Page 33 of Pietro

The question lands like a punch. "I don't."

"Bullshit."

"Watch yourself, Liam."

"I'm watching you throw away years of caution over a woman you've known for days." His voice remains steady, professional. "A woman who appeared right when the Irish started making moves."

"You think she's connected?"

"I think coincidences make me nervous."

I drain my glass, setting it down harder than necessary. "Keep digging. And find out who was asking about her."

"Already on it."

I hang up, turning to the window.

Liam's right. I want her. And that makes her the most dangerous person in the world.

NORA

I lock the bathroom door at the Sartori estate, my hands trembling as I pull out the burner phone. The marble and gold fixtures mock me with their opulence while I dial the only number I've memorized.

Three rings. Four.

"Hello?" Uncle Finn's voice, rough with sleep or whiskey or both.

"It's me." I keep my voice low, running water in the massive sink to mask the conversation.

"Jesus Christ, Nora. Are you okay? Why didn't you call?"

"Am I okay?" I hiss into the phone. "You sent me to work for Pietro fucking Sartori. The Sartoris who are at war with Connor O'Sullivan. Your brother and my father. You knew that and you still told me to do so. And I couldn’t call because I’m terrified by the idea that they might have put microphones in my apartment."

Silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken truths.

"Half-brother," he finally says. "And we haven't spoken in fifteen years."

"That's not the point." I press my forehead against the cool mirror. "Why, Finn? Why not just give me money to disappear? Why send me straight into the lion's den?"

Water circles the drain, like my options, like my sanity.

"Because money runs out, Nora. And Declan would never stop looking." His voice softens. "The Sartoris are the only family in Chicago powerful enough to keep you safe if Declan finds you."

"Safe?" I laugh, the sound brittle even to my own ears. "A man held a gun to my head yesterday. If Pietro hadn't been there?—"

"But he was there, wasn't he?" Finn interrupts. "And now you're under his protection."

My fingers touch the fading bruises on my throat. "How did you know that?"

"I have my sources." He pauses. "Listen to me, Nora. I have a plan, but it takes time. For now, you're safer with the Sartoris than anywhere else."

"What plan? Tell me."

"Not yet. Not over the phone." His voice drops lower. "Trust me, little fox. Have I ever let you down?"

The childhood nickname hits me like a punch. Mom used to call me that—her clever little fox. After she died, Finn was the only one who kept it alive.

"No," I admit. "But you've never thrown me to the wolves before either."