Behind me, I hear Jordyn suck in a sharp breath.

I turn and find her staring at me like she doesn’t know what to say, like she’s looking at a stranger in a body she’s kissed. I drop to my knees in front of her, blood still wet on my hands, and start untying the cords from her wrists.

She doesn’t speak. Her eyes are wide, but not with fear. Something colder.

Realisation. Because she’s seeing him now.

Il Mietitore.

Not the man who touches her softly in the morning. But the one who ends men in silence.

“Ti ho preso, bambina.” I murmur, my voice low as I catch her wrists gently. She nods, but her gaze lingers on the corpse behind me as I pull her close and press a kiss to her temple.

The drive back home is silent.

Jordyn hasn’t said a word. Not since the warehouse. Not since I cut her free.

She sat curled in the passenger seat, arms wrapped around her knees, her face turned to the window like she needed to keep something inside from spilling out.

I took the SUV, and Dante’s following close behind with my bike.

When we pull up to the villa, she gets out before the engine finishes humming. Her steps are unsteady, but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t look back.

I let her go. She heads for the stairs, toward my bedroom. Her safe place. The one corner of the world I made hers.

I don’t follow.

I stay by the door, rubbing the dried blood from my hands like it’ll change anything. I need to give her space, space to breathe, to unravel, to try to make sense of everything that just happened.

I should’ve listened to my gut and gone with her.

Because then I hear it. The scream. Raw and ripped from her throat.

It slices through me like a blade.

Before I can breathe, my gun is drawn and I’m running before I even realise, I’ve moved.

Up the stairs. Down the hall, I burst into the bedroom and, Fuck.

The copper stench hits first. And my heart drops out of my chest.

Then I see Jordyn, on the floor, folded in on herself, her hands over her mouth, her breath coming in shattered pieces.

And the bed. Blood-slicked sheets. Grey fur matted dark.

Ladro.

Slaughtered like a warning and laid out like an offering. My stomach turns. I stare, silent and still, even as my fists curl. But it’s the wall that steals the air from my lungs.

Above the headboard, painted in Ladro’s blood with cruel, deliberate strokes. “One pet down. One lover to go.”

I don’t move for a second.

Because if I do, I’ll destroy this entire fucking house.

Jordyn lets out a choked sob, and it rips me out of the trance.

I drop to my knees beside her and pull her into me, tight, grounding, fierce, because I don’t know what else to do. Because I should’ve been here. Because he had the balls to walk straight into my world.

Into my home.

Into my fucking house .

He stepped past my walls, my alarms, my guards, like they were nothing. Like I’m nothing. He killed our cat. Not because he had to. But because he could . Because he wanted to send a message not just to her… but to me .

Nicolai didn’t just rattle the cage.

He stepped inside and pissed on everything I love.

I stand at the window, staring out into the dark, the city humming low in the distance.

Behind me, Dante pours a drink neither of us really wants. He sets it down untouched on the table between us and exhales through his nose.

“She’s safe,” he says. “Shaken, but no physical harm. Meds are wearing off. She’s resting.”

I nod once. The tension in my chest doesn’t ease.

Because this isn’t over.

Because it wasn’t meant to be over.

Dante walks to the table and drops the file. Surveillance footage. Body ID. Vehicle registration. All of it tied up in a neat, lethal bow.

“He didn’t resist,” Dante says, every word stiff with restraint. “Didn’t try to fight you. Didn’t try to run.”

“I noticed.”

He lifts a brow. “You know what that means, right?”

I don’t answer, because I do. It was a performance. A calculated message.

Dante sits on the edge of the desk, arms folded. Watching me.

“Nicolai knew you’d come,” he says. “Hell, I think he counted on it. This wasn’t about hurting her, not yet anyway.”

My hands curl into fists at my sides.

“He wanted you to see what he’s capable of. That he could take her. That he can get inside your world. Your walls. Your head.”

I look over at him. “He succeeded.”

Dante nods slowly. “Yeah. But he didn’t just want to provoke you. He wanted to get inside her head, too.”

I don’t move, don’t breathe so he continues.

“Think about it. No bruises. No chains. No scars. He could’ve made a statement with pain. He didn’t. Instead, he went for the cat.”

“Why though?”

“Because he’s trying to soften her first ,” Dante says, his voice cold. “Instill fear. Make her question her safety, her place, her strength. And worst of all, you. ”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“This isn’t about hurting, Jordyn. He’s going to try to win her. Not through violence, but manipulation. Seduction. He’s playing the long game.”

Dante nods again. “You’re not just in a war for territory anymore, Ares. You’re in a war for her mind .”

A long silence hangs between us.

Then I speak, words like ice through my teeth.

“Then I’ll remind him, slowly, violently , that she was never his to want.”