My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me?
“We told you not to go alone.”
“No,” I said, stepping forward, “you warned me not to. I made my choice.”
He turned on me, jaw clenched, fury dancing in the tight line of his shoulders. “And what if he’d killed you?”
“Then at least I would’ve died on my feet. Not like some well-kept pet you let out only when you’re bored.”
The silence that followed cracked like thunder.
Nico stood now, slow and graceful as a knife being drawn.
“I don’t like what he put in your head,” he said quietly, like the calm before a firestorm.
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