There’s a fine line between chaos and choice.What we are planning was not heat-of-the-moment violence.
Our kind of violence was selected.Measured.Personal.
Men like Vilevski don’t stop.They don’t bargain.They don’t step back unless something forces them to—and even then, they don’t stay down.
They come back.Unless you end it properly.So we would.
To protect our family and preserve our bloodline.To uphold the rule that sat at the core of everything the Cavalho name was built on—you do not come for one of ours and expect to walk away.
This wasn’t just about eliminating a threat.It was about making an example.A message that would carry far beyond one man’s death.
We protect our own.Always.
We defend what is ours—until our last breath.
And if you’re foolish enough to test that—you better be ready to face the full force of who we are.
We only got one shot at him, and now we were going to take it.
I wanted to make some sort of smart-ass comment about how he looked better in a dress.It was right there on the tip of my tongue.But the second I saw his face, I swallowed it.
Archie wasn’t embarrassed.He wasn’t uncomfortable.He looked… offended.Like the world had personally overstepped by putting him in something this absurd—and it was going to pay for it.
That alone should’ve been enough to keep me quiet.But a laugh slipped out anyway.Soft.Controlled.Almost polite.
I turned away quickly, pressing my hand over my mouth, shoulders tightening as I forced it down before it could get any louder.
Because this wasn’t funny.Not when the man in front of me looked like he could still break someone in half without wrinkling the fabric of his dress.
“This is a mistake,” Archie muttered, his voice low, edged, as he stared at his reflection in the mirror.
Izzy snorted beside me, completely unbothered as she adjusted the wig on his head.
“Now,” she said, tugging it into place with zero regard for his mood, “you need to check your attitude, Archie.Remember why you’re doing this.Stand still.”
“I am standing still.”
“You’re brooding.”
“I amnotbrooding.”
“You’re radiating homicide,” she shot back.“It’s throwing off the look I’m aiming for.”
“And what look would that be?”he said flatly, like the word itself was invalid.
I risked turning back, but that proved to be a big mistake.Izzy stepped away from him, hands on her hips as she assessed her work.
Archie stood there—tall, broad, carved like he was built for war and simply dropped into the wrong setting.The dress clung to him in all the wrong ways.Or maybe the right ones, depending on how you looked at it.
It didn’t make him look soft.It made him look like he was pretending to be.
A dangerous man wearing a disguise just convincing enough to get close.
The slit of the dress shifted as he moved, exposing muscle that didn’t belong in anything designed for elegance.His shoulders strained the fabric.His jaw was tight.His eyes—God.His eyes hadn’t changed at all.They were cold.Sharp.Hungry.
I folded my arms, tilting my head as I took him in properly this time.
“Well,” I said slowly, letting my gaze drag over him with deliberate provocation, “if this whole thing doesn’t work out, I think you’ve found your calling.”
