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“Done. What exactly do you want to know?”
“Leo,” Enzo warned.
“You didn’t interfere, snap, or say anything to make matters worse. Why?”
“Did you want me to?” Leo skidded my question.
“Why?” I asked again.
Leo shrugged. “Tomorrow is a day to celebrate.”
My wedding?
I laughed. Leo gave two shits for it, even though it was meant to bring peace between both families and resolve his fuck up. It was a bad joke, but his features didn’t change. They were calm and casual.
“You are serious,” I murmured.
His head rose, and under the pendant light, the long scar that traveled through his brow was clear for me to see.
“Like the dead.”
And I believed him.
My head jerked to Enzo, who shared Leo’s seriousness.
“Fine, all I ask is for you both to keep this dinner and your stay civil.”
“That’s the plan,” Enzo chimed, but Leo’s lips swayed to the corner.
“Leo?” I asked.
“Mia sorella.”My sister. “I wouldn’t do anything to ruin tomorrow. Ofthatyou can trust.”
What I didn’t trust was his smile.
LUCCA
The door shutbehind me as my muscles twitched in rage. I shook my shoulders, finding my brothers near and itching for news, but all I could think of was the woman I’d left behind with the wolves.
“Is—” Arlo began, but I raised my hand to cut him off.
I picked up the glass I’d left by the entry table and pointed at Viktor, then to the corner of the door.
The silent order was given.Stay behind and be alert for her.
It had taken a lot to walk deeper into the home instead of staying where I’d placed Viktor. But Katia needed me to respect her wishes in front of them. I trusted her judgment and her need for time alone with the two men she shared blood with.
The smell of basil and freshly baked bread thickened the further I walked. With each footfall, I struggled to quiet the stress and anger Mario had built inside.
He showed up on my doorstep to lay out our differences. But they were never blurred, not for a minute.
The truth was, I would kill her father.
I knew this the day I turned sixteen after Salvatore spoke to me like a man. While I didn’t blow out a candle, I’d promised to see it through.
Mario and my father started a war after a bad deal was made and promises were broken. A few years later, my father turned up missing, and so did my mother and me. But we weren’t dead, no. We ran as my mother feared my fate would be the same as my father’s.
She’d never explained to me who I was and why she’d always looked over her shoulder. She never explained why her suitcase hid a gun and spare bullets. Or why she needed to teach me how to shoot a gun and fight, when the other boys my age played outside ball or punched their fingers into rectangular video game systems.
