Semua Bab Bound By Blood And Vows.: Bab 21 - Bab 29

While Ava escorted our guests outside. I quickly made my way to the sunroom to make sure everything was perfect. The candles flickered low, casting delicate shadows along the whitewashed brick walls, soft and warm like the memory of her smile. Golden light kissed the table I had obsessed over all night, two places set precisely, silverware aligned so sharply it could’ve passed for weapons. Napkins folded like roses sat beside porcelain-white plates. The chef had just finished plating the dessert, a rich dark chocolate torte with raspberry drizzle, her favorite and left without a word, sensing the gravity in the air. The wine breathed in crystal decanters. Vintage. Handpicked. Just like she used to talk about when she still talked to me. I remembered every detail. The year, the flavor, the way her nose would scrunch when the tannins were too sharp. Everything tonight was perfect. Every little thing was for her. Now all I needed to do was go and ask her to join me, to give me a chance t

The liquor burns going down. Second bottle. Or third. I’ve lost count. Dom’s voice is a distant echo, dulled by the roaring in my skull. He’s been talking for minutes, waving around a laptop, throwing around words like embezzlement and siphoning. But none of it registers until he says her name.“Ava found it.”I freeze.“What?” My voice comes out rough, like I’ve been chewing glass.“This...this entire thing. She caught it. She traced it through your offshore shell. One of your people’s been bleeding funds through a looped dummy account. She figured it out in one night, Nico.”He pushes the laptop in front of me. Screens. Numbers. A line of code so specific only someone who knew my encryption could’ve cracked it. And she did. But all I see is her name. Attached to the shell.“I trusted her,” I whisper, barely aware of myself. “I brought her into this family...”“She didn’t take it, Nico,” Dom cuts in sharply. “She found it. She’s protecting you.”“No,” I growl, rising to my feet so fa

NicoThe office reeks of tension, of sweat, blood, and desperation masked with overpriced cologne and spilled bourbon. The overhead light flickers once. The laptop casts a sickly glow over the papers and drives strewn across the desk, across the floor, across the leather couch where I haven’t moved in... I don’t know how long. Ava’s voice echoes in the back of my skull.“Someone’s siphoning from the East accounts. It’s a backdoor.”I’d laughed in her face. Told her to stay in her lane. Turns out the only one running the right direction was her. The logs don’t lie. A transaction rerouted through a shell we dissolved six months ago. A safety protocol overwritten with a passkey only six of us have. My fingers fly across the keyboard again. I reopen the spreadsheet for the hundredth time. My eyes burn, dry from hours of not blinking enough. Of seeing the same trail. The same smoke Ava saw. And realizing too late that she was already burning when she handed me the match. Another offshore a

AvaWarmth. It’s the first thing I register. Soft, slow, unfamiliar warmth cradling my limbs like sunlight through water. I don’t remember falling asleep. I don’t even remember getting here. All I remember is cold, the way it gnawed at my skin like teeth and then arms. Strong ones. Lifting me out of the dark. Now there’s warmth and a heartbeat. Not mine. I crack my eyes open, blinking against a soft, golden light. There’s a steady thrum beneath my cheek, a slow inhale under my fingers. I’m curled against a chest, bare, firm, breathing. My legs are tangled with someone else’s, and I’m wrapped in a blanket that smells like...Cedar. Bourbon and something darker. Something dangerous.“Conner,” I whisper, my throat scraping raw.He shifts instantly, as if he’s been awake the whole time, just pretending to sleep so I could feel safe. His arm tightens around my waist. He doesn’t speak right away, just lowers his head slightly, resting his cheek against the top of mine.“You’re okay,” he says

The house has quieted, the warmth of dinner fading into the soft hush of dishes clinking in the sink. I stand at the counter, slowly drying plates with a worn towel as Conner rinses each one beside me. The guys have retreated to their rooms or disappeared to do whatever it is Irish Mafia men do when they’re not acting like a sitcom family but the laughter lingers in the walls. In the scent of garlic still hanging in the air. In the soft hush of Conner’s movements beside me. I place another clean plate in the cabinet, my muscles aching in that bone-deep way, not from violence this time, but from the unraveling of something tight inside me. I didn’t even realize how badly I needed the silence to be this… gentle.“You don’t have to do this,” Conner murmurs. “I’ve got it.”“I need to move,” I say. “Helps keep my head quiet.”He doesn’t argue. Just hands me the next plate. When we’re done, he wipes his hands on a rag and turns to me. His voice is lower now, softer. “You need sleep.”I nod,