I raise my glass in salute, grin wide with lips parted, and purr, “Daddy disapproves.”
“Which one?” Luca whispers beside me.
