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But I hold back. I’ve got enough shit to deal with tonight without wasting time on a new phone. Instead, I chuck it on the bed and rip open my closet, pulling out a pair of black sweats and a fitted black T-shirt.

Blood won’t show on black, and tonight will get messy. I pull the shirt over my head, letting it stretch snug across my chest, then tie the sweats tight around my waist.

The frustration clawing in my chest won’t fade. I can still feel it, Olivia, her bruise, her fucking question about Bria. Bria, a ghost Ithought I buried long ago.

I squeeze my fists, enjoying the sting as my nails dig into my palms, then move over to the mirror. My reflection stares back at me, cold and hard.

I grab my phone off the bed, tucking it into my pocket, and I make my way to the door. My wrath needs this fight, the violence, and something raw enough to rip me out of this spiral.

23

Liv

Maybe bringing up his ex wasn’t the smartest move. Clearly,it’s a sore subject.

Genius move, Liv. Poke at the mafia boss’s emotional scars.

I roll my eyes at myself. Shaking it off, I dig through my ridiculous haul of clothes and pull out some leggings and an oversized T-shirt hidden in the pile of stuff Alessio pushed onto the floor. Comfort mode, activated.

After tossing my hair into a quick ponytail, I turn my attention to the mountain of packages around me. I start sorting through everything, but the sheer amount of stuff makes me pause.Okay… maybe this is too much. This will take me ten lifetimes to pay back.

Clover always took care of me. I had everything I needed, just never anything extravagant like this. I’m more of a local retail girl, not custom couture. I got used to keeping things simple with just the essentials, onlywhat I can carry. Even my important stuff, like photos and documents, is scanned and backed up to the cloud. I don’t have to lug anything extra around, just in case I have to move again.

A laugh slips out before I can catch it, because my brain glitches, it’s stuck on a loop from earlier. Alessio twirling the double-headed mammoth like he’s trying out for the color guard. Who even does that? And where the hell did the box of tricks come from?

The snort I let out is too loud, but my brain isn’t finished dragging me through hell. Nope, it takes a full swan dive right back to him in the shower. I should’ve thought twice before barging into the big, bad wolf’s room. It was stupid of me.

But hindsight’s twenty-twenty, and unfortunately, so was the view. The angry, tatted-up mafia don with a body that looks like it was hand-carved by the gods, every inch inked and sinful. Not that I paid attention to all of his tattoos. My face flames at the memory, because I was too busy being… distracted by what he’s been blessed with.

I didn’t mean to look, at least not that hard. But when I walked in on him, with the water pouring over every hard line and muscle, my eyes dropped, and holy hell. The water was practically showing off for him, making those two silver bars piercing through the tip of his… uh, thunder log sparkle. It lured me in, and I was stuck damn near drooling, caught somewhere between bless your heart and ruin my life. And yeah… now I fully understand why they call it a magic cross. Because hot damn,I was already wondering what kind of tricks it could do.

Then, because he can’t help himself, his stupid mouth ruins everything. ‘Is it my size, or the piercings?’ The answer isC. All of the above, obviously.

But when he says, “Be a good girl and drop to your knees,” I swear, I almost hit the floor faster than a churchgoer on Sunday. That is, until I saw the cocky-ass smirk on his stupidly hot face. Although, to be fair, I think most men would be just as self-assured if they had Alessio’sman-meat.

My thighs clench on instinct, and a frustrated groan slips out as I drag both hands over my face. It’s been way too long since I’ve had sex, and no, Theo, the cop I had a one-night stand with when I first got to Chicago, does not count. The man was so drunk, it was over before it even started. Two pumps and a sad apology. Now I’m out here acting like a total horndog, obsessing over Alessio’s third leg.

I shake my head, trying to snap myself out of it. But now that I know exactly what Alessio’s packing,I’mstarting to think he could break me in half with that thing. Not that I’d complain.

I’m so lost in my inappropriate spiral and mentally drooling over Alessio’s man-meat, that I don’t even hear the door fly open.

The door slams into the wall with a crack so loud I nearly jump out of my skin. I spin around to see Alonzo stomping in like a whole-ass freight train on a warpath.

His face looks like pure murder.

“Well, hello to you, too,” I say, crossing my arms and throwing him a look. I try to keep it breezy, but the way he’s burning holes through me with those eyes makes my stomach twist.

He starts pacing the room like a caged animal, running a hand through his hair like he’s one second away from losing his shit or throwing something. “Ever since you got here,” he growls, gripping his hair like he wants to pull it out before letting go. “Alessio’s been treating me like some fucking errand boy.” He throws his hands up, pacing harder. “Running around, doing your stupid shit, and for what? You’re not even worth it.”

I blink. It’s been a week.What the hell could Alessio have possibly made him do? Fold my socks?

I almost ask but swallow it down. There’s no point in arguing with someone so feral. Instead, I roll my eyesand turn back to my stuff, rifling through the box like his tantrum isn’t happening. Maybe if I ignore him long enough, he’ll get bored and stomp his ass right back out.

That idea lasts all of three seconds before he hurls toward me and shoves the box out of my hands. It crashes to the floor, spilling my stuff everywhere. I freeze, my eyes snapping to the mess at my feet, then snap back to him.

“Don’t push me, bitch.”

I blink. My brain fully malfunctions for a second, gears grinding to a stop.