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But somehow, my voice finds its way out, small, but steady.

“I don’t want easy, Ares.” He blinks, watching me. “I want real.” I draw in a quick breath to steady myself. “Messy. Complicated. Only yours. ”

His eyes narrow slightly, and I see it, that flicker of emotion he’s too used to burying. The one he only ever lets me see.

“So, if this gets harder…” I keep going, my thumb tracing the edge of his collarbone, “if the world keeps trying to pull us apart, I want you to know something.” I brush my fingers along his bearded jaw, holding his gaze steadily.

“I’ll fight too. You won’t be the only one bleeding for this.”

And for a moment, he just stares at me like I’ve said something he’s never heard in his life. Then, quietly, barely above a breath he replies.

“You don’t bleed for me. Not in this life. I’ll carry the weight; I’ll draw the line. You stay behind me.”

I shake my head slowly as I lean in closer. “No, not behind...I’ll stand beside you. Always .” I press my lips to his, slow, sure, sealing the promise. Ares groans the moment my lips touch his, and readily responds to kiss before rolling me over onto my back and covers my body with his.

“I’ve fought wars, Jordyn. Been to hell and back more times than I can count. And nothing, nothing , has ever undone me the way you do.”

I smile with mock innocence, eyes gleaming. “Oh no… did I break the big bad Reaper ?”

Ares lets out a quiet, low laugh, the kind that vibrates through his chest and sends a ripple of heat down my spine.

His eyes darken, that dangerous edge curling at the corners of his mouth.

“You didn’t break me, bambina,” he growls, voice low and wrecked as he grabs both my wrists and presses them above my head, pinning them hard to the floor.

His delightful body cages mine, heavy, unrelenting, eyes locked on mine like I’m the only thing that exists.

“You claimed me. Branded me. Fucking rewired me from the inside out.”

His breath grazes my lips. “And now I’m going to spend every fucking second proving that your body is the only heaven I’ll ever believe in.”

The sun hangs low outside, casting long golden streaks through the windows of the manor as I trail my fingers along the banister, half-lost in thought. There’s a stillness in the air, one of those loaded silences that makes the whole house feel like it’s holding its breath.

That’s when I hear it.

“Miss Windslow.”

I stop mid-step and glance up.

One of the house staff stands at the end of the corridor, hands folded, expression unreadable.

“Don Luciano would like to see you in his office.”

My stomach twists, sharp and sudden. I nod without a word and begin the familiar walk down the hall, each step heavier than the last. I don’t know why, but it feels final, like I’m about to cross an invisible line I won’t be able to uncross.

Luciano’s office door is open.

He’s standing with his back to me, staring out the tall window that overlooks the grounds. The room is quiet. The only sound is the faint clink of glass as he pours himself a drink. He doesn’t turn when I enter.

“Sit,” he orders. “Close the door behind you.”

I push it shut, the click echoing like a sentence passed.

Then I sit, spine straight, shoulders tight despite the twist in my stomach. He finally looks at me, cool and unreadable, like a man who’s seen too much to waste time pretending.

“I’m not in the habit of having personal conversations, Jordyn,” Luciano begins, folding his fingers together over the folders on his desk, “but we seem to have arrived at… an impediment.” He says the word like it offends him.

I don’t respond. I wait.

“I imagine you’re feeling rather triumphant after last night.”

“I, no, that’s not?—

He lifts a hand, silencing me with a single motion. Evidently, he’s not interested in anything I have to say.

“Don’t. This isn’t about guilt or pride. This is about consequence.”

There’s something in his tone, something that prickles the back of my neck. Not warmth. Not quite disdain either. Just... assessment. Like he’s not seeing me as a person, but as a variable in a much larger equation.

He sits, folding his hands again. “Let’s not pretend we don’t understand each other, Jordyn.”

My brows pull together, but I stay quiet.

“Ares is loyal to this family. To me. And with loyalty comes duty.” He pauses. “That duty includes marrying Giana Mancini. You understand the significance of that, don’t you?”

My throat dries, but I manage a nod. His eyes narrow slightly.

“Do you love him?”

I hesitate, then answer. “Yes.”

Luciano exhales through his nose. Almost like a laugh, but there’s no humour in it. Only warning.

His eyes sharpen, cool, calculating, razor precise. He studies me in silence before finally speaking again.

“And I can see that he cares for you.” He pauses. “Far more than he should.”

My spine stiffens.

“You think that’s a compliment,” he says, voice low. “It’s not. It’s a weakness. And in this world, weakness gets you killed.”

I swallow, but he doesn’t let up.

“Ares has a future. One I’ve bled for. Fought for. Groomed him for. He wasn’t bred for softness. He was built to rule through fear, not feel. With a name like Russo, there’s no room for love.”

His voice dips, low and final.

“You’re not part of that future, Jordyn. No matter how hard you both try to convince yourselves otherwise.”

I flinch, barely, but of course, he sees it.

“Despite my warnings, he’s defied me twice. Once in private. Last night, publicly. He turned down an alliance with the Mancini’s, an alliance sealed by marriage. Do you understand what that costs us?” His voice remains calm. Measured. “Respect. Leverage. Power.”

I try to speak, but again, he raises his hand.

“You’re young. And I don’t doubt your feelings are real. But real doesn’t matter when it draws blood to your doorstep.”

“Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not here to threaten you,” he continues.

“I’m here to tell you the truth. Ares choosing you puts a target on his back.

Refusing the Mancini’s? Publicly humiliating their daughter?

That wasn’t just emotional, it was political.

” His voice hardens. “You think love is enough to survive that?”

He leans forward, his gaze sharp. “If you truly care about Ares, if you love him like you say, you’ll do the right thing and walk away. Before you become the reason he’s buried.”

The silence that follows is thick, stifling.

“Ares is reckless when it comes to you.” He swirls the drink in his glass, eyes fixed elsewhere. “He ignores logic. Disobeys orders. Forgets who he is, what he was made for.” Then his eyes return to mine. Cold. Unflinching.

“And I understand the appeal. You’re young. You’re beautiful. Untouched by all this... rot.” He gestures faintly to the room. “But that’s exactly what makes you dangerous. You make him want out. You make him believe he can live a life that isn’t steeped in blood.”

Luciano leans forward, hands folded again. Steel creeps back into his voice.

“He cannot. Ares Russo doesn’t get to dream. He doesn’t get to choose. Not if he wants to survive.”

A pause. “Not if we do.”

His words land like a blow, sharp and hideous.

“This family, our name, rests on men like Ares doing what they’re told. Marrying who they’re told. Bleeding when necessary. Loving, if permitted.” His smile is thin. “You think I haven’t seen what’s happening between you? You think I’m blind?”

He tilts his head.

“You weren’t raised for this life, Jordyn. You weren’t trained for it. And you’re not ready for what loving a man like him will cost you.” He lets the words settle like ash. “Or what it will cost him?”

His tone softens, not kindly, but with a quiet finality that cuts deeper than rage. “I’ve watched boys like him burn for girls like you. And I’ve buried both before the year was out.” He stands, drink still in hand, his gaze drifting to the far wall.

“You think this is just about a marriage. A girl. A boy defying his father.”

He turns, meeting my eyes once more. “It’s not.”

He lifts his glass, tapping the rim with the ring on his finger.

“Ares was never meant to stay in the shadows. I’ve spent years shaping him into something more. Something this island hasn’t seen in decades.”

My brows knit, but he only smiles, and there’s nothing warm in it.

“You wouldn’t understand the title. But simply put, he’s meant to be the man every other man answers to.” A pause. “The one who wears the crown… even if it’s made of knives.”

A chill snakes down my spine.

“But he can’t wear it if he’s distracted by softness. By sentiment. By you .”

My stomach churns, nausea clawing up my throat.

“Ares and Giana will marry. It’s not a possibility, it’s an inevitability. They’ll have an heir. And my son will become the head of this family. Capo dei Capi.”

He takes a step toward me, voice quiet but unmistakably final.

“You have two choices, Jordyn. You can walk away and allow him to fulfil what he was born for...”

I lift my chin. “Or what?”

His smile is slow, chilling .

“Or you stay… and watch how quickly love turns to ruin in a world like his.”

The silence stretches long after he finishes. His warning hangs in the air, thick and suffocating, like smoke after a fire.

I could let it sink in.

I could nod, thank him for his time, and leave the way he clearly expects me to, small, silenced, scared.

But I don’t.

Instead, I sit up a little straighter, lift my chin, and look him square in the eyes.

“You’re right about one thing.” My voice is steady, even though my heart is thundering. “I wasn’t raised for this world.”

His gaze sharpens, but I don’t stop. “I didn’t grow up with blood on my hands or enemies at the gate. I wasn’t trained to see love as a liability or silence as power.” I draw in a breath. “But I do know what it means to fight for someone.”

Luciano doesn’t speak. He watches me with that same unreadable expression, like I’m being measured for a casket or a crown.

“You say Ares forgets who he is when he’s with me. But maybe he remembers. Maybe I’m the only thing that makes him feel like more than just your weapon.”

I notice his jaw grinding, just a little. I lean forward, my voice soft, but certain.

“You want me to let him go because it’s convenient. Because it keeps the world you built intact. But if you think I’m going to walk away from the man I love just to make your legacy easier to manage, then you’ve underestimated me.”

Luciano’s eyes narrow. Something flickers in them, but it vanishes too quickly for me to catch it.

“You think love is a weakness?” I whisper. “Watch what it makes me do.”

I stand.

Not in anger.

Not in fear.

Just with a calm that feels earned, held together by threads and defiance. My fingers close around the door handle, pulse still thrumming in my ears.

Then, as I begin to turn it, “You remind me of someone.”

His voice stops me cold.

It’s laced with something that makes the air thinner and blood run colder.

“She believed love could save a man like Ares too. Thought she could tame the fire, soften the sharp edges. Make him human again.”

There’s a pause. I don’t move.

“Her name was Seraphina.” Another beat. “She was… persistent. Just like you.”

I don’t breathe.

“And then one day, she was gone.” His voice is quieter now, more reflective, but sharp.

“No note. No goodbye. Just… vanished. Some say she ran. Others whisper about darker things.” He leans back in his chair.

“But it doesn’t really matter, does it? Because she left.

Despite him making her all the promises to burn down the world.

..she eventually saw his world for what it is and fled. ”

My throat tightens as I swallow past the dryness, the weight of his words clinging to the back of my tongue. “You’ll follow her path soon enough, Jordyn,” Luciano says, lifting his glass with effortless calm. His fingers rest loosely around the rim. “There’s only so much he can shield you from.”

I don’t respond. I just open the door before my voice can betray me.

But even as I step out into the corridor, his words trail after me, quiet as breath, heavy as fate. They cling to me like shadows I can’t shake.

I shut the door behind me and lean against it for a moment, just breathing. Trying to shake the weight of Luciano’s words. But they cling to me, under my skin, in my lungs, like smoke that won’t clear.

I push off the door and turn toward the bed and freeze.

A single long-stemmed white rose lies across my pillow.

Perfect. Pale. Still dewy like it was just cut.

I blink. Once. Twice.

My heartbeat stutters. There’s something beneath it, tucked just under the curve of the stem.

A card.

My skin turns to ice. Slowly, I step closer. There’s something beneath it, a card. Heavy stock. Black. No ink. No handwriting.

Just words. In red , pressed into the paper like a brand.

Tick, tock, the hour bleeds,

Soft white roses hide sharp needs.

Tick, tock, I’ll make you mine,

Not with chains, but with time.

Tick, tock, the world will see,

He chose war.

You’ll choose me .

I stare at it...the message carved in silence, pressed deep like a secret meant only for me.

Not just a warning.

A declaration .

And someone made it into my room to deliver it personally.