Page 119 of Pietro
"That's right, Sartori." Declan's backing toward his vehicle now, papers tucked safely in his jacket. "Keep that famous temper in check. Wouldn't want things to get... messy."
He pauses at the car door. "Give my regards to Connor when you see him, princess. Tell him his little girl's all grown up. Making her own choices." His laugh echoes off the warehouse walls. "Even if they're the wrong ones."
The sedan door closes with a soft thud. The engines start, a low rumble that vibrates through the concrete. I watch the taillights disappear into the darkness, memorizing the license plates even though I already know them.
"Breathe." Lorenzo's voice again, steady and calm. "Just breathe."
But I can't. Not with Nora standing there, shoulders rigid, hands clenched into fists at her sides. Not with Tony still sobbing over Michael, the boy clinging to his grandfather like he might disappear.
"Positions, report." Liam's voice crackles through the earpiece.
"Clear north."
"Clear south."
"Loading dock clear."
"They're gone."
Gone. For now. But Declan's words hang in the air like poison gas.We'll talk soon, love.
Over my dead body.
"Let's move." I force myself to turn away from where the cars vanished. "Tony, get Michael to the car. Lorenzo, take point."
Nico appears from the shadows, weapon still drawn. "That went better than expected."
"Did it?" My voice comes out rougher than intended.
We move as a unit back through the warehouse district. Tony carries Michael now, the boy's face buried in his grandfather's neck. Nora walks beside me, silent. Too silent.
"He's wrong." The words escape before I can stop them.
She doesn't respond, doesn't even look at me. Just keeps walking, one foot in front of the other, like she's on autopilot.
"Nora—"
"Not here." Her voice is barely a whisper. "Please. Not here."
Thepleasestops me cold. She never pleads unless I'm making her come. Never shows that kind of vulnerability. But right now, in the darkness between abandoned buildings, she's barely holding herself together.
And it's my fault. I brought her here. Put her in front of him. Let him say those things to her.
The cars come into view, Liam already behind the wheel of the lead vehicle, engine running.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
NORA
The spreadsheet blurs on my monitor. Numbers that should make sense swim together like they're written in a foreign language. I blink hard, forcing myself to focus on the Morrison shipment discrepancies, but my mind keeps sliding back to last night.
To Declan's face in the warehouse shadows. That smile that once made me feel safe now twisted into something monstrous.
My fingers hover over the keyboard, trembling slightly. I press them flat against the desk, willing them to stop. I'm in Pietro's office—my office—of the Sartori building. Bulletproof glass surrounds me. Security guards patrol every entrance. I'm safe.
But I can still feel Declan's hands around my throat from three months ago. Still hear his voice calling memo stórlike he has any right to Irish endearments after what he did.
The door to Pietro's inner office slams open, making me jump.
