Page 110 of Beautiful Ruins
Gianni’s expression flickered, though only momentarily.He wasn’t one to dwell on emotion.
“He has crossed his own kind.Burned every bridge available to him.And he is still standing in my house, providing intelligence that protects our family.”
Gianni scoffed softly.“He’s insane.”
“He’s useful,” I countered.
A beat passed.
“He is also,” I added, “standing directly in the line of fire for us.”
Gianni ran a hand down his face.Then snorted.
“Fine,” he ground out.“But you might want to keep an eye on him.”
“For what?”
He leaned slightly closer.
“He’s notorious for falling for the women he meets,” Gianni reminded me.“And I did not miss the way he was looking at Antonella.”
I blinked once.Then twice.
“You’re delusional.”
“I’m observant,” he stated.“Let’s see how forgiving and gracious you are then, cousin.”
The hot waterhit my shoulders the second I stepped under the spray, and still it wasn’t enough to wash the tension out of my body.
Downstairs, I could hear the muted movement of my men cleaning up what was left of the mess.Furniture being rearranged.Glass being swept.Low voices speaking in clipped, efficient tones.The aftermath of violence always sounded the same—composed, methodical.
Like it could erase what had happened.
It couldn’t.
I braced my hands against the tile and let the water run over my face, jaw tight.
They had come to my house.
My house.
Not a warehouse.Not a meeting ground.Not a territory line meant for bloodshed and negotiation.My home.Where my sister slept.Where Izzy walked barefoot through the halls.Where I had allowed myself, foolishly, to believe I could carve out a space untouched by the uglier parts of my life.
And they had kicked the door in like it meant nothing.
I had spent years building layers between my world and my family.Containment.Authority.Distance.Violence stayed outside.Business stayed outside.War stayed outside.
They had dragged it straight into my foyer.
My chest tightened at the memory of the unanswered calls.Archie’s.My men’s.Izzy’s.
That silence had been worse than any gunshot.
For those few minutes, I had been certain something had gone wrong.Certain I was returning to loss instead of chaos.
And I had not survived loss well the first time.
The bathroom door opened.
