Page 129 of Seeking Shadows

No matter how beautiful, scary, or intimidating someone else was.

She was mine, and no one would take her from me.

Still, the threats, the stance, the murderous coldness—it wasn’t about Mia.

It was about what would happen to Laura if something happened to Mia.

I could sympathize with that.

Pietro held my gaze for a second longer, then finally stepped aside.

Mia, still in my arms, yawned, lifting her head slightly. "Zane..." Her voice was sleepy, almost childlike.

My chest tightened.

"Shh, go back to sleep."

She obeyed without question, trusting me blindly to take her home.

Like I said, as much as I hated Pietro Barone and his obsession with murder, I understood exactly why he was willing to defy the logic of reality to protect Mia.

She was everything.

And I love her… as easy as breathing.

CHAPTER 22

MIA

I swear to God, if I have to attend one more mafia event, I might just gouge my eyes out.

At least then, I wouldn’t have to witness so much filth. The number of men I recognize from frequenting the brothel—who now sit beside their wives, smiling like they deserve an ounce of respect—makes me sick.

But this time, I couldn’t escape. Because, you know… it’s myengagement party.

I watch my father chatting with people, acting like he’s some upstanding guy, but we all know it’s just a matter of time before he disappears with some escortor someonemarried just to keep his reputation intact.Typical.

And Paulina? She’s nowhere to be seen, which is honestly perfect. What’s she doing? Hiding out, plotting her next move, or just too busy being her usual self—completely useless—to even show up and fake a smile for once.

For Zane’s sake, I’m grateful.

This is a “low-key” event for the inner circle only. Not that they actually care about me. These people just need an excuse to drink and do shady business.

I'd love to set this place on fire.

Rich people, expensive dresses, fake smiles, and a bunch of disgusting mobsters who think they own the world. If I blink twice, I’m sure I’ll catch someone getting bribed in the corner—or brokering some illegal deal.

At least there’s food.

And champagne.

“This is boring.”

I turn my head.

Pinocchio leans lazily against the dessert table, looking entirely too comfortable for someone in a room full of criminals.

“Do you want to kill someone?” he asks, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.

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