: Chapter 12

“Boston, such a queen.” He opens his arms as if for a hug, but Enzo’s swift arm snaking around my middle in that exact moment has him lowering them with a laugh. “Always a pleasure to see you.” He beams.

“You know, I agree.” I smile back, and it only grows when Enzo not-so-subtly yanks me closer to his chest. “I wonder if this time around will be as entertaining as the last.”

He chuckles, winking and moving his jacket slightly to show he’s more prepared now, with his gun holstered on his hip.

The Enterprise isn’t federal ground, so a concealed handgun license is the only excuse we need if caught with weapons by the handful by actual upstanding citizens littered around the room.

“How about you?” His eyes trail over my dress and Enzo literally growls, drawing his attention back to my face, humor dancing across his features.

“I was already pushed to my limit tonight and got mine dirty.” Enzo stiffens behind me and I hold in my smirk as I say, “Daddy took it away after that.”

With a fake pout, I look up at Enzo.

Philip’s laughter is loud and gains us attention, but it’s worth the murderous look in Enzo’s eyes. It may not seem like a total dig considering, but calling out the fact Philip is younger than Enzo, not by all that much but younger no less, is a soft kick to his pride whether Enzo cares or not.

He doesn’t, but the insinuation he’s old can be interpreted many ways. Always in the worst when the person they’re spoken to is looking for a reason to feel bigger and badder than the man himself…even when he’s not.

Enzo’s hand on my stomach is damn near trembling in rage but fuck him.

“Watch yourself, Mitchell. A room full of clean cops wouldn’t even stop me if I felt the need to put a bullet between your eyes.” Enzo’s warning is calmly spoken, and Philip’s features harden on the man at my back.

Before Philip can make a retort that might get him put on his ass tonight, a second and third man join our little powwow.

I recognize them instantly, straightening my spine and softening my expression out of habit in order to seem unthreatening. Indulgent.

Reggie Moore, member of the eastern district, and once was second to the hidden Henley family. Traditionally run mafia family, as in unlike Enzo, my father, and many others, the Moore family doesn’t play the I’m but a businessman routine to the outside world. They simply make sure there’s no evidence left behind to claim otherwise…even though he’s sitting on millions, his only legit business is an old mattress shop in his hometown.

The other is Christof Galley, head of the Galley organization. They’re the go-to for intel, master private investigators with informants and jail rats all over reporting back to them. They likely have more blackmail material than the Playboy bunnies of the past, and that’s saying something. Some call them snakes since they slither their way through, searching for the body or the bomb that leads to the payout, so in a lot of ways, they are. But you don’t hunt for wolves in a field of wildflowers.

I subtly look behind Christof in search of the familiar face I was half hoping to see here tonight, but from where I’m standing, he’s absent.

“It’s good to see you here, Enzo.” Reggie’s eyes slide my way and Enzo’s fingers span out along my stomach, gently ushering us back a few steps, putting more distance between me and the dark, dead-eyed man. “And with a Revenaw, no less.”

The accusation is there, the threat smooth and arctic cold.

There has never been a family tie between the four crime districts and the look in Reggie’s eyes tells us he’s against it, which in itself is interesting considering Enzo technically doesn’t have one of his own.

“Boston,” Enzo says smoothly. “You’ve met Reggie Moore and Christof Galley.”

“Mr. Galley.” I smile, dipping my chin slightly. “Lovely to see you again.”

“Always a pleasure, Miss Revenaw. Nicholas will be sad to hear he missed you tonight.”

His response is swift, the name-drop of his nephew respectful, though I doubt Enzo agrees as his fingers twitch against me, so I decide to acknowledge what he said out of spite. “As am I. If I wished to see anyone tonight, it would be him.” I smile, and it turns a little smug when Enzo’s harsh breath fans across my back, but I don’t miss the odd satisfaction that my comment brings to Christof’s eyes.

I keep my picture of poise, meeting Reggie Moore’s gaze once more, and almost smirk at the accusation in his expression.

I am so done with people tonight and it’s only just begun.

“As for Mr. Moore, we’ve not directly met, no.” I smile, moving my first piece on the game board. I lift my left hand, the men all spread around me like a crescent moon, forcing them all to take note of the little rock settled there. “It’s a pleasure.”

The swell of Enzo’s chest at my back is an unmistakable, unspoken “good girl” and now I wish I hadn’t done it at all.

Reggie is a man of control, as most in this room are, but his gaze pauses on the rose gold band for two beats before he forces himself to accept the pleasantry. Rather than shaking my hand as I had turned my wrist in greeting after showing Enzo’s ownership, because that is how these men interpret a ring on a woman’s finger, he turns my wrist right back, lowering his lips to my knuckles.

Enzo clamps a hard hand on the older man’s shoulder a split second before his mouth is to meet my skin. Reggie must be twice Enzo’s age with double the battle scars, but the man still tenses at the touch…a fact only I am aware of with his hand still wrapped around mine.

Reggie looks up, managing a tight smile, and releases me, albeit very, very slowly.

Enzo swiftly wraps his hand over mine, entwining our fingers together, his palm subtly brushing up and down the back of my hand. Almost as if he thinks his palm will wipe away Reggie’s touch from beneath it, but that’s one of those dumb girl thoughts I need to push away.

It’s a pissing contest, Boston. He’s not actually bothered by the man touching you, just the fact that someone dared to touch what belongs to him.

He’d do the same if it were Katana.

That’s a sobering thought and I’m back to being pissed off.

My eyes catch my sister’s across the room, Bastian at her side, and she jerks her head.

Clearing my throat, all the men snap their attention toward me.

“Well, I’ll leave you all to talk amongst men.” When Enzo’s hold doesn’t loosen, I look up over my shoulder. “I’m going to chat with my sister before we’re seated for dinner.”

There is a warning in his gaze, but if he denies me, it will put a question as to why into these men’s minds. He can’t have that, especially since he’s set on these people believing this lie.

“Of course.” He releases me, and I have to force myself to breathe when his knuckles come up to my jaw, gliding along it as he lowers his head, pressing his lips there.

They’re soft, warm, and full, and gone in a single second.

Satisfaction rings in his gaze, now latched onto me, but it’s gone in a blink.

I slip away, hoping the heat dancing up my chest doesn’t make it past the high neck of my dress.

I get two steps when Rocklin whispers something to Bastian. He meets my gaze a moment, dipping his chin, and I offer a small wave back as Rocklin breaks away, meeting me halfway.

She sighs, grabs my right hand, and drags me to the small pop-up bar at the far right of the room, her undercover recruits for the Greyson Society behind the counter.

She passes me a chardonnay and takes a small glass of dark liquor for herself, clinking it against my own. We take a small sip and I laugh around the rim, my eyes trailing over her man.

“What?” She scowls.

“The last time I saw Bastian he was in a leather jacket and faded jeans.”

Rocklin chuckles, eating up the sight of Bastian who keeps her in his line of sight from across the room. “He looks damn good in a suit, doesn’t he?”

“He’s all right.”

Her glare swings my way and we both laugh.

“Hey, you’ve got the second hottest man on your arm tonight,” she teases.

“Speaking of hot men,” I say, “I saw Mr. Galley, but he said Nicholas wasn’t coming tonight.”

Rocklin nods, her gaze surveying the room. “He’s on a job from what we’re being told. No one has seen him since Bastian took Dad’s place. Mr. Galley says he’ll be back at Greyson in the fall, but we shall see,” she muses.

Interesting, but it could be true. I sent him on a mission of my own once, too.

In retrospect, it’s not exactly something to brag about.

Rocklin turns my way suddenly, her expression pointed. “Small talk is out of the way, so let’s get to the real shit. You’re here with the man you went after and hooked, so why do you look like you’re going to vomit for the next five days if you try to eat anything?”

I hate how she knows everything about me sometimes.

I consider lying, telling her everything is fine, but decide a small truth would be simpler. Besides, she now teaches the course on human lie detectors at the academy. “We have a lot to learn about each other.”

“And you don’t like everything you’ve come to know.”

“Nope.” I down my wine like it’s hard liquor and ask for a larger pour on the second one. “How do you know Katana?” I ask as casually as I can.

“She accepted the invitation to Greyson Elite this fall,” she says it with an expression on her face that can only mean duh.

In all fairness, it was a stupid question when I know how it works.

You can only get into Greyson Elite if you’re invited, and once you accept, you’re required to come in for an in-person meeting, aka interrogation, where the Greyson girls—my sister, Delta, and their other best friend Bronx—decide if they are going to rescind your invite or file it away and get a room ready for you in the boarding school dorms.

“The only reason we allowed her to do a video call is because Enzo had already signed the contract for your marriage.” She frowns. “Bronx was pissed, special treatment and all that, but I told her she can hack her way into the girl’s brain for all I care, so she got over it.”

“Where is Bronx?”

“Working.”

It’s the only answer I get as I’m not a “Greyson girl.”

I used to think I would have the chance to fill that last seat the Greyson girls sit on, but that’s not how it works.

Greyson girls must be representatives of each criminal district—north, south, east, and west. Delta, Bronx, and my sister make up three-fourths, but the fourth district has kept their heiress hidden for over a decade now, and if they don’t surface soon, everything they’ve worked for could fall apart.

“I knew she’d be a popular one,” Rocklin muses, spinning and leaning her back against the bar—her bare back, thank you very much.

I follow my twin’s line of sight to where Katana stands with a girl I don’t recognize, no less than five guys standing around her, vying for her attention.

God, she couldn’t be at least a little unattractive.

Her smile curves higher and I grind my teeth, focusing on my half-empty glass in my hand.

“Looks like big brother has no intention of letting her get herself some.” Rocklin laughs and my head snaps to where I left Enzo, gaze slicing through the faces until I spot him, charging right for the group fawning all over his precious ex.

I should tell my sister. Enzo is essentially lying to get her into the protective walls of Greyson Elite Academy. There are no lies allowed on Greyson grounds and she’d be expelled immediately.

But if she goes to GE in the fall, you’ll have him to yourself.

Ugh. I cringe at my damn self.

Pathetic, Boston. You already had to bribe a man to marry you, don’t go getting attention-starved.

I really am a train wreck.

“My favorite sight.”

Rocklin and I look over to find our dad walking up with a soft smile.

“My girls in one place, not tearing each other’s throats out.” He puts a hand on both our shoulders.

“The night’s still young, Dad,” I remind him, “Give us a couple hours.”

“Or couple more of these?” Rocklin lifts her glass.

He chuckles, shaking his head, his eyes falling on me. “I haven’t heard from you. Enzo said you weren’t ready to speak to me after what I did.”

Did he now?

“Can you blame me?”

My father watches me closely, before a small smile pulls at his lips. “No, I can’t. Tell me, how are things going at the Fikile estate?”

“Fine.”

He waits for more, as does my sister, but they’re not going to get it.

My father’s frown is all-telling. He can see right through me, as always, but he doesn’t demand to know what it is I’m not liking, and honestly, it’s kind of shocking. Even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. I’m not being beaten or starved. I’m not left out in the cold or passed around the guards as a plaything.

So yes, things are fine. I’m fine.

Same story, new view.

A knot forms in my throat, but I use the chardonnay to swallow past it.

“Are you coming back to Greyson Elite in the fall?” It’s my sister who asks this.

“I haven’t decided.” I shrug, looking out over the room as if I couldn’t care less when really, I don’t know what I’ll be allowed, or forced to do. Things with Enzo are complicated in a way I haven’t quite figured out yet.

He loves to remind me he owns me, but then sometimes there’s passion behind the possession. It’s confusing.

He is confusing.

“You should return. There is much training you could benefit from there, third years go into Assassin 101, and being the wife of a man like Enzo, you need knowledge in not only defense but offense.” My father studies my expression. “With Katana’s attendance, it should be no problem.”

Katana. Right.

He might make me go back to Greyson to help watch over his precious Katana.

I’d like to watch her drown in the underground pool.

“Greyson students live on campus, Dad. I doubt Enzo would be okay with that.”

“You would be surprised. Most men in his position want their wives away somewhere safe, being he’ll be gone more than he’ll be home,” he counters.

Will he be?

My eyes slide his way, white-hot jealousy coursing through me when I spot his hand on Katana’s bicep as he holds her close, whispering something in her ear as she stares down at his suit.

“Boston, there’s something we need to tell you.” My dad draws my attention back.

Rocklin stands straight and I narrow my eyes on the two.

“What?”

“Well, sweetheart, this isn’t the best place, but I don’t know when⁠—”

“Kylo Greco is our brother. And Mother didn’t die randomly; she was poisoned and the man responsible is dead.” Rocklin drops her bombs nice and easy, without so much as a break in her perfect armor, just another example of why she was chosen as the Greyson girl over me.

Meanwhile, I have no words, the image of my mother’s lifeless body lying face down on her bed the morning I found her dead is all I see.

Poisoned.

How?

Why?

A million theories run through my head in seconds, but it takes only a single breath for the answer to slam into the forefront of my mind.

Power.

My mother lost her life in a power play that clearly didn’t work, because while broken on the inside, my father didn’t fall. In fact, he grew stronger after her death, colder. More detached.

It was only the last few years that the man I remembered from when we were little started to peek through the hardened mask he’s worn the last decade.

Rocklin steps closer. “I only found out the day Dad was superseded and there hasn’t been a moment to tell you yet.”

I look to my dad, at his stony face, and I do all I can to keep mine the same.

There’s nothing to be done about our mother; she died a long time ago, so I bury the ache threatening to take over and focus on the other part. “A brother.”

Our father has the decency to hang his head as it doesn’t have to be said he was unfaithful to the love of his life. Not when the youngest Greco is our age.

“It was my doing,” he states the obvious. “I needed an heir, and your mother couldn’t seem to give me one. It wasn’t until after I found out Kylo’s mother was with child that your mother and I got the news of you two.”

I nod, suddenly feeling sick and ready to vomit despite the lack of food in my stomach. Looking toward Rocklin, I try to make light of this as that’s what’s expected, for us to be accepting and emotionless at the drop of a dime. Or bomb, considering.

Poor Mom.

A slight tremble dares to appear over my lips, so I bite into my cheek, desperate to stop it. I’m already seen as the reckless daughter, known to react without thinking, so I should get an award for this because all I want to do is scream into the air and claw at my dad’s face a little. Just enough to sting.

I do neither, though, instead taking the opposite approach. “Too bad it wasn’t Damiano. At least he’s a badass,” I say of her right-hand man. Or he was before Bastian. Considering they used to fuck I’d say that’s likely changed.

Rocklin laughs but shrugs a shoulder. “You’d be surprised. Bastian’s been working with Kylo. He’s quite impressive.”

I glance toward the group of Greyson Elite guys I spotted the Greco brothers standing by and catch the eye of the one who shares half my blood, and my brows rise slightly. “Wow.”

“That’s what I said. He’s like a mini Dad.”

Literally. Same sharp features, same dark hair and build.

My mother was murdered.

Swallowing, I look away, and just in time to spot Gorgio Mitchell approaching.

“Incoming,” I mumble, before plastering a small smile on my face. “Mr. Mitchell. Good to see you again.”

“Always.” He inclines his head my way, then my sister’s, and when his eyes land on my father, they narrow. “Rayo.”

“Gorgio. How’s the new…endeavor treating you?” my dad asks, but his tone is low, and his words clipped. “I hear you’re in search of something?”

“Time will tell, won’t it?” Gorgio offers in answer. “But I have it on good word things are progressing just as I’d hoped.”

When more silence than what would be considered polite passes between the men, I focus on my father, and sure enough, there is something about this he doesn’t like, his chin lifting almost as if in challenge.

Rocklin pulls her phone from her bag, leaning in to whisper, “Bronx is calling. I need to find Delta and take this.” My twin squeezes my arm, looking to Dad and then Gorgio. “Gentlemen.” She tips her chin on her exit.

“I should—” I attempt my own escape, but Gorgio slips in front of me, blocking my path.

“Stay,” he says, still in a stare-off with my dad. “I’d love to hear about you and Enzo. I must say, when the images surfaced a few weeks ago, it was quite a shock to see you’d been bartered.”

My muscles lock at his interpretation, but I don’t know why. I told Enzo no one would believe us. It’s too quick. Too coincidental, but my “job” is to pretend we’re in love, so I simply force a small laugh, finally drawing his narrowed gaze from my father to me.

But also…what pictures?

“Mr. Mitchell, you’re hilarious.” I smile as if I’m a nitwit who assumes his words were a joke and not an accusation. “I will admit, when I asked Daddy’s permission to date him, I didn’t think he would ever agree.” I force myself to look over at Enzo, and like a flame to a fire starter, his stare instantly moves from Katana to me, anger swiftly flashing over his face when he spots Gorgio.

Despite Enzo standing with a woman I want to kill and he wants to keep, I force my features to soften for Gorgio’s benefit. For the sake of our deal.

I’m holding up my end of the bargain, that’s all, so I fall into the lie.

I imagine I’m looking at a man I can’t live without, a man whose love breaks the mold of what I know love to be—an action that cultivates from convenience—and I imagine I love him back. That he is the be-all and end-all of my existence, and that, should the barrel of a Beretta be pointed his way, I love him enough to step in front of it. I imagine he’s really mine and that he’s honored to be.

What a world that would be.

As I stare, Enzo’s expression morphs into one I don’t recognize, the lines beside his eyes softening, lush lips parting.

A knot threatens to form in my throat, and I swiftly look back to Gorgio, who now has his head tipped slightly as he regards me.

“I never thought we’d make it this far,” I manage to say, my lips curving as I glance down at the ring. It’s all for show, but longing is a lot like loving, a raw beat deep in one’s chest, and mine currently pounds with a pressurized pulse. There is no doubt in my mind I appear as convincing as I need to be.

“Far but not all the way.” The older man’s comment has my head rising, as it’s not all that different from what his son said the other night. “I really wish you had considered my son’s offer, Rayo.” Gorgio looks to my ring, and then to my father. “There is still time.”

He walks away with a smirk, leaving his words, that sound a lot like a warning, hanging in the air between my father and me.

“Prick,” my father hisses. “I should drop a fucking bomb over his estate, watch how quickly those labs of his go up in flames.”

“What did he mean?” I watch him stride off, a small frown building.

Gorgio walks past Enzo and Enzo’s eyes snap my way, narrowing. I spin to face my dad as Enzo’s words come back to me.

I want Gorgio’s heir to understand what belongs to me so he stops trying to negotiate a deal that will never be made.

My muscles lock, an array of emotions washing through me, the biggest one being shock.

Philip Mitchell wanted an arranged marriage. He wanted—no, wanted isn’t right based on his father’s reaction alone.

Philip wants to marry me, and he went as far as to ask my father.

My eyes are wide as I stare at my dad. “Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s no point in asking if it’s true, and he doesn’t deny it.

“Because the offers were as irrelevant then as they are now.” He lifts my left hand, inspecting my ring with a rare, soft smile. “Your mother would love this.”

“Stop.” I wrench my hand away. “How dare you mention her to me after the shit I learned today!” My eyes burn but I fight the gleam of moisture threatening to pool. “You said offers!” I hiss quietly. “As in more than one, or more than one person?”

His blank stare tells me it’s the latter.

“Oh my god.” I take a step back, hurt and confusion washing over me. “You knew all I wanted was a path for my life. A place in this world where I belong.”

“You belong as much as anyone.”

“I belong as much as your son did!” I snap.

He rounds on me. “That is not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is you not holding on to that promise you made Mom to never marry us off as a duty to the family when you knew I wanted an out. No, I needed one.”

“And now you have one.” He peeks around, smiling at who the hell knows somewhere behind me. “So, this is not only inappropriate, considering where we are, but a waste of our energy.”

I glare. “You should have told me.”

“And what would you have done, daughter?” he bites out in a low whisper.

“I wouldn’t have—” My words cut off when my gaze crashes with Enzo’s across the space.

What would I have done?

Philip has been a shameless flirt for years, but I assumed he wanted me to remember his name when people came asking where they could score an upper when exams rolled around—not that everyone wasn’t already aware he was our own personal pharmacist. It’s literally his family’s “contribution” to the underground world. So yeah, it was either that or that he just really wanted to fuck me. Never once did I think he wanted an arranged marriage.

I think back to all the times I felt so desperate to get out that I purposely put myself in perilous situations, not caring what might happen. At some points in my life, I’d convinced myself anything was better than being below…everyone else. Being second best or simply not enough.

Not enough to get into the dance school of my dreams thanks to my body, not enough to be trusted with the family business thanks to my “reckless behavior” because showing any sort of emotion when the situation called for stony-faced fake shit was not allowed. I was a little girl, for fuck’s sake, and then a teenager. An angry, bitter, and yeah, a sad one.

I had everything yet I had nothing.

Pretty sure I would have taken his offer right to the altar.

Would I regret it later? Who the hell knows, but is that not my exact situation now?

In the middle of a mistake that left me married to a man for a matter of convenience.

As I said before, same stray, new view.

My eyes snap up to my dad’s and I hate the pity I see staring back at me.

“Forget it.” I burst around my father, rushing across the giant fucking cocktail room, and down the hall. I skip the first set of lavatories and continue past the main hall, pausing for the retina scan that grants access to the private section of The Enterprise. Once through, I shove my way into the closest powder room.

Clinching my fists around the cool granite, I close my eyes as I roll my ankles and try to flex my aching toes.

No sooner than I let out a long, choppy breath do the doors burst open, and Enzo steps inside, locking the door behind him.

“Lovely.” I drop my chin, glaring at the ring on my finger. “Can I help you with something?”

“Why are you in here?”

“To have a fucking party, Enzo,” I snap.

“You’re upset.”

“I am so far past upset it’s hilarious. I literally might laugh until I cry because I am so damn…” I trail off, mumbling to myself, “Why did I allow things to get this far?”

“I don’t understand your issue.”

My head jerks up, gaze clashing with his in the mirror. “This entire fucking evening is my issue.”

“You mean Katana.” His eyes narrow. “People need to see she’s protected by me.”

I close my eyes, pressing at my temples with my fingertips.

Don’t stab him. Do not stab him.

“You’re acting like a brat,” he accuses. “No one knows she’s⁠—”

“I know!” I scream, whipping around. “I. Know. Enzo. I’m the idiot who ran headfirst the moment I learned how to find you instead of waiting for all the information, proving I’m the fuckup my family sees me as, because what an idiot I am!”

“You do not speak about yourself like that.”

“Oh, fuck off!” A hollow laugh escapes me and I swipe at my hair, throwing it over my shoulder with an angry growl as I pace the space between us. “If I had just waited⁠—”

“If you would have waited what?!” he shouts.

I yank my head his way, stopping in my tracks. “You know what.”

“Say it anyway,” he demands.

Okay, fine.

“If I would have found out about her, if I knew she existed at all, I never, ever would have so much as breathed in your direction.”

Enzo’s jaw is clenched tight, his nostrils flaring as he stares at me with hard, hazel eyes.

“I thought we could find a way to give each other something we didn’t have before,” I admit, watching as his brows crash in the center. “But now? I would rather remain locked in the bedroom you assigned me than live this life with you,” I seethe.

I charge for the door, but he catches my arm in a firm grip, yanking me around as he dips down in my face.

“That’s not an option for you,” he forces past clenched teeth, his face turning red. “Your life is mine now.”

“Only because you tricked me into marrying you.”

“I gave you what you asked for and I took what you promised. I see no issue.”

“And that right there is the fucking issue!” I scream. “You made a fool of me!”

“No!” he shouts so loud, so damn dark. I freeze. “I made a wife of you.”

It takes me several tries, but I finally manage a full breath, yanking my arm from his hold so hard he’s forced to let go or leave a mark. He chooses to release me, and I move back several steps.

He’s not understanding, and to be honest, I’m not sure I understand where he’s coming from either, but like my father’s earlier warning, this isn’t the place. We have an appearance to uphold here, even if I’d consider this evening a massive failure of the directive I was sold.

“I want to leave.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Let me leave, Enzo.” There’s a break in my voice and I cringe at the sound, hoping he didn’t hear it, but the shift in his expression tells me he did. “This night is humiliating enough. Please don’t make me beg.”

His features tighten, slowly softening by the second, his grip right along with it.

I breathe a sigh of relief, but I should know better by now that nothing with this man is going to be easy.

His face becomes devoid of all emotions. “Our job here is not done, Boston. You go home when I do.” He stomps angrily for the door.

“You mean when we go home.”

He pauses, looking back with a frown of confusion, but it only holds for a second before he understands what I mean.

It’s not just us. It’s me and him and her.

I don’t know what I expect him to say, maybe nothing, but instead he hits me with, “Her presence goes without saying.” His eyes grow cold. “She’s family, remember? And family sticks together.”

The metaphorical key in my back has officially broken through the bone, reaching the other side.

Family sticks together yet my mother was murdered, I have a brother my father threw away, and a husband with an ex-wife he not only won’t let go of, but wants to show off…

Enzo reaches out, gently gripping my hair and laying it over my shoulder, his knuckles following its length to the very tips.

“The black market would pay heavily for a heart as hard as yours.”

“I’m aware, Little Bride. I’m aware.”