I woke up in the middle of the night.
The room was too quiet.
Too still.
Only the faint sound of Mira’s breathing filled the silence, soft and steady as she slept beside .
I should’ve been sleeping too, but instead I lay awake on my side, staring at her in the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the blinds. Her hair—shorter now, darker—fell ssily across her face. It frad her like so untouchable masterpiece, sharp edges softening in the stillness of the night.
God, two years hadn’t changed a damn thing. She was still the most dangerous thing I’d ever laid eyes on. Not because of the fire in her words or the fury in her eyes, but because she could lie here, a breath away, and I felt stripped bare.
She stirred, shifting slightly, the sheets sliding down just enough to expose the smooth line of her shoulder. I had to force myself not to reach out and trace it. Not to pull her closer and bury my face in her neck until all I could taste and breathe was her.
But I didn’t.
Because I promised myself I wouldn’t push. Not tonight.
That kiss earlier had nearly undone —the first real one in years. It had been soft, hesitant at first, then sharp with the familiar hunger that always lived between us. And when she pulled back, when she looked at with flushed cheeks and parted lips... fuck. For a mont, I’d thought she might actually stay.
Instead, she turned away, and I let her.
Because if I forced it now, I’d ruin what fragile thread of trust I was trying to build back.
Still, it ate at . The taste of her lips lingered, haunting . The way her body had molded against mine so easily, like no ti had passed. Like her heart hadn’t hardened against . Like she wasn’t here plotting her revenge.
I clenched my jaw and tore my eyes away from her, staring at the ceiling. My demons didn’t allow peace, not even here. Not even when she was right next to .
The baby.
Our baby.
I’d destroyed sothing I couldn’t ever bring back, and it was the one wound ti would never close.
I swallowed hard, guilt burning through . She thought I couldn’t love, that I didn’t even know how. Maybe she was right. But she didn’t understand that I carried that weight every single day. The blood on my hands didn’t just belong to my enemies. It belonged to us too.
A soft knock at the door dragged out of my thoughts. Careful not to wake her, I slipped from the bed and crossed the room, pulling it open.
Tomas stood there, his face grim.
I was not surprised to see him but I didn’t expect him to co be here as soon as he landed in LA.
"Boss, we need to talk."
I stepped into the hallway, slowly shutting the door behind so I wouldn’t wake her.
"This better be good." I said gruffly.
"It’s Roberto," Tomas said without hesitation.
My chest tightened. "What about him?"
"He’s resurfaced. We traced activity—calls, movents. He’s been in contact with Ricciardi. And he knows Mira’s back in the States."
I stilled, my fists clenching at my sides.
Of course. Of fucking course. That phone call earlier wasn’t innocent. It wasn’t just a brother checking in on his sister. It was strategy. Ricciardi’s fingerprints were all over it.
No wonder she didn’t want to know who it was.
"Where is he?" I asked, voice low.
"New York, last I checked. But he’s moving. We’ll have eyes on him soon."
I dragged a hand over my face, exhaling slowly. Mira had no idea she was walking on thin ice. Or maybe she did, and she just didn’t care. That was the thing with her. She always trusted the wrong people. And the truth was, if Roberto thought using her would get him closer to Ricciardi’s revenge, he’d do it. Family or not.
"I want constant surveillance," I ordered. "If he so much as breathes in her direction, I want to know. And if he tries to touch her—" I stopped, my voice hardening, "—he won’t leave alive."
Tomas hesitated. "And Mira? Do you want her told?"
I shook my head sharply. "No. She doesn’t need to know anything yet."
Not when she was still balancing that line between hating and falling back into my arms. Not when Ricciardi was probably whispering lies in her ear every chance he got.
I wasn’t about to hand her another reason to slip further from .
"She’s staying under my roof for now," I said finally. "And if that ans she resents , fine. At least she’s safe."
Tomas nodded. "Understood."
When he left, I leaned against the wall for a mont, forcing the rage to settle. My chest heaved with it, the thought of Ricciardi circling her, of Roberto being his pawn.
They didn’t get it.
Mira didn’t get it.
She thought I caged her because I was selfish. Maybe I was. But it was more than that. Keeping her here, close, was the only way I could guarantee she wouldn’t be used against . Against us.
I couldn’t lose her again. Not to distance. Not to betrayal. Not to Ricciardi.
Pushing off the wall, I returned to the bedroom. Mira was still curled in the sheets, her breathing steady, oblivious to the storm waiting for her.
I sat on the edge of the bed, letting my eyes linger on her face. Peaceful now, though I knew the second she woke up, that fire would be back. Her words would be sharp, her walls higher than ever.
But I’d take it.
I’d take her anger, her hate, her resistance even if it ant she was here and not in Massimo Ricciardi’s arms.
Leaning closer, I brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek.
"You’ll thank one day," I whispered against the silence. "Even if you hate now."
Because the truth was, I wasn’t giving her up.
Not to Roberto. Not to Ricciardi.
Not to anyone for that matter.
She was mine.
And until the day I breathed my last, that wasn’t going to change.
~
The morning light slanted through the blinds when I found her in the living room, slipping her shoes on and her overnight bag was by her side. I had been in the office since dawn so I didn’t know she was up and getting ready.
I knew that look on her face. Determined. Defiant. The sa look she wore the first ti I ever tried to cage her in.
"Where are you going?" My voice ca out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t take it back.
She didn’t even flinch, just straightened slowly and t my gaze. "Out. I told you already. I co and go as I please."
I stepped forward, cutting the space between us until she had to tilt her chin up at . "That was before. Now it’s different."
Her laugh was short. "Of course it is. Because in your world, every agreent cos with fine print I didn’t sign."
My jaw clenched. "Mira, you’re not walking out of here."
She folded her arms, glaring at like I was the enemy instead of the man who would burn the world down to keep her safe. "Yes, I am. We agreed I wasn’t a prisoner anymore, Jace. I ant it, and I’m not backing down."
I could feel the heat rising in , that instinctive urge to put my foot down, not as her husband, not as a man, but as a Don. The authority in my bloodline demanded it. "I don’t care what we agreed on. My word is law in this house. You’re staying."
Her eyes narrowed, stubborn fire blazing. "You don’t get to dictate my life anymore. Not after everything. Not after what you’ve taken from . I will not give you that control over ."
I stepped closer, lowering my voice, letting the weight of my authority settle between us. "This isn’t negotiable, Mira. You’re staying because I said so."
Her breath ca faster, her hands curling into fists at her sides as she said through gritted teeth. "You don’t own ."
I didn’t blink. "I own your safety. And that ans you don’t walk out that door without my say-so."
Sothing snapped in her. Her eyes sharpened, her lips trembling, and before I could prepare for it, the words tore out of her mouth like a blade:
"Just like your father owned my father’s death?"
Silence.
The floor dropped out from under .
I froze, my blood turning to ice as her voice echoed in my skull. I stared at her, trying to piece together if I’d really heard her say it. I never would have seen that coming.
Her father’s death. My father.
She knew.
She fucking knew.
I opened my mouth, but nothing ca out. The words I always had at the ready, the threats, the control, the insistence... they all dismantled under the weight of what she had just thrown at .
And she knew it.
Mira’s lifted higher, her eyes shining not just with fury, but with sothing deeper. Sothing like Betrayal and hurt so raw it sliced through the air between us.
"You can’t control anymore, Jace," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Not when I know the truth."
Before I could move, before I could even catch my breath, she picked up her bag, turned and walked away.
Her heels clicked across the marble, each step cutting into sharper than any bullet ever had.
I didn’t stop her.
I couldn’t.
For the first ti in years, I, the man who prided himself on control, who bent entire cities and the underworld to his will, stood there utterly powerless.
Because Mira had just ripped open a wound I didn’t even know she could touch.
And all I could do was watch her walk away.
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