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“Deal.” She pulls back, wiping at her eyes. “God, we’re a mess.”

“Speak for yourself.” I dab at my own tears. “I look fabulous.”

She snorts, then sobers. “I mean it though—call me if you need anything. Anytime.”

“I know.” I pull her in for a tight hug. “You too.”

We stand there for a moment longer, neither wanting to be the first to say goodbye. Finally, Rissa clears her throat.

“Okay, I should …” She gestures vaguely toward the entrance.

“Yeah.” I step back, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her again. “Just a few more hours.”

She nods, taking the steps slowly until she disappears inside for the last time.

I pullup to the house, frowning at the line of unfamiliar black sedans in our driveway. A few men in dark suits stand near the vehicles—not Zeke's usual security detail. Their posture is too rigid, their expressions too controlled. One of Zeke’s most trusted guards stands by the front door. That’s not unusual considering the events as of late.

Any other day, I’d be on high alert. But today, my mind is still back at the precinct, in the empty desk across from mine where Rissa’s nameplate has already been removed. The finality of it hits me again, leaving a hollow ache in my chest.

I kill the engine and sit for a moment, suddenly exhausted. All I want is to kick off my shoes, pour a gin martini, and curl up with Leo and Zeke on the couch. Maybe order takeout so I don’t have to think about cooking.

Ignoring the guards, I head inside.

The front door shuts behind me with a soft click that echoes through the foyer. My boots thump against the marble floor as I make my way inside, the sound bouncing off high ceilings and pristine walls. The mansion still feels too big, too grand—like I’m playing dress-up in someone else’s life. But it’s home now, has been for months since that night Gio tried to kill me.

Home. The word sits strangely in my mind, weighted with so much meaning. This isn’t the life I had pictured for myself, but I have everything I ever truly wanted. My marriage is unconventional but it’s real and loving. Leo may not be my son by birth, but I’m still experiencing all the best parts of parenting.

I feel blessed despite the tragedies that brought me to this place in life.

I pause to kick off my boots, wiggling my toes in relief. Today was brutal—a mountain of paperwork, clearing old case files, a tearful goodbye to my partner and friend, followed by the captain informing me that my new partner starts on Monday.

God, I don’t want a new partner. All I want is a hot bath, a stiff drink, and maybe …

The murmur of voices from Zeke’s office stops me mid-thought. One is definitely my husband—I’d know that deep rumble anywhere—but the other …

My spine stiffens as recognition hits.Nicolo Moretti. That explains the unfamiliar guards and line of black sedans.

He was at our wedding, though I was too drunk and nervous then to really process his presence. All I remember is Zeke’s tension, the way his jaw clenched from the moment Nicolo appeared.

I consider my options. I could slip upstairs unnoticed, pretend I didn’t hear anything. Let Zeke handle whatever business brought the head of the New York mafia to our home.

But curiosity—or maybe stupidity—wins out. I find myself moving toward the office, drawn by some inexplicable need to understand this part of Zeke’s world that he tries so hard to keep separate from our life together.

The door is cracked open, spilling warm lamplight into the hallway. I pause just outside, listening.

“… not what we agreed to.” Nicolo’s voice is as smooth as aged whiskey, cultured in a way that makes the underlying threat more menacing. “The Columbus families were under my protection.”

“They threatened what’s mine.” Zeke’s reply is cold, controlled. “You taught me that. Never tolerate a threat to the family.”

“Ah, yes, the famous mafia family code.” A soft chuckle leaves him and it raises the hair on my neck. “Tell me, how is married life treating you? Your bride seems … spirited.”

Something crashes—probably Zeke’s fist hitting his desk. “Leave her out of this.”

“Now how can I do that when she’s standing right outside?”

Shit. I freeze, caught between fight and flight as Nicolo calls out, “Please, join us Mrs. King. We were just discussing you.”

Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and step into the office. The familiar space feels different tonight, charged with an undercurrent of danger that makes my pulse quicken.