“I think men losing money become creative.”
A small smile pulls at his mouth before disappearing again. “Interesting theory.”
My eyes stay locked on his. “You’re denying involvement?”
“I’m denying interest.” He lifts the whiskey glass again. “I don’t wage war by harassing volunteers and chasing dogs around parking lots.”
The denial feels too polished, too prepared. And men like Enzo rarely deny the parts they actually consider important.
Rage moves through me instantly at the lie, hot enough that I feel my pulse hammering beneath the collar of my shirt even while my expression remains unchanged. Years inside this world taught me how to sit still while violence builds beneath my skin.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to understand pressure.” His fingers rotate the whiskey glass once against the tabletop. “You shut down routes tied to people with long memories. Reactions happen.”
Thunder rolls outside. Enzo studies me carefully for another minute before speaking again. “You know what surprised me?”
I say nothing.
“The woman.”
Every muscle in my body tightens immediately.
He remains calm. “She reacted quickly yesterday. Most civilians panic once situations become chaotic.” His eyes don’t leave mine. “Magnolia Hayes didn’t.”
The atmosphere in the room changes the second he says her name. Nothing changes outwardly, yet tension coils beneath the polished conversation. Viktor straightens near the windows, and Luka’s attention narrows beside me.
“She has no involvement in this.”
“Not directly.” Enzo tilts his head. “But people close to powerful men rarely stay untouched by the fallout surrounding them.”
My fingers curl slowly against the leather armrest beneath the table.
Enzo continues smoothly before anyone interrupts. “Savannah is beautiful. Quiet. Predictable. Women like her don’t belong anywhere near conflicts between organizations like ours.”
I stare at him without blinking. “You’re threatening her.”
“No.” Another small smile touches his mouth. “I’m acknowledging reality.”
The image of Maggie standing outside the shelter yesterday slams into my head hard enough to make my back teeth clench. Her braid had already started falling apart while anger andfear burned inside those hazel-green eyes, even while frightened volunteers and barking dogs created chaos in every direction around her. That image nearly destroys the last restraint I still possess.
“You made a mistake,” I tell him quietly.
His brow lifts. “Did I?”
“You think mentioning her gives you leverage.” My voice lowers another degree. “What it actually gives you is a problem you’re not prepared for.”
Amusement sinks deeper into his expression. He wanted a reaction, confirmation, proof that Magnolia Hayes matters enough to reach beneath my composure. And I just handed it to him.
The realization detonates through my chest half a second before fury finally tears through the restraint I’ve maintained since this meeting began.
My chair slams backward across the floor as I surge across the table. Crystal crashes sideways while the table groans violently beneath the impact of Enzo’s body when I seize him by the throat and drag him over the polished surface.
His men draw their weapons. Mine do the same.
The room erupts into pandemonium so quickly that the sound of the rain disappears beneath the scrape of chairs and the click of guns being aimed.
I slam Enzo flat against the table and press the knife from inside my jacket beneath his jaw.
