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“I met Michael D'Angelo when I was doing my ER rotation during the last leg of my residency. I wasn't even supposed to be there that day. I took a shift for someone else.”

I feel my Dragon rise under my skin, already seething.

Just hearing that bastard’s name sends heat through my blood.

“He was a patient. Nothing major. Some bruised ribs and a busted hand. Said he got jumped outside a club. That kind of thing happens more than you think, so no one really questioned it.”

She's looking at her hands, her voice even but distant.

“He sent me food a few times. Uber Eats. Nice stuff. Lobster rolls. Italian food from this really good place. It’s not unheard of for patients to thank their doctors like that. I didn’t think much of it.”

You were just being kind. Professional. I want to snarl the words, to make sure she knows this is not on her, but I hold my tongue.

This is her story to tell.

“Then he started calling. Leaving notes with the delivery guys. He asked me out. More than once. I said no at first, but he was persistent. And charming. And he didn’t seem to care that I worked crazy hours. He made me feel seen.”

My fists clench. Max notices, but he doesn’t say a word.

“I went on a few dates. He was nice. Never pushy. Always dressed well. Had manners. But then, things started to change.”

She swallows, and I can see the weight of the memory pressing on her chest.

“One night, he picked me up for dinner, but halfway through, he got a phone call. Said it was an emergency. We got in the car, and I thought he was taking me back to the hospital. But instead, we drove across the city to some rundown warehouse.”

My Dragon growls low in my chest. Max puts a warning hand on my shoulder, reminding me not to explode.

“Inside, there were men. Bleeding. One of them had been shot. Michael told me to help him. I said I needed to get to a hospital, but he pulled a gun. Pointed it at me. Told me I had everything I needed in my bag. And if the man died, so would I.”

Gasps echo from the women.

Even Emmet swears under his breath.

Casey’s voice falters now, but she pushes through it.

“I stopped the bleeding. Got the bullet out. Somehow. I let him drive me home. He kissed my cheek and left me at the door. God, I cried so hard that night, and I didn’t get any sleep that night. The next day, I turned in my resignation and left the program. I went home, packed up, and told my parents what happened.”

She looks up, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“They insisted I go to the authorities. So, I filed a report. Talked to the police. Then the Feds. They told me I had to testify against him or face charges myself. So, I agreed. I had no choice, really. The D’Angelo crime family is apparently well-known, but stupid me didn’t recognize the name. They hurt so many people. He has hurt so many people. And now he’s found me. I don’t know how, but he knows I’m here. And he’ll do anything to stop me from going to that trial.”

The silence that follows her confession is thick. Electric.

Max stands slowly, arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t worry, Casey. We’re going to make sure he regrets hunting you here. You’re Crew now, and we protect Crew.”

Kian snorts. “Regrets it so hard he forgets his own name.”

“I never wanted to bring this trouble here. I’m so sorry,” she whispers, and it breaks my heart.

Avery crosses the room and takes Casey’s hand. “You’re not alone. We don’t let our own get hurt.”

I step forward then, unable to hold back anymore.

I kneel in front of her and take her hands in mine.

“You did nothing wrong. Hear me? And you’re not going anywhere. We protect what’s ours here, and you, Petals, you’re mine.”

She lets out a slow breath. And for the first time since she started speaking, she smiles.