I duck under his arm and walk out of the kitchen. I keep my spine straight, refusing to let him see the heavy tremor shaking my hands. I march into the bedroom and climb into the center of his bed. I pull the quilt up to my chin.
The sound of the shower turning on echoes down the hall a moment later.
I lie in the dark, staring at the ceiling. The anger still simmers, but the panic is gone. I know what he is. I know what his family is. I know the stakes. I have every reason to be terrified, but as the smell of coffee drifts into the bedroom, fighting the scent of cordite, I feel something different.
I feel anchored.
The water shuts off. Footsteps echo on the hardwood. The bedroom door opens. Nico steps in, a towel wrapped low around his waist, tattoos stark against his clean skin. He walks to the edge of the bed. He doesn't ask for permission. He pulls the quilt back, slides into the sheets, and drags me backward against his solid chest.
His arm wraps around my waist, locking me into place. He buries his face in my hair, inhaling deeply.
"Sleep," he commands softly.
I close my eyes. The war is waiting just outside the reinforced door, but in here, in the dark, the soldier is finally at rest.
The silence holds for hours.
At 7:15 AM, the encrypted phone on the nightstand cracks the silence. A harsh, repeating alarm tone blares through the room. It is a priority ping.
Nico goes from deep sleep to lethal alertness. He lunges across me, grabbing the phone. He stares at the glowing screen. The muscles in his back go rigid. The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees.
"What is it?" I ask, sitting up, clutching the quilt.
Nico turns his head slowly. The possessiveness in his eyes is eclipsed by cold murder.
"The pattern Vincenzo found," Nico says, his voice devoid of all humanity. “The compromised access inside my family’s compound.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, my stomach dropping.
"They didn’t just leak routes." Nico stands up, ignoring his nakedness as he moves toward the closet to grab fresh gear. "The armory next to your clinic wasn’t their only play. It was bait. A coordinated distraction."
He pulls a fresh tactical shirt over his head. The tattoos disappear beneath the black fabric.
"A distraction from what?" I demand, throwing the covers off.
Nico turns back to me. The gold watch gleams as he racks the slide of his handgun.
"The Costa compound perimeter has just been breached."
8
NICO
Blood roars in my ears.The encrypted ping from Vincenzo pulses on the war room screen, a harsh red strobe cutting through the shadows of the South Side safehouse. The gates of the compound. My family. The Bellantis are at my front door.
Priya stands three feet away. Her eyes lock onto the flashing screen. She doesn't scream. She doesn't panic. She just looks at me. The blanket hangs around her shoulders. My scent still clings to her skin.
I am being torn in two. The soldier bred since boyhood to protect the Costa name is screaming to get in the truck. To shed blood on the limestone. To kill every threat that breathes near my brothers. But the man. The possessive thing that woke up the second I crossed the street to her. That man is chaining my boots to the floor. I can’t leave her. I won’t leave her unprotected.
"Go." Her voice is steady. Warm cardamom and jasmine cutting through the scent of old blood and gun oil.
I step into her space. I crowd her against the edge of the metal desk. My hands grip her hips. Bruising. Claiming. She doesn't flinch. She tips her chin up. Defiant. Beautiful.
Mine.
"I’m locking this building down." My voice is flat steel. "Three manual deadbolts. The electronic lock. The reinforced steel plates. Nobody gets in."
"I understand."
