Knowledge is not armor.It’s a blindfold.And blind men have a habit of walking straight into things they never should have.
Behind us, the two sedans roll in and park, engines cutting out one after the other, doors opening with the kind of cold, unhurried discipline that separates my men from every other crew in this city.Twelve men who have been ready for this since before the sun came up.
I button my jacket over the gun, straighten my cuffs, then step out into the morning.
Across the lot, Luca Serrano climbs out of his vehicle and clocks it immediately.Every man.Every position.The math of it landing on his face, in real time.
To his credit, he doesn’t miss a beat.He rolls his shoulders back and moves forward with the arrogance of someone who has never in his life been made to feel small.A grin cuts across his mouth.
“Sharing information exclusively with the Serranos.”He lets that sit, lets it breathe.“Touching, really, given that we are family now.”
I say nothing.
He keeps walking anyway, because men raised by monsters never learned the difference between confidence and stupidity.Three of his guys fan out behind him.Four more hold their positions near the vehicle, hands loose, watching.
My men spread wider.The lot rearranges itself without a word spoken.
I let him close the distance before speaking.
“You were at my house,” I say, keeping my voice even.“You put your hands on my wife.”
Something shifts behind his eyes, just for a second.
“She is my sister,” he says, as easy as breathing.“I can visit whenever I like.She is used to men coming and going.”
He talks about his own sister as if she were something men pass around, and he’s merely keeping track of the rotation.The casual filth of it, the ease with which it leaves his mouth, hits me, and every single cell in my body turns to gasoline.
I step forward.One step.That’s enough.
Luca glances at my men and has the audacity to look amused.
“Relax.”His gaze slides back to mine.“You are not the first man to think he found something worth keeping in her, Lorenzo.She has a gift for that.Always has.Making men feel like they are holding something precious.”
The smile that follows is slow, poisonous, and meant to wound.“The truth is, she has been warming beds since before you ever laid eyes on her.You just happened to be the one who put a ring on it.”
The temperature across the lot drops by ten degrees.
“You are talking about my fucking wife,” I say quietly.“She is a De Luca now.”
Luca’s mouth twists into something that is almost, but not quite, a smile.“And yet she is still a Serrano.She will always be a Serrano.That doesn’t change just because you put a ring on her.”
“No.”
I reach out and take him by the throat before the word leaves my mouth, fingers closing around his throat with the kind of pressure that makes a man suddenly very aware of how many things in his body require air to function.
Black rage moves through me like a tide, and I don’t hide a single drop of it.I let it settle on my face, let him read every last fucking word of it up close.
His men surge forward, but mine are already there, outnumbering his.
“I’m only going to say this once.”I keep my voice low, quiet enough that the men at the edges have to lean into the silence to catch it, because the most dangerous things I have ever said have always been the ones I didn’t need to raise my voice to say.“You will never touch Isabella again.You will never fucking call her, summon her, corner her, threaten her, or use her as a channel to get to me.Neither will your father.”
Luca looks up at me from inside my grip, throat working against my fingers, and has the audacity to smile.
“And if we do?”
“Then I will fucking kill you.”
His smile doesn’t even falter.He just rolls it into a contemptuous laugh, as if he finds the whole thing mildly entertaining.“You think you can dictate terms to the Serranos when the De Luca’s are in ruin?You really have let her make you sentimental, Lorenzo.”