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I was one of them. I knew it, and Nervosa knew it, too. He looked at me with such devotion in his eyes, and it was seductive. I’d never met someone that cared about me like that before, and I wanted to revel in it, to bask in his need like the warm sun on my skin. He brought me new life and made my plans seem worthwhile.

But it was all an illusion. I was one of them: selfish, monstrous, barbaric. I was willing to do whatever it took to get what I wanted, and it scared me.

I got out of the car and stood with Erin. The shooting was slowing, and I guessed the fighting was coming to an end. She looked steady, though worry creased at her lips and eyes.

“How do you do it?” I asked.

“Trust. Love.” She shrugged.

“Not that. I mean, everything else. How do you handle being an Oligarch?”

She glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “You don’t know me very well, do you?”

I smiled and laughed. “I guess not.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a nice person. You worry too much about right and wrong, and that’s the sort of thinking that will get you killed in our line of work. The only right is power, and the only wrong is weakness. Everything else is irrelevant.”

I opened my mouth to reply, to explain how horrible that sounded—but several men came jogging through the lobby and out the blood-spattered door.

One was Nervosa. I shoved past Palmira, despite her shouted warning, and I ran to meet him. He looked grim, blood-speckled, but otherwise unhurt. I threw myself into his arms and kissed him, tasting sweat and copper on his lips.

He kissed me back and held my hips. His smile was the sweetest thing I’d ever seen and I knew, right in that moment, knew in my heart and my guts, that he was the one.

“Told you I’d come back.”

“I didn’t doubt for a second.”

“Liar.” He kissed me again. “I need to talk to Erin. I’m sorry, but it’s important.” He gently stepped aside and hurried over to her.

I followed, staying close behind.

“What’s going on?” Erin asked, arms crossed.

Nervosa loomed over her, but she matched his size with her intensity. Her stare was disconcerting, like she could see deep inside his brain and could pick it apart with her eyes.

“Silvano’s trucks left already. We were too late.”

“How long ago did they leave?”

“Not long. Five minutes at most.”

“Then they’re still local.” She took out her phone. “I can do something about this.”

“How?” He leaned closer. “My forces are too scattered to find all the trucks. The others are the same.”

“I have people inside the sheriff’s office. I can put out an APB and get the vehicles found and stopped. They won’t make it out of the state.” She held up her phone, shaking it from side to side—but she didn’t make the call.

Silence descended. She waited, watching him.

Nervosa took a deep breath and let it out. “What do you want in return?”

Erin smiled brightly. “Nothing too much, don’t worry.”

“We’re wasting time.”

“I want this factory. It’s a nice facility.”

“It’s covered in blood and guts.”

“Nothing a little disinfectant won’t cure. I want this place, Nervosa.”

“What will you do with it?”

“Don’t worry about that. I won’t make pain pills, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He glared at her for five agonizing seconds. “It’s not mine to give.”

“Pull strings. Make it happen.” She waved the phone again. “Time’s wasting.”

“All right, you can have the factory.”

“Lovely. I’ll make the call.” She tapped the screen and held the phone up to her ear. She walked off, talking rapidly to whoever picked up at the other end.

Nervosa watched her go, his eyes haunted.

“What the hell was that? Why would she want a factory?”

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “But I feel like I just invited a monster to live under my bed.”

I followed his gaze and watched Erin, smiling brightly, talking animatedly and gesturing in the air. She seemed to nice and pretty and kind—but lurking beneath that was a killer.

I understood what my brother saw in her.

I slipped my hand into Nervosa’s. He turned and hugged me against him, leaning his head down to kiss my cheek and neck.

“Is it over?” I asked quietly as more men filtered out of the factory, some of them with their hands above their heads.

“For now.”

“Silvano?”

“Alive. Griffin and Liam will decide what to do with him. I don’t want any part in it.”

“What if they let him go?”

He shook his head. “They won’t.”

I leaned against his chest. He was so solid, so big, and I couldn’t imagine anything hurting him—or anything hurting me while he was around.

“Where does that leave this then?”

“The war’s not happening. If Erin’s people can find those trucks and stop the shipments, it’s all over. Silvano’s finished either way. The threat’s neutralized.”

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