Page 95 of Of Lies and Shadows

“Not here.”

He holds my gaze for a beat longer, then steps back, gesturing me in with a dramatic flourish. “By all means, Capo.”

I walk in, and Bruno shuts the door behind me, not offering a seat. “If this is about Francesca?—”

“It’s not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You sure? Because I’m pretty confident every breath you take right now has something to do with her.”

I grind my teeth, refusing to rise to the bait. “This is about business.”

Bruno raises a brow. “I’m listening.”

“Francesca told me what you said to her.”

His mouth curves in a half smirk. “So itisabout Francesca.”

Asshole.

“No. It’s about your father.”

His jaw tightens, the shift in his expression subtle but telling. He grinds his teeth too. Two wolves circling.

“What do you want to know?”

“I want to know howyouknow.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he moves to the small counter and grabs a bottle of water before turning back to me.

“Mori is violent. Arrogant. Overconfident. He’s not subtle. Hell, he’s not even particularly clever. But you…” He pauses, tilting his head slightly. “You are. At least when it comes to business.”

I narrow my eyes. A compliment and an insult wrapped in the same breath.

“Why now?” I ask. “Why tell me this now?”

“Because you care about her,” he says plainly. “And because I think, maybe for once, you might make the right call. Instead of being your usual, stubborn, territorial self.”

I laugh, low and mirthless. “You do realize you just described yourself too.”

“Maybe. But I never spit in her face and called it justice.”

Fuck. That lands harder than I want to admit. A blow I wasn’t ready for.

I square my shoulders, trying to shake it off. “I don’t see how you have any right to judge me for that day. You let your sister walk into a lion’s den without blinking. If I were you, I’d ease up on the savior speeches.”

His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t react. “I had no choice. But I gave her a way out. A way to disappear.” His voice drops. “She didn’t take it.”

That catches me off guard. His admission isn’t just a risk—it’s a confession. An act of rebellion. He conspired against Mori. Against the Vescari. In my house.

And I didn’t even know.

“You ever wonder why she didn’t take it?” he adds, stepping toward me. “Because I did. For a long time.”

I clench my jaw. “And now?”

He shrugs with maddening ease. “Now, I think I understand.”

I don’t take the bait. I don’t ask him to explain.

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