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Make us good… The words stick and I can use them.

She’s right that she’s not wanted, but that’s only because according to what the underworld knows, Harriet Federici died that night with everyone else in her family. Hazel’s just a lass now caught up in something else. A shit show of my making.

Something else I failed to protect her from.

But I can still save her with this marriage.

And I can make us good, at least a little bit.

“We are the mafia,” I say, my voice dropping. “And I can protect you.”

“No.” Her lips pull into a tight line. “I don’t want your kind of help. I’m not marrying anyone. I’ll handle Salvatore.”

She sounds fierce, like nothing touches her.

But her eyes…

Steel, fear, anger, accusation. All of it swirling in the depths.

She’s scared of Salvatore. Of the hit being placed on her.

But I think she’s more scared of me.

Worse than that, she hates me. And fuck me if her eyes don’t dilate just enough to give a sensual twist to whatever the hell this is.

I lean closer, breathing her air, drawing in her fresh scent. “You know what I am? Well, Salvatore’s worse.”

“Torin?” I don’t look at my brother as he speaks from behind me. I keep my gaze on her and that knee-jerk invitation, the compulsive desire there in the black center of her eyes. The one she probably doesn’t even realize glimmers in her hostile gaze.

“If she doesn’t want this, we let her go, and she can face whatever’s waiting,” Callahan says, his voice laced with impatience.

I don’t need to see him to know he’s eating up every moment, fitting the pieces together. As I risk a sidelong glance at his face, I’m not sure he’s far from the truth.

“Hazel,” her uncle says, hot on Cal’s heels, “be reasonable. You can’t face a man like Salvatore. If he puts the hit on you?—”

“Let him. I didn’t kill his brother. And I’m not marrying someone to save myself, especiallythisman.”

With that, Harry shoves me back far enough that she’s able to escape my body cage and stormsout the front door.

I take half a step right before Cal puts a warning hand on my arm.

“Mam suggested we help out,” he says, “on account of her friendship with Anthony’s sister, but if Hazel doesn’t want it…”

“Fuck that. I’m going after her.” I pull my arm free as the uncle steps in.

A sheen of sweat glosses his forehead. “When Elira married, all the power of our family went with her. So I don’t have any connections that can protect her, just you.”

“If,” Cal says again with a slight edge, “she doesn’t want it…”

“It has nothing to do with her wanting it, and everything to do with protecting my niece.” Anthony lets out a shuddering breath. “If that’s through a blood marriage, then that’s what we’ll do. She will come around once she realizes what she’s up against.”

“I think,” Callahan begins, his gaze not on me even though his focus burns in deep, “that it’s up to her.”

Anthony wrings his hands together. “She’s very religious, never has boyfriends, so I believe she’s a virgin, which I know is required for the blood wedding.”

Cal’s muttering a choice number of swear words, and I’m anxious to take off after her. Make sure she’s on the same page as us, whether she wants to be or not.

“We’ll take care of her. Be ready for the wedding,” I say, moving to the door. “Spread the word.”