"What are you talking about?" I asked, pushing myself fully upright. My body trembled with barely restrained fury, but I kept my posture calm, deliberate.
"Don't play dumb with me," Dario hissed, the gun never wavering. Its weight trained squarely on my head.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said evenly. My gaze slid past him, towards his two men standing behind his shoulders, their guns trained on me, before returning back to Dario. "But if you're accusing me of betraying my own family without proof..." I let the words hang in the air, sharp and measured. "You know what we do to people who've committed crimes far less than that."
The silence stretched, taut and brittle, until Dario's jaw tightened and his gaze flicked, just once, to the men behind him. It was a small movement, but I caught it. Calculation, not doubt.
"Out," he said curtly, without turning. Then, more sharply, "leave us."
The men hesitated for half a breath, before one of them nodded. Boots moved across the floor, the soft rustle of fabric and metal filling the room as they filed out. The door closed behind them with a muted click that sounded far louder than it should have.
Only then did Dario exhale.
The gun lowered, slowly, as if he was still reminding himself that we were allies, still bound by blood and consequence. His thumb flicked the safety on with a quiet, decisive snap before he slid the weapon back into the holster at the waistband of his pants, practiced and controlled.
His dark eyes never leaving mine.
"He's here," he said quietly. "Isn't he?"
I didn't have time to answer.
Dario surged forward, closing the space between us in two long strides. There was murder in his eyes, raw and unfiltered. But the fear I should have felt never came. If anything, something inside me went cold and steady. I had crossed the point of caring whether I lived or died.
"You tell me where he is," he snarled, his hand lifting, angling for my throat.
I slapped his wrist aside and drew his gun from its holster in one clean motion, my instincts taking over before thought could interfere. The weight of the weapon felt natural in my hand as I brought it up between us.
Click.
The safety came off.
I pressed the barrel to his forehead, close enough to feel the heat of his skin. Dario froze instantly, his both hands lifting in slow surrender. His breath shallowed, but his dark eyes betrayed him. Shock. Then something like reluctant respect.
"Contrary to what you seem to believe," I said evenly, stepping closer until there was no space left between us, the gun never wavering, "I still want us to be partners."
I tilted my head lightly, the steel pointed at his skull unwavering.
"If I put this gun down, what I say will stay between us," I said softly, dangerously, "do I have your word, Dario?"
For a moment, he didn't move.
He just stood there with his hands raised, his eyes fixed on the barrel pressed to his forehead as if his mind was still catching up to the fact that the balance of power had shifted. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, until his jaw tightened and he let out a slow exhale.
"What do you want?" he asked at last. His voice was steadier than his eyes, flicking briefly to the gun before returning to mine.
I didn't lower the weapon. I didn't need to.
"Do I have your word?" I asked calmly.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "And what do you want in return?"
I met his gaze, unwavering, the ghost of a smile touching my lips. "Your loyalty and partnership."
Then I tipped the gun slightly, not away from him, but just enough to make the gesture deliberate. "But before I say another word," I added quietly, "I need to know something."
I held his eyes, made sure he understood the weight of it.
"Do I have your word?" I asked, my voice calm and even.
His brows knit together, confusion flickering across his face before he let out a short, sharp breath. "Fine," he said at last.
I nodded and stepped back just enough to keep a safe distance. "Good. Then listen carefully. I have an offer to make, one that keeps this fucking family intact, your men alive and him from taking everything out of my hands."
Dario let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Your hands?"
I stepped forward and pressed the barrel to his head, harder this time. He went rigid.
"Take it or leave it," I said quietly. "I can do this with or without you."
His jaw clenched.
"Alexandre already has your men under his control," I continued. "He destroyed one of our largest warehouses in New York. If he could do that, what makes you think he won't just take whatever sliver of power you have left?"
The silence that followed wasn't doubt. It was calculation.
"I could report you to your grandfather," he said coolly. "Tell him you never really killed him. That it was all a lie. That his precious granddaughter had spread her legs for him again, like a—"
I didn't let him finish.
I struck him with the gun, still in my hand. The solid weight of it cracking against the side of his head. He went down hard, the sound of his body hitting the floor. He groaned, clutching his jaw as blood seeped between his fingers.
I stood over him, breathing steady, unflinching.
"This whore," I said quietly, "is the only reason you have a future in this family."
He spat blood onto the floor, red and thick, his dark eyes burning with hatred.
"So what it's going to be?" I continued. "Are you going to help me—"
I stepped back just a fraction too slow.
His leg hooked around my ankle and yanked. The floor rushing up to me as I lost my balance, the gun flying from my grip and clattering against the side of the bed. He dragged me down with him, chaos erupting as I fought to break free, nails scraping, breath sharp and wild.
In a blink, his weight slammed down on me, ending up on top.
"You think you can kill me?" he hissed, his hands closing around my throat.
Stars were starting to bloom at the edges of my vision, but I struck him anyway. Hard and desperate, refusing to stop. He blocked one blow, but I twisted, using my legs, momentum shifting until suddenly, I was on top again. This time, my weight pinning him down.
I leaned close, breath ragged, fury burning hot and clear.
"I don't give a shit about killing you," I said through clenched teeth. "I'm offering you survival."
And this time, I knew he understood exactly how serious I was.