Page 33 of The Silent War

“I should let you get back to it,” I said, standing slowly. “Enjoy your dinner.”

Her eyes followed me. I leaned down. Pressed my lips to her cheek. Slower than I should’ve. Closer than I was allowed. Fuck the rules.

“Have a good night, Emilia.”

My wife.

My love.

Our legacy.

I leaned in, kissed her cheek. I stayed close, my lips still hovering near her cheek.

“Happy birthday, baby,” I whispered, low. So quiet it wasn’t meant for the room. Just her.

And then I pulled back.

Left her sitting there with perfect posture and a full room of wolves that didn’t even know they’d just been warned.

I walked out.

Everything I’d been bleeding through this week, it all slipped back into focus.

I hadn’t come here to win.

I came to remember.

To see her. To feel the pulse of what we built this for. And I’d gotten exactly what I needed.

I stepped into the alley behind the restaurant, lit a cigarette my hands no longer shaking with rage.

Because one day soon, I wouldn’t be saying good night to my wife.

I’d be climbing into bed with her. We’d be fucking her to sleep. Kissing the back of her neck. Holding her between us until she couldn’t remember what it was like to sleep alone.

And she’d be curled between me and Luca, wrecked and worshipped, exactly where she belonged

Between us.

Ours.

But that wouldn’t happen, if we didn’t own this city.

I took one final drag, exhaled, and grabbed my phone.

I messaged her security. Told them to create an excuse, take her home. Our girl was getting a headache she needed sleep. Not to keep entertaining those fuckers, who I had every intention of putting in the ground if they got any closer.

Then I called Rome back, stepped into traffic like I owned the pavement, and rejoined the war that never stopped.

But this time?

I was refueled.

And now reminded exactly why I planned to burn the world down just to put her back in our bed.

Chapter Twelve

LUCA