“Does she know?”
Clara’s skin prickled.
Leo said nothing.
The prisoner laughed again, weaker this time.
“She doesn’t. Look at her face.”
Clara looked at Leo.
“What is he talking about?”
Leo did not answer.
The prisoner leaned forward, savoring the moment with a dying man’s cruelty.
“You think they wanted him dead because of territory? Money? Guns?” He spat again. “No, sweetheart. They shot him because of the prophecy.”
Clara stared.
“The what?”
Owen whispered, “This is getting really weird.”
Leo’s voice cut through the room. “Enough.”
But the prisoner was smiling now, delirious with blood loss and spite.
“The Salvatore line ends with a woman of rare blood. That’s what the old witch said. A woman who gives blood, takes the crown, and buries the wolf.”
Nico struck him across the face.
The prisoner collapsed sideways, unconscious.
Silence filled the apartment.
Rain rattled the window.
Clara turned slowly toward Leo.
“Please tell me the mafia does not have prophecies.”
Owen let out a nervous laugh. “Honestly, that’s where I draw the line too.”
Leo’s eyes remained on the unconscious man.
“Old families have old stories.”
“Is that why you want to marry me?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
He looked at her then.
Clara wished he had lied. A lie would have been easier than the careful silence in his face.
“It is one reason,” he said.
Her breath left her.
Owen stood. “Absolutely not.”
Clara barely heard him.
A woman of rare blood.
Gives blood.
Takes the crown.
Buries the wolf.
“What wolf?” she asked.
“The Lupos,” Matteo said quietly from the doorway. “Lupo means wolf.”
Clara laughed once. It was a broken sound.
“This is insane. This is all insane.”
Leo stepped closer.
“I did not believe in it.”
“But now?”
“Now my enemies do.”
“That’s not an answer.”
His gaze dropped briefly to the bruise on her arm.
“Now you are standing in front of me after saving me from a wound no one survives, while the Lupos risk exposure to take your brother before sunrise.”
Clara shook her head.
“No. No crown. No wolves. No marriage. I’m a waitress. I have rent due.”
“Not anymore.”
“I decide that.”
“You do,” Leo said.
The room went still.
Clara blinked.
“What?”
“You decide.”
She searched his face for the trap.
Leo reached into his coat and removed a folded document. He placed it on the table.
“Your debts are paid. Owen has an appointment tomorrow morning with Dr. Elias Venn, the best cardiac specialist in the state. Your landlord has been bought out. The building is being repaired.”
Clara stared at the paper like it might bite.
“I didn’t agree to anything.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because I owe you.”
Her throat tightened despite herself. She hated him for that too. For making gratitude possible in the middle of terror.
Leo continued, “You can refuse me. You can try to go back to your life. But the Lupos will not forget you. Neither will my people. Neither will the men inside my own house who think a waitress has no place near power.”
“What happens if I accept?”
His eyes held hers.
“You and Owen move into my home tonight. Publicly, you become my fiancée within the week. Privately, we determine who sold your name, who ordered the attack, and why the Lupos believe you are the key to ending my family.”
