LOGINI hated packing. Not because it was hard. Not because I didn’t want to go. But because every folded shirt, every zipped bag, every checklist reminded me that this trip wasn’t a vacation. It was damage control. Marco sat on the edge of my bed, watching me shove another sweater into the suitcase. “You’re going to break the zipper,” he said gently.“I’ll buy a new one,” I muttered. He didn’t argue. He knew better. The lockdown being lifted should’ve felt like freedom. Instead, it felt like a countdown. The sooner we got Letta to Russia, the sooner I could get back here and help Salvatore and Matteo deal with Juan. I wasn’t leaving them to handle that alone. Not after everything. From the hallway, I heard my parents talking in low voices, my mother switching between English and Russian as she double‑checked flight details. My father reminding her to pack warm clothes even though it was summer there too.Marco leaned back on his hands. “You’re nervous.”I froze mid‑fold. “About what?”He ga
I folded the last of Gabe’s shirts and set it gently into the suitcase. It felt strange packing again, not in fear this time, not in a rush, not with my heart in my throat. This time… it felt like relief. Salvatore stood near the dresser, helping me gather the last of his things. He kept glancing toward the door, toward the hallway, toward the basement, his mind split between two worlds. “Once we’re home,” he said, tucking a stack of folded shirts under his arm, “I’ll drive back and forth to deal with Juan. Matteo and Wolf will rotate with me. You won’t be alone.”“I know,” I said softly.He set the shirts down and turned to face me fully. “I’m still putting men with Abuela. And her nurse stays with her at all times. Most of Juan’s men ran, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t a few idiots still loyal to him. They might try to find him. Or free him.”I nodded. “Whatever you think is safest.”He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll talk to the school too. Make s
The silence was the worst part. Not the ropes. Not the cold concrete. Not even the throbbing in my knee from where she...No. I wasn’t thinking about that. It was the silence.The room was empty now. No tools. No table. No threats hanging in the air like smoke. Just a chair bolted to the floor and a cot shoved against the wall. They’d taken everything else. Including the illusion that someone might come for me. My men weren’t coming. My allies weren’t coming. No one was coming. They’d betrayed me. Or abandoned me. Or decided I wasn’t worth the trouble. I wasn’t sure which was worse.I leaned my head back against the wall, breathing through the pain, trying to piece together how everything had gone so wrong so fast. Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Voices. I stiffened, listening. Not Ricci men. Not Matteo’s cold command or Wolf’s heavy boots. These voices were softer. Familiar. Roc. And… Letta? No. Not the Letta I knew. This voice was steadier. Older. Tired.“…it’s a good choice,” Roc w
Breakfast was almost done by the time the kitchen settled into its usual morning rhythm, loud, warm, and full of women who could run a small country if they felt like it. Abuela sat at the table peeling oranges, humming under her breath. Nonna was rolling dough for fresh biscuits. GreenLee stirred a pot on the stove, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling the air. Kat and Ciara had just come back downstairs after changing and feeding the babies.Gabe sat on the floor with Koda and Jace, the three of them building some tower out of wooden blocks. Koda kept knocking it over. Jace kept rebuilding it. Gabe kept laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. It was peaceful. It was safe. It was home.Kat walked in first, Liana balanced on her hip, her curls wild and her tiny fist clutching Kat’s shirt. Ciara followed with L.C., who was babbling happily and reaching for anything within grabbing distance.“Breakfast smells amazing,” Ciara said, kissing Abuela’s cheek before heading
I was still staring at the stairs long after Sara disappeared up them. My wife My sweet, soft‑spoken, gentle‑hearted wife… Just shattered Juan’s knee with a hammer like she was cracking a walnut. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to chase after her, drag her back into my arms, lock her in our bedroom and have my way with her. That was sexy as fuck.Behind me, someone snorted. Then Matteo’s laugh broke the silence. “Holy shit, Sal. You’re done.”Wolf joined in, shaking his head. “Man’s officially pussy‑whipped.”Roc leaned against the wall, smirking. “Hard.”I blinked, still half in a trance. “I... what?”Matteo clapped me on the shoulder. “She kissed you, handed you a hammer, and told you to be home in time for breakfast. That’s not a wife. That’s a general.”Wolf added, “And you listened.”Roc shrugged. “To be fair, we all would.”I finally snapped out of it, rubbing a hand over my face. “You idiots are whipped too.”Matteo raised a brow. “By who?”“Ciara,” I said.He opened his mouth...Clos
I watched from the corner as Salvatore stepped forward and ripped the bag off Juan’s head. The reaction was instant. Juan’s eyes blew wide, darting from Salvatore… to Matteo… and then finally to me. The shock on his face was almost comical. He expected fear. Tears. Begging.Instead, he found me leaning against the wall, calm as stone, a hammer hanging loosely from my fingers. His mouth twitched behind the gag. I smirked. Good. Let him see exactly who he underestimated. None of the men in the room had noticed I’d picked up a weapon. They were too focused on Juan, too focused on Salvatore’s steady breathing and Matteo’s cold stare. But Juan noticed. Of course he did. I pushed off the wall and walked toward him, slow and deliberate. His eyes followed every step. When I stopped in front of him, I tilted my head and repeated the words I’d told him on the phone, the ones that had shattered whatever fantasy he’d been clinging to.“You lose.”His whole body jerked against the restraints. Behi
The next morning came too fast. Gabe had barely finished his cereal before he was grabbing his backpack and running out the door to meet the bus. He yelled “Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” over his shoulder, and the sound still made something warm bloom in my chest.Salvatore was in the bedroom adjusting his
Sunday dinners at Abuela’s always felt like stepping into a different world, one where the air smelled like simmering tomatoes and fresh bread, where laughter bounced off the walls, and where love was loud, messy, and everywhere. Tonight was no different. My aunts were already arguing over seasonin
It had been a week since the Letta incident, and the house had finally settled again. The tension, the shouting, the slap, all of it had faded into something quieter. Something steadier. But the thing that surprised me most wasn’t the Letta melt down. It was Sara.That night, after everything, she
I was still gripping the steering wheel too hard when I pulled into the driveway behind Letta. My sister slammed her car door like a child throwing a tantrum and stomped toward the house, heels stabbing the concrete with every step. I got out slower, breathing hard through my nose. I wasn’t just pi







