Page 26 of Unholy Night
As we finally collapse into bed, exhausted and sated. The room smells like sex and gunpowder, blood and us. My pussystill throbs from the intensity of it all, and I can feel his release leaking out of me, marking me as his even in this.
"Twenty bodies," I murmur against his skin. "What will the police think?"
"There won't be any bodies by dawn. Like it never happened."
"Except it did. I did." I trace patterns around the tattoos on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady under my palm. "I crossed every line today."
"Regrets?"
I think about it, really consider what I've done, what I've become. The woman who walked into this cabin five days ago would be horrified. But that woman never felt this alive, this powerful, this complete. That woman died today, buried under six bodies in the snow. What rises from her ashes is something stronger, darker, more honest about what justice really looks like.
"My father wanted the guilty punished," I say, pulling him down for a fierce kiss. "Today I punished six guilty men. They wanted to kill you. Torture me, probably. That's the only justice that matters now. So no," I answer. "No regrets. I'd do it all again."
9 - Tomas
Winter air cuts through the broken windows from yesterday’s battle, making the cabin feel like a tomb wrapped in ice. It’s been hours since the fight ended, since we dragged Leo inside, but we haven’t dealt with the bodies yet. Twenty Santos soldiers frozen in our yard, their blood mixing with snow. All because Leonardo couldn’t control his temper, couldn’t walk away from a fight that wasn’t worth winning.
The copper scent of blood coats my throat with every breath. His, mine, theirs from the massacre. It's soaked so deep into the floorboards that we'll never get it out.
"You're going to tear your scabs before they can even form," Natalie says, voice steady despite the tension crackling through the air.
Leo laughs, sharp and bitter. The sound cuts off in a wince he tries to hide. "What do you care? One less Rosetti to hunt, right?"
Natalie moves forward with fresh bandages. "Your wound needs…"
"I said I'm fine." But he's swaying slightly, sweat beading his forehead despite the cold. The leg wound from yesterday is seeping through its bandage too.
"Sit," she orders, using the same voice that probably commanded courtrooms. "Let me fix this before you pass out and become completely useless."
Leonardo's laugh has teeth. "You hear that, Tomas? She thinks she can fix things. The woman who's been hunting usthinks she can just bandage our wounds and make everything better."
But he sits, probably because standing is getting harder. I watch him watch her, see the calculation in his eyes even through the pain haze. He's planning something. Testing boundaries.
"Your hands are soft," he says as she works, voice dropping to that dangerous register I remember from interrogations. "Never held a gun before yesterday, right? Never watched someone bleed out? But here you are, playing nurse to the enemy."
She doesn't flinch. "I'm trying to help."
"Help?" His voice drops further, and his hand twitches toward where his weapon would be if he could reach it. "You want to help? Leave. Walk out that door and never… fuck…" He has to stop as she pulls away the last bandage, revealing the ugly wound beneath.
"Leo," I warn. My hand moves to my gun. Old habit. The one that keeps you breathing.
"What? I'm just being honest. Something we used to value in this family." He tries to lean forward but can't quite manage it with both wounds limiting his movement. "She doesn't belong here, Tomas. She doesn't understand what we are."
"Maybe not," Natalie says, tipping a glass of fresh water over the wound to clean it. "But I understand enough."
"Do you? Do you understand that Tomas has killed more men than you've ever prosecuted? That he's washed blood off his hands in this very sink? That choosing you means betraying everything we've built?"
She meets his eyes directly. "I understand you're hurt and angry. I understand you want someone to blame for how wrong everything went yesterday. And I understand the difference between violence that is necessary and violence that is justplain cruel." Her voice stays calm, clinical. "Which one are you, Leonardo?"
The question stops him cold. For a moment, something flickers across his face. Surprise, maybe even respect. Then his expression hardens again, but I catch the way his jaw clenches against pain he won't admit to.
"You really want to know what I am?" He tries to lean forward but his body betrays him, leg wound making him gasp. "I'm the one who pulled the trigger on Pinky Santos. Three bullets, right in the heart, while he begged for his mother. I'm the one who started this war. And I'm the one who's going to finish it, with or without my cousin's help."
"You're the one who lost control," I say quietly. "And now you want me to choose between cleaning up your mess or keeping her safe."
"I want you to remember who you are!" Leo explodes, trying to stand. The movement tears something in his leg wound, fresh blood soaking through. "We're family, Tomas! Blood! You don't throw that away for some woman who stumbled into our world by accident!"
"Accident?" Natalie's hands still on the bandage she's applying to his shoulder. "I spent months tracking your family. I knew exactly where I was going when I drove up this mountain."
