The trap has been sprung. The rival king has fallen. And the board is clear once more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LEA
The world narrows to a single,sharp image. Moretti on the floor. Blake’s men materializing. Nico standing over his fallen enemy, magnificent in his half-dressed state. And me—wrapped in Nico’s jacket, my skin still humming from his touch, watching the scene unfold as if I’m floating above it.
The silence in the office is broken only by the ragged breaths from Moretti as he lies on the expensive carpet. His gun has been kicked away. Two of Blake’s men have their weapons trained on him, while Blake himself stands ready, waiting for Nico’s next command.
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen violence. But something has shifted inside me. The woman who entered this office tonight—the one hell-bent on revenge, who thought she knew exactly who the monsters were—is gone. In her place stands someone who has crossed lines I never imagined. I killed a man to save Nico. I used my body as a weapon. I helped bring down a crime lord.
What terrifies me isn’t what I’ve done. It’s how alive I feel from it.
Nico hasn’t looked at Moretti once since he hit the floor. His eyes are fixed on Julian, the bartender who betrayed him, now whimpering in the chair he’s been tied to. The intensity of Nico’s gaze makes me cold—it’s the face of a man contemplating how he will dismantle another human being.
“Get him out of my sight,” Nico says, his voice pure ice, nodding toward Julian.
“The warehouse, sir?” Blake asks, his tone professional.
Nico gives a single, curt nod. A death sentence.
Two of Blake’s men move toward Julian, who begins to sob. “Please, Mr. Varela, I didn’t have a choice. They threatened my sister?—”
“Nico, wait.”
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. Every head in the room turns. Nico’s expression is impassive, a mask of cold power that dares me to challenge him in front of his men.
My heart hammers, but I take a step forward, pulling his jacket tighter around me, acutely aware of my nakedness underneath. Yet somehow, I don’t feel powerless.
“You caught me in a trap meant to kill you,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected. “And you didn’t kill me. You showed me the truth.” I glance at Julian, at his tear-streaked face, the absolute terror in his eyes. “He was a pawn. A weak man who was used, just like I was. Don’t kill him. Please.”
Nico’s jaw sets. For a moment, I see the war behind his eyes—the ruthless crime lord battling the man who held me in his arms at the lake house, the man who chose to trust me. The silence stretches. Finally, he gives a slow, almost imperceptible nod.
“Change of plans, Blake,” he says, his voice dangerously quiet. His gaze moves to Julian’s arm, to the elaborate sleeve tattoo that covers it. “He is so proud of that ink. Take him to the basement. I want it burned off his arm. All of it.” His eyes meet Julian’s, who has frozen in a new kind of horror. “A permanent reminder of what happens when someone betrays my trust. Then get him out of my city. If I ever see his face in Chicago again, I will kill him myself.”
The mercy is so brutal it takes my breath away. Blake nods. “Understood, sir.”
Julian screams as Blake’s men drag him from the office.
With the traitor dealt with, Nico turns his attention to Moretti. He crosses to him and grabs him by the collar, yanking him up. “Where is Isabel meeting you? Give me her location.”
Moretti’s face contorts into a bloody grin as Nico lands a single, brutal punch. “Fuck you, Varela,” he spits. “I’m no rat. I’d rather die.”
“That can be arranged,” Nico growls.
“I have an idea.” Again, I surprise myself. I move forward, placing my hand on his arm, feeling the coiled power there. “Beating him won’t work. But I can get her to come to us.”
Nico turns to face me fully, surprise giving way to something deeper—respect. He sees what I’ve become: a strategist. His equal. “How?”
“Isabel thinks I’m her new protégée,” I say. “If she thinks this plan worked—that you’re dead and I’m some triumphant victim ready to fall into her arms... we use that. She also knows where my mother is. She has leverage.”
“And you think she’ll come to you?” There’s skepticism in his voice, but also interest.
I nod. “She wants me. She sees me as a trophy. She’ll come if I call. Especially if I say I need her.”
Nico listens, then gives a single, sharp nod. “Set it up.”
He trusts me. He’s ceding control of this crucial move to me.
