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Francesca paces, still in her bloodstained gown, looking every inch the warrior queen despite her evident distress.

"I need to be there," she says. "He'll respond to me."

"Out of the question," I reply immediately. "I'm not putting you anywhere near Volkov territory."

Her eyes flash dangerously. "He's my brother!"

"And you're my wife!" I counter, the volume rising in my voice. "You took a blood oath. Your life is bound to mine now. I won't risk it, not even for your brother."

She steps closer, her finger jabbing my chest. "You said thingschanged. That I'm not your possession but your partner. Your queen. Or was that all bullshit again, Dante?"

The challenge hangs between us, loaded with implications that extend far beyond this immediate crisis. Her trust in me, in us, balancing on the knife edge of my response.

My phone vibrates again before I can answer. A message from a secure number I recognize instantly.

Nico.

The text contains only an address. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I show it to Francesca, whose expression shifts from anger to confusion.

"He knows," I tell her. "Somehow, he already knows about Antonio."

"It could be another trap," she warns, concern creasing her brow. "Like I warned you about in Rome."

"Possibly," I acknowledge. "But it's our only lead."

I turn to Marco. "Prepare a security detail. Full tactical gear. I want snipers on surrounding buildings and a medical team on standby."

"For Antonio?" Francesca asks.

"Yes. Or whoever else needs it," I respond grimly.

I dismiss my team with a sharp gesture, needing a moment alone with Francesca before we step into whatever trap awaits us. When the room clears, I turn to find her standing by the window, arms crossed protectively over her chest.

"I'm going with you," she says before I can speak, voice leaving no room for argument. "I don't care what you say about risk. I need to be there with you."

I cross to her, hands finding her shoulders to turn her gently toward me. "Francesca... this isn't about control. You know that, right?"

Her eyes meet mine, the fear for her brother evident beneath her defiance. "Then what is it about?"

"It's about what I said on that yacht," I admit, the words still unfamiliar on my tongue. "It's about me loving you too much to let you walk into danger."

Something softens in her expression, but the determination remains. "And if our positions were reversed? If it were Nico being held, would you stay behind while I negotiated?"

Her logic is fucking impeccable, as always. This brilliant, beautiful woman who matches me in ways I never imagined possible.

"Never," I concede. "I would tear apart anyone who tried to stop me."

"Then don't ask me to be less of a human being than you would be," she counters, placing her hand over my heart. "This isn't about me or you. It's about Antonio being my blood."

"You could be hurt," I say, the thought physically painful after everything we've survived together. "Or worse."

Her smile is sad but determined. "And you could get yourself killed trying to protect me, leaving me alone with only a vile of your blood and a shattered heart. We're both taking risks, Dante. But we take them together now."

I pause, taking a moment to really let her words hit deep.

"You would miss me if I was gone?" I ask, my voice sounding absolutely foreign.