Page 8 of His Ruthless Vow

I don't need to spell it out for her. Griffin's debt isn't going away, and Armando isn't known for his patience or mercy. She knows exactly what happens to people who can't pay. And now she knows I'm offering her a way out—at a price.

I turn and walk away, feeling her eyes on my back as I slide into my car. In the rearview mirror, I watch her standing there, unmoving, her silhouette sharp against the streetlight. She's still processing, still weighing her options. Still thinking she might find another way.

She won't.

I never force. I tempt. I create situations where the choices are clear, and the only logical path leads right to me. It's a game I've perfected over the years—one I never lose.

The drive home gives me time to think. Kendra's "Hades" comment replays in my mind. Most people in this city know me as many things—businessman, enforcer, capo. But a god of the underworld? That's new. I roll down my window, letting the cool night air clear my head. She's getting under my skin, and I'm not entirely sure I hate it.

When I pull up to my home, I already hear the commotion inside. The security system beeps as I unlock the door, and I'm immediately greeted by a storm of fur and excitement.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter as Paige, my yellow lab, crashes into my legs with all the grace of a drunk elephant. Her tail whips back and forth with enough force to clear a coffee table, which she's done more than once. Behind her, Penny hangs back, her brown and black fur practically vibrating with anxiety as she waits her turn.

I crouch down, letting Paige assault my face with sloppy kisses while I reach out to scratch Penny under her chin. "Come here, girl. I didn't forget about you."

Penny approaches cautiously, like she always does, her full tail wagging with measured enthusiasm. Where Paige is chaos incarnate, Penny calculates every move. She reminds me of myself in that way.

"At least someone in this house has some fucking dignity," I say, running my hand through her thick fur. She leans into my touch, finally convinced I'm not bringing danger home with me.

Luca's words from last week float through my mind as I watch them. 'Collecting another stray?' he'd asked with that empty grin of his. Like these dogs, he'd implied—another broken thing I was trying to fix.

I smirk to myself as I stand, shrugging off my jacket. Maybe. But Kendra Washington isn't broken. She isn't lost or scared or in need of saving.

This one fights back.

And that's exactly what makes her interesting. She's not afraid of me—or at least, she's determined not to show it. In a world where most people either fear me or try to use me, her defiance is... refreshing.

I move to the kitchen, the dogs trailing behind me. Paige nearly slips on the hardwood in her excitement, banging into the wall with a thud that doesn't even slow her down. This dog has survived purely on luck and my intervention.

"You two eat yet?" I ask, knowing damn well my housekeeper would have fed them hours ago. But their expressions suggest starvation is imminent if I don't immediately remedy the situation.

So I give in. Just like I always do with them. They've always been my exception to my rules.

I fear I've just found another.

5

KENDRA

Ididn't go to Skye's boutique yesterday after I saw Enzo. Instead, I went home, debating what I should do.

I still am now as I go to Rosemary's, our favorite brunch spot. I'm running late—mostly because I got lost in my thoughts and what I agreed to for Griffin—and I know they're all going to be there when I get there.

I push through the door of Rosemary's, the bell announcing my arrival with a cheerful jingle that feels completely at odds with the storm brewing inside me. The familiar scent of cinnamon and coffee wraps around me, but even that comfort can't settle the unease that's been my constant companion since yesterday.

My friends are already seated at our usual corner booth by the window. Jazz notices me first, raising her hand in a wave, her stack of gold bracelets catching the light. Her curls are piled high today, framing her face like a crown.

"Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence," she calls out, but there's no bite to her words. Just the familiar teasing that's been our love language since we met.

I slide into the booth beside Mikayla, who scoots over to make room for me. Her gentle smile is as warm as always, her optimism radiating like a physical force.

"Sorry I'm late," I say, shrugging off my jacket. "Work was a nightmare."

It's a lie. Work was fine. But the truth—that I spent forty-five minutes staring at my closet, wondering what one wears when contemplating a deal with the devil—isn't something I'm ready to share.

"We ordered you a mimosa." Maria slides a glass toward me, her brown eyes kind. "You look like you need it."

I take a generous sip, letting the cold, bubbly sweetness wash down my throat. "God bless you."

---