Page 123 of Traitor

I smirk. "I sure do."

He takes a step to leave, but then he stops short. Frozen. He looks at me like he's trying to memorize this exact moment, the faint curl of my stupid smirk, the way I hold my chin high in defiance. Something in his eyes flickers. Maybe regret, maybe bitterness. Maybe an ancient sadness so heavy it weighs down every breath he takes. I don't care. I won't let myself care. Not again.

"I'll be gone for a couple of days. Deal with Luca," he finally says, his voice low and thick. As if every syllable is a lead weight dropping between us.

He scans the room one last time, gaze lingering on the battered side door that leads to my half-wild backyard.

"Tank'll be close by," he adds, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone. "But if you need anything, if something happens, call me. Promise me, Temper."

I scoff, rolling my shoulders back, feeling the tension in my spine protest at the memory of all the times I let my guard down for him.

"I don't promise you anything, Bones. I have people I can call. True friends. You're not on that list. You're not even near that list."

He gives the slightest nod, as if he expected that. A self-loathing acceptance. He turns to leave, his steps quiet. I can sense the quiet fury in him, like a caged beast scratching at steel bars.

He hesitates near the doorway, turning to look at me over his shoulder. For a heartbeat, our eyes lock again — blue-grey storm meeting the wildfire in mine — and I can practically feel the words he wants to say. Apologies, pleas, regrets. Or confessions that he's still in love with the ghost of who I used to be. That he's chained himself to the memory of a woman he destroyed. But I don't give him the chance. I just arch a brow, daring him to speak, daring him to dig his hole any deeper.

He swallows that moment. He knows I won't accept his bullshit words.

Bones

"She's beautiful. Like a true ballerina on ice," I murmur, lowering myself into the seat next to Luca. My voice is almost reverent, but it's not about admiration. It's about calculation. Control. Every move deliberate. Every word a sharpened knife waiting to be used.

I watch the woman twirl on the ice, her movements sharp and fluid, the blades on her feet cutting clean lines into the frozen surface. She's a contradiction. Delicate and deadly.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing here?" Luca grits out, not even looking at me yet.

"It's simple." I keep my voice level, almost bored. "You come after my woman, I come after yours." I lean back in my chair, stretching out, making myself comfortable. Like a king overseeing the battlefield. "This is the only warning you'll ever get, Romano. I put a bullet through her head while you watch, then I put one between your eyes and burn your body to ash."

He stills. A tightness ripples through his shoulders, his hands flexing into fists. That's the thing about men like us. We don't fear death, we expect it. But there's a difference between expecting death for yourself and seeing it meet someone you love.

His breathing is rough when he finally speaks. "I know I was wrong to go to Elyna," he admits, voice low, controlled. Like he's forcing the words through barbed wire. "But I need that deal to keep going, Bones," he whispers, like he's confessing a sin to a priest.

I study him, really look at him. The fine Italian suit is flawless, not a single crease, not a single hair out of place. But underneath? The man is unraveling. Fracturing from the inside out.

And then, he drops the fucking bomb.

"Just so you know I'm serious — because I would never fucking admit this to anyone — I'm getting desperate pretty fucking fast. I need out of the Famiglia." He exhales sharply, jaw clenched, eyes darker than I've ever seen them. Raw. Hollow. "And the MC — your MC — is my only shot."

I blink. Slowly. Processing.

Then I sigh. Because this is the stupidest fucking plan I've ever heard.

"You may want that," I say, voice edged with amusement, "but Arcangelo will never agree to it. And you fucking know it. You can't just transfer to the MC like a fucking exchange student. It's a brainless plan, Romano."

His jaw locks, but he doesn't back down. Desperation makes men fearless.

"He would agree," he insists. "For the chance at bigger deals. With you. It was the whole point of Francesca's marriage. To strengthen the ties between us. He wanted to expand our operations, but you were whining too much about not finding your woman and weren't interested in anything else." His tone sharpens, accusing. "He accepted your request to break the original deal because he thinks he can make you reconsider eventually."

I let out a dark chuckle. That arrogant bastard.

"Giving up info on your own brother just like that, huh?" I tilt my head, watching him like a predator sizing up his prey. "Are you turning into a fucking snitch?"

His nostrils flare. His fingers twitch, curling into the edge of the table. Yeah, that touched a nerve.

"I. Need. Out. Bones." His voice drops lower. "What do you want in return for your help? If you agree to take me in, to strengthen the ties with the famiglia, that's already half the battle won. I'll be able to negotiate easier with Arcangelo. He'll agree to let me go."

I recognize that look in his eyes.

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