“One.”
“Bring him.”
Clara took a step forward. “What about Owen?”
Matteo looked at her, then at Leo.
“The boy is safe. Shaken, but safe.”
The floor seemed to loosen under Clara’s feet.
Leo moved before she fell.
His hand closed around her elbow, steadying her. His touch was warm. Firm. Too careful to be accidental.
She jerked away.
“Don’t.”
He released her immediately.
Something flickered in his eyes, too fast to read.
“I’m taking you to him,” Leo said.
“You just said no.”
“The situation changed.”
“What situation? What is happening?”
Leo’s face became the face of the man the city feared.
“War,” he said.
The apartment building looked smaller with black cars surrounding it.
Clara pushed past Matteo the second the car stopped. She ran up the cracked stairs, ignoring the men posted in the lobby and at the hallway. Her key shook in her hand so badly she dropped it twice.
“Owen!”
He was on the couch with a blanket around his shoulders and a Salvatore guard standing by the window.
When Owen saw her, he bolted up.
“Clara!”
She grabbed him so tightly he wheezed.
“Sorry,” she whispered, loosening her hold. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”
“What’s going on? There were men outside, and then these other guys came, and one had a gun, and then—”
“Don’t.” She cupped his face. “Just breathe.”
His gaze moved over her shoulder.
Leo had entered the apartment.
Everything in the room seemed embarrassed by him: the stained curtains, the chipped table, the thrift-store lamp, the sagging couch. He took it all in without expression.
Owen stiffened.
“Who are you?”
Clara moved instinctively between them.
“No one.”
Leo’s eyes met hers.
“Owen,” he said, “I am Leo Salvatore.”
Owen’s face went white.
Even sick teenage boys knew that name.
Clara turned on Leo. “Was that necessary?”
“Yes.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“He needs to understand the danger.”
“He needs to not have an asthma attack.”
Owen looked between them. Even terrified, his mind worked fast.
“You’re the guy from the hospital,” he said.
Clara’s silence answered for her.
Owen stared at his sister. “You saved Leo Salvatore?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Clara.”
“I didn’t know.”
Leo stepped forward. “Your sister saved my life. That has consequences.”
Owen’s fear shifted into anger.
“She doesn’t owe you anything.”
“No,” Leo said. “I owe her.”
“Then leave us alone.”
“I cannot.”
Owen’s thin shoulders squared. “Why?”
“Because men came here tonight to take you.”
Clara closed her eyes.
Owen looked at her.
She had spent years hiding the worst of the world from him. Bills. Threats. Doctors’ warnings. Her own hunger. But some truths entered like smoke beneath a door. You could not keep them out forever.
“Who?” Owen asked.
Leo answered. “The Lupo family. My rivals.”
“Why would they care about us?”
“Because your sister’s blood is in my veins.”
Owen blinked. “That’s stupid.”
“Yes,” Clara said.
Leo looked at her. “It is symbolic.”
“That’s stupider.”
For one impossible second, Owen almost smiled.
Then a groan came from the hallway.
Clara turned.
Two Salvatore men dragged a bloodied man into the apartment and dropped him onto his knees. His face was swollen. One eye had sealed shut. He spat red onto Clara’s floor.
“Hey!” Clara snapped. “Not on the rug.”
Everyone looked at her.
She looked back. “It’s a bad rug, but it’s mine.”
Leo’s mouth twitched.
Then he crouched before the prisoner.
The atmosphere changed again.
The man on the floor tried to sneer, but fear made it crooked.
“Salvatore.”
“Who sent you?” Leo asked.
“Go to hell.”
Leo sighed.
He did not raise his voice. He did not threaten. He simply looked tired of the ritual.
“Nico.”
Nico stepped forward.
Clara caught the flash of metal.
“No,” she said.
Leo held up one hand.
Nico stopped.
Clara’s pulse hammered. “Not here. Not in front of my brother.”
Leo turned his head slightly.
The prisoner saw it. His good eye shifted toward Clara with sudden interest.
“Oh,” he rasped. “That’s her.”
Leo went very still.
The prisoner smiled through bloody teeth.
“The little donor girl.”
Clara felt Owen move behind her.
Leo stood.
“What did your boss tell you?” he asked.
The man laughed. “That the dead king woke up thirsty. That he’d hunt for the girl like some fairy tale prince.”
Leo’s expression did not change, but every guard in the room seemed to brace.
The prisoner’s gaze crawled over Clara.
