Page 9 of Knot Like Other Girls

Savva steps forward, twirling something between his fingers. I realize it's a cufflink, probably snatched from one of our attackers. "Nothing concrete, but the cufflinks are interesting. Custom made, with a very specific insignia. I'd bet my Rembrandt that these gentlemen are connected to the Biondi family."

Roman's jaw clenches. The Biondis are Caruso's main rivals, a fact that was conspicuously absent from our initial briefing. "Anything else?"

Cole speaks up, his voice low and gravelly. "Overheard some chatter as we were leaving. Sounds like this was just a warning shot. They're planning something bigger."

"Fantastic," I mutter. "Because this evening wasn't exciting enough already."

Roman ignores my sarcasm, his mind already racing through scenarios and contingencies. "Alright. Savva, I want you to dig deeper into that cufflink lead. Cole, start mapping out potential attack vectors. Liam, beef up our perimeter security. Troy, you're with me. We need to have a chat with our client about the information he conveniently forgot to share."

As the others move to their tasks, I fall in step beside Roman. "You think Caruso knew this was coming?"

Roman's expression is thunderous. "Oh, I'm sure of it. The question is, what else isn't he telling us?"

I nod, a grim smile tugging at my lips. "Well, boss, looks like our little vacation in Sicily just got a lot more interesting."

Roman doesn't smile back.

But then again, he never does.

CHAPTER 3

ROMAN

Iwatch Troy's retreating back as he heads off to debrief Caruso, his easy gait belying the tension I know he's carrying. My own muscles are coiled tight, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Old habits die hard, especially when they've kept you alive through hell.

The safe house feels too small suddenly, the walls closing in. I need air, need to think. With a grunt to Cole, who's lurking in the shadows like some damn specter, I step out onto the balcony.

The Sicilian night wraps around me, warm and heavy with the scent of jasmine. In the distance, I can hear the faint lapping of waves against the shore. It's peaceful. Deceptively so.

I grip the railing, my knuckles turning white. This job was supposed to be easy. A cakewalk. Babysit some rich asshole at his fancy parties, maybe rough up a paparazzo or two. Instead, we're knee-deep in what's shaping up to be a full-blown mafia war.

We're not equipped for this. Not anymore.

The thought hits me like a punch to the gut, leaving me winded. We're soldiers, trained for combat in war zones, not for navigating the murky waters of organized crime. We're out ofour depth here, and if I'm not careful, I'm going to get my men killed.

My pack.

The word echoes in my mind, heavy with responsibility. They're more than just a team. They're my family, the only one I've got left. And I've led them into this mess.

I close my eyes, trying to push back the memories that threaten to surface. The smell of burning flesh. The groans of the dying. The weight of dog tags in my hand, belonging to men who'll never go home.

No. Not again. I won't lose anyone else.

A soft footstep behind me breaks through my spiraling thoughts. I don't need to turn to know it's Savva. The others, they announce their presence with heavy footfalls or clearing throats.

But Savva?

He moves like a ghost when he wants to.

"Penny for your thoughts, fearless leader?" His voice is light, teasing, but I can hear the undercurrent of concern.

I don't answer immediately, my eyes fixed on the distant horizon. Savva doesn't push, just leans against the railing beside me, his presence a silent offer of support.

Finally, I speak, my voice low and rough. "We're in over our heads, Savva."

He hums noncommittally. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"This is different," I growl, frustration seeping into my tone. "We're not equipped for this kind of operation. We're soldiers, not... whatever the hell this is."

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