"How many rounds does this hold?" I asked, picking up what looked like a tactical rifle.
Roman’s eyebrows shot up. "Thirty. How did you?—"
"My father was military." I set the weapon down carefully, running my fingers along the barrel. "He taught me to shoot when I was twelve. Said a woman should know how to protect herself."
I moved to another section, studying the layout with analytical precision. "This setup—you’re not just defending against random attacks. You’re preparing for siege warfare."
"Cassie—"
"The communication equipment suggests you have multiple safe houses, all networked together." I turned to face him, notingthe way he was watching me with something that looked like surprise. "How many families are you at war with?"
"Three. Maybe four, depending on how tonight goes."
The casual way he said it made my stomach drop. "And you think bringing me deeper into this world is going to make me want to stay?"
Roman moved closer, backing me against the steel wall. The cold metal bit through my thin shirt, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from his body.
"I think you need to understand that there is no safe distance from this," he said, his voice rough with something that sounded like desperation. "The moment you walked into my office five months ago, you became part of it. The moment I claimed you, you became a target."
"Thenunclaim me," I whispered, but the words came out breathless instead of defiant.
His hand slammed against the wall beside my head, caging me in. "I can’t. Don’t you understand? I couldn’t let you go now even if I wanted to."
The raw honesty in his voice hit me like a physical blow. This wasn’t about control or possession—this was about fear. Fear of losing something that had become precious to him.
"Roman," I started, but he cut me off.
"I need to tell you about Anton."
The name hung between us like a loaded gun. I’d heard references to him before—Roman’s former right hand, the man who’d betrayed him. But I’d never heard the whole story.
"Anton was like a brother to me," Roman said, his voice carefully controlled. "My father brought him into the family when we were teenagers. I trusted him with everything—my business, my plans, my life."
His free hand came up to trace along my jawline, and I had to fight not to lean into the touch.
"We were expanding into legitimate businesses, trying to clean up the family operations. Anton was supposed to handle the transition, work with law enforcement to ensure everything was above board."
"What happened?" "He sold me out to the Torrino family during a peace negotiation. Walked me into an ambush that should have killed me." Roman’s jaw clenched. "Two of my best men died because I trusted the wrong person."
The pain in his voice was raw, unfiltered. I could see why betrayal had turned him into the cautious, skeptical man he was now.
"How did you find out it was him?"
"It took three months of investigation. When I finally cornered him, he begged for his life. Said he’d been coerced, threatened, forced into betrayal." Roman’s eyes met mine. "I put two bullets into him anyway."
The confession should have terrified me. Instead, I found myself understanding the brutal logic of his world. Trust, once broken, became a terminal disease.
"That’s why you don’t trust anyone," I said.
"That’s why I can’t afford to trust anyone." His thumb swept across my lower lip. "But somehow, you’ve wormed your way under my skin."
The admission hung between us like a challenge. I could see the war playing out in his eyes—the need to protect me warring with the knowledge that protection meant possession.
"If you want to leave," he said softly, "now is your chance. Walk away, and I’ll make sure you disappear so completely that no one will ever find you. New identity, new life, enough money to start over anywhere you want."
The offer was genuine. I could see it in his eyes—he would let me go if I really wanted it. But I could also see what it would cost him.
Instead of answering with words, I fisted my hands in his shirt and dragged him down to me.
