Page 97 of Pietro
"I found documents in his desk drawer. Shipping manifests, schedules, names—all information about our operations that he had no business having separate copies of. And a recorder."
My throat tightens at the memory. "I played it and heard him talking to Cian Murphy, planning their next move against us."
Cian Murphy is the Don. Declan was talking directly to him.
''Motherfucker.'' Pietro says.
I shift to look at Pietro's face, needing him to understand. "He was using me the entire time. Every kiss, every promise, every moment we shared—it was all to get close to Connor's operation, to learn our weaknesses."
"What happened when he caught you?" Pietro asks, his voice dangerously soft.
"He came home early. Saw me with the evidence spread out on the floor." I close my eyes, feeling the phantom pressure of hands around my throat. "He didn't even deny it."
Pietro's body tenses beneath mine, but I continue, needing to get it all out.
"He tried to strangle me. Said he'd tell everyone I was in on it, that I'd betrayed my family willingly." My hand unconsciously rises to my throat. "I managed to grab a crystal lamp base and hit him with it. When he reached for his gun, I ran."
I take a shuddering breath. "I called Connor. I was lucky to have my phone in my pocket. I felt lucky until I called him. Told him everything—about Declan's betrayal, about him trying to kill me. And do you know what he said?"
Pietro's eyes are fixed on mine, dark with rage.
"He said I should have known better. That I'd brought Declan into their lives, into their business. That it was my mess to clean up." The words still cut like glass. "My own father abandoned me when I needed him most."
Pietro's hand cups my face, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn't realize had fallen.
"After that, I called Finn. He told me to destroy my phone and meet him. He created the Nora Kelly identity, sent a man who helped me get to Chicago." I laugh bitterly. "I had no idea I was going to walk into a war between my family and yours. I just needed somewhere to hide."
"And you had no contact with Connor after that?" Pietro asks.
I shake my head. "None. I wanted nothing to do with him. With any of it." I meet his gaze directly. "I never betrayed you, Pietro. I never gave anyone information about your shipments or your business. I swear it."
Pietro studies my face for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he pulls me closer, pressing his lips to my forehead.
"I believe you," he says simply, and those three words lift a weight I didn't know I was carrying.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
NORA
Iwake to two things at once: the solid wall of a man’s chest under my cheek, and a deep, pulsing ache between my legs.
Pietro.
His arm is a heavy bar across my waist, caging me. Last night wasn't a dream. The soreness in my body is a raw, physical reminder of how he took me, claimed me, put me back together only to leave me wondering if I'm more broken than before.
His breathing shifts, no longer the steady rhythm of sleep. The arm around me tightens fractionally before relaxing.
"You're awake." His voice rumbles through his chest, rough with morning.
I don't move. Can't decide if I want to burrow deeper into his warmth or pull away entirely. "What time is it?"
"Early. Seven, maybe."
Pietro shifts, propping himself on one elbow to look down at me.
"Nora." His voice is a low rumble that vibrates through my bones. "I need to say something."
I stay still, watching the war on his face. A muscle leaps in his jaw. His eyes, usually so certain, are clouded with something that looks like self-loathing.
