Page 69 of Ruined

We separate, but the tension remains electric.

"Noah," Damiano says, softer now. "I understand. Ten months watching her. Now she's in your home, in your bed. But rushing in half-cocked gets everyone killed—including her."

The truth of his words hits me like ice water. I take a step back, daggering a hand through my hair.

I exhale slowly, forcing my muscles to relax. The rage still burns but I push it down where it belongs—cold and controlled.

"You're right," I admit, the words tasting bitter. "Both of you. I'm not thinking clearly. Ivan will die, though," I say, my voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. "One way or another, I'll make sure of it."

Damiano circles his desk, closing the distance between us. When he speaks his voice carries the weight of his position—the authority that makes men like me follow him into hell.

"Ivan Volkov will die," he agrees. "But on our terms. Without anyone knowing it was us who pulled the trigger."

Enzo crosses his arms. "We can't risk open war with the Russians. Not with the Colombians breathing down our necks about that shipment."

"We find Jessica first," Damiano continues, his voice softening slightly. "We gather intelligence on Ivan's movements. We create a plan that leaves no trail back to us. Then—and only then—we strike."

I nod slowly.

Damiano places a hand on my shoulder. "But Noah, understand this—if it comes down to her or this family, I will choose this family. Every time."

The message is clear. I'm on borrowed time. If I can't find a clean way to eliminate Ivan without risking the Ferettis, Evelyn might still end up as a bargaining chip.

"Understood," I say, though everything in me rebels against the possibility.

Enzo steps forward. "For what it's worth, I hope we find a way that doesn't come to that. The way you look at her..." He shakes his head. "I've never seen you like this before."

"There's a first time for everything," I mutter.

I leave Damiano's office with my jaw clenched so tight I might crack a tooth. The weight of his final warning hangs over me like a guillotine blade. I get it—family first. It's always been that way with the Ferettis. It's why I respect them, why I've killed for them. But now that same loyalty threatens to take Evelyn from me.

I stalk through the mansion's corridors, needing to find her. We're in limbo now—waiting for Alessio and Matteo to turn upsomething useful on Jessica or Ivan's movements. Waiting has never been my strong suit, especially not when every second that passes puts Jessica in more danger.

I check the solarium first, but it's empty. The kitchen too. Finally I follow the sound of soft voices through the east wing toward the family quarters.

I stop dead in the doorway.

Evelyn sits in a rocking chair by the window, sunlight streaming in behind her. In her arms she cradles Damiano's infant daughter. The baby's tiny hand reaches up, grabbing at a strand of Evelyn's hair that's fallen loose.

Something twists in my chest—sharp and unexpected. I've never thought about children. Never imagined a future where I'd have any. In my world family is a weakness, a vulnerability that enemies can exploit.

But watching Evelyn rock that baby, humming something soft under her breath, I suddenly see it—a house somewhere quiet, away from all this. A place with high ceilings where violin music echoes. A place with a nursery. Not just one kid, but several. A fucking dozen of them, all with Evelyn's stormy blue eyes and stubborn chin.

The image hits me like a blunt blow. I want that. I want it with a ferocity that scares the shit out of me.

Evelyn looks up, catching me watching her. Her smile falters slightly, probably reading something in my expression.

"Noah," she says softly, careful not to disturb the now-sleeping infant. "Any news?"

I shake my head, moving into the room. "Alessio and Matteo are working on it. We'll hear something soon."

I approach slowly, looking down at the tiny bundle in her arms. The baby looks peaceful, unaware that she's been born into a world of violence and power struggles.

"You're good with her," I say, my voice surprisingly rough.

Evelyn looks surprised. "Am I? I've never really been around babies before."

"Could've fooled me." I reach down, letting the baby's tiny fingers wrap around one of mine. "Looks natural."

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