NICO TOOK A HIT OF his blunt, praying the weed would do its job and relax him. He prayed it would move the anger he felt out of his body, so he could focus on healing his arm and maybe the rest of him. The cold breeze that whipped around him should have turned his lips blue, but he didn’t feel much of anything anymore. He couldn’t see anything either—not the buildings he was overlooking from his seat on the balcony he was on, not the night sky with the rare star in the sky. He couldn’t get his mind to focus on the present, especially in the quiet moments. He kept going back to that night, to that meeting. He couldn’t dislodge the knife that had been plunged into his back by someone who had been his friend, his brother.

Bebo had protected him more times than he could count. Nico’s memories made it difficult to wrap his head around what happened, but when he looked down at his battered arm, saw the scars healing on his skin, and watched Dom struggle to hold on to the land of the living, Nico couldn’t deny the truth.

Bebo had betrayed them all and sentenced them to death.

“¿Qué coño te pasa?” Nico looked at his friend—no, his family—like he was staring at a stranger. Bebo’s face was twisted in anger and disgust. His grip on Natalya’s arm was tight, bruising her skin. She had blood on her, but Nico wasn’t sure if it was hers or not. They were inside before they heard the gunfire and what sounded like a bomb going off, so he wasn’t sure if she’d been hit or not, but she looked terrified.

Nico tried to give Bebo the benefit of the doubt. Prayed this wasn’t anything more than his reaction to the attack that happened outside, but that cold bite of the gun hitting Nico’s chest was a truth he couldn’t ignore.

“Bebo.” Nico heard the pain in his voice as he took a step back—though he knew the distance wasn’t going to matter. If Bebo wanted him dead, there was nothing that would stop him.

“What are you doing?” Nico was desperate for an explanation, praying Boris had threatened him—made him think there was no other choice but this. Nico knew Bebo wouldn’t switch sides on his own.

Memories of them growing up in Washington Heights played in Nico’s mind. How Bebo had taken him in when Nico’s mother loved a needle more than her own son. How they went from petty street dealers to kings in their own right. They’d been thick as thieves—always together and never faltering in loyalty. Even after Bebo had done some questionable shit, Nico had stood by his brother. It was supposed to be them against the world.

“I’m doing what you should have done, Nico.” He pulled Natalya closer to him. His grip became more possessive as he pushed her in front of his body—a shield against whatever threat Bebo saw in front of him.

“You should have taken Bruno up on his offer—given Boris what he wanted.” Bebo’s smile grew wider just as Wolf’s and Carter’s footsteps grew closer. “You don’t know it yet, Nico, but you’re all dead.” He leaned in and licked the side of Natalya’s face, cementing the thought Nico hadn’t wanted to be true.

Bebo betrayed them for the only thing Boris could offer him.

Pussy.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Natalya screamed. Fight and fury flashed in her eyes, pulling her out of the terror that had gripped her earlier. She drove her elbow into his chest either oblivious or not carrying that Bebo had a gun in his hand, but it was all the opening Nico needed.

Bebo loosened his grip on Natalya, and Nico charged for him. She dove to Nico’s left just as the sound of a gun going off had Nico stopping in his tracks. His arm burned, knocking the wind out of him.

Bebo’s manic laughter rang clear over the gunfire going on outside of Griselda’s. “You will never win, Nico. You’re too content to stay exactly where you are when there are bigger and better things out in the world.”

“Son of a bitch.” Nico shot to his feet, swinging the screen door open so hard he knocked it off its track again, which only darkened his mood. He put out the blunt and haphazardly tried to fix the screen door, but his mood was making it harder than it needed to be, and he ended up pulling the damn thing completely off the rail.

“This stupid shit,” he huffed out, trying and failing to put the door down without it shattering, but the ache in his arm caused him to drop it. He barely caught it before it tipped over and a burning pain shot through his arm. The wound where Bebo shot him hurt more in his mind than in the physical sense. It was his constant reminder that there had never been any loyalty between them.

Nico let his head fall against the screen door, hating that he was here and in this situation. A wave of grief and guilt settled inside of his chest, making it difficult to breathe. Half the Council was incapacitated. His friend, Dom, was barely hanging on thanks to Bebo. If Nico had told Dom the truth in the beginning—had been honest about Bebo’s appetite for things—Dom never would have allowed Bebo a seat on the Council. Nico wouldn’t have been able to sit on the Council either, but maybe Griselda’s would still be standing along with Dom and everyone else.

Hiding the truth from Dom—from everyone—had been something Nico thought was right at the time. He didn’t want Bebo crucified for past mistakes, especially after he changed, but Bebo never really changed. That monster Nico thought had been put to sleep had been alive and well, lurking underneath Bebo’s skin just waiting for the perfect opportunity, and Boris had given it to him.

Bebo was an addict and Boris had promised him an unlimited supply of the very drug he needed, and it cost the Council their weight in blood. They were down men—Griselda’s wasn’t the only place in the Council’s stronghold that had been turned into a pile of rubbish. Sofia was God knew where being tortured or dead.

For Sofia’s sake, I hope it’s the latter.

“Regrets are a shitty thing to hold on to, mi hermano.” Ethan’s deep voice filled the air around Nico. “Dwelling on it doesn’t change the outcome. Sofia is still missing, Dom and Carter are still laid up in my hospital, and you still got shot at for your troubles. So why do you insist on breaking my shit?”

Nico turned around to face Ethan. He’d come through for the Council. He opened his home and men to help the Council’s cause. He let the rest of the members sleep in a massive compound while Nico was holed up in one of Ethan’s many homes. While the Council hadn’t outright voted him out because of Bebo, things were still tense. Nico couldn’t walk past Smoke without an argument starting.

Ethan thought it was better for everyone to keep them separated for now. He was right, of course, but it just made the guilt Nico was carrying heavier. It was a constant reminder that while he didn’t start this war, he did nothing to neutralize someone who could be used as a pawn in the game. If they couldn’t find Sofia or if Dom didn’t make it, this was on him as much as it was on Boris and Bruno.

“Any news?” Nico asked, hoping for something that would give him something to do other than hole up here, letting his wounds fester instead of heal.

Ethan shook his head. “Not yet, and I don’t think we’re going to get any further after this either.” He rubbed his hand down his face, letting out a breath. He looked worn out and exhausted, and it was the first time Nico had seen Ethan looking less than composed—a sign of the toll this war with Boris was costing everyone.

Four weeks since Griselda’s, and they were no closer to finding Sofia. Either Boris hadn’t given his soldiers that information or they were taking the vow of loyalty to the grave a little too seriously.

Ethan and Nico stood in silence, neither one offering any false words of encouragement or sentiments. They both knew what could happen and how likely that possibility was. They had a slim to none chance of finding Sofia alive and an even slimmer chance of themselves getting out of this alive. Nico hoped for everyone’s sake that if death came calling for them, they at least took out half of Boris’ and Bruno’s men in the process.

The sound of a phone ringing broke the tense silence, and Ethan picked it up on the second ring. “Anyone talking?” Ethan didn’t waste time, and the conversation lasted for five whole seconds before he hung up. Ethan’s face hadn’t changed much, but something in his eyes had Nico’s heart pumping loudly in his chest.

“Let’s go for a ride, Nico. Maybe you need to exercise some of those demons to help you rid yourself of that guilt you’re wearing like a coat you’ve outgrown.”

Gia took apart and cleaned the guns that lay on the table in front of her. The warehouse they were in belonged to Ethan, and the air was stale and stuffy. It was relatively quiet except for the sound of a drill and the bloodcurdling screams coming through one of the cornered off sections in the warehouse. Her gaze flicked to the area blocked off by a makeshift door that Smoke all but barred her from entering. He insisted that the women—Gia especially—sit out any of the gunfights, the bloodshed, and these unique interrogation tactics. Some macho man bullshit like women weren’t capable of handling situations like this. As if their boss wasn’t a woman who would have been in that room with the rest of the men getting the answers they sought.

Thankfully, Smoke had been outvoted, even by Gia’s brother, which surprised her. Otto spent most of his time trying to keep her away from the bullshit that came with this life. She thought for sure he would have sided with Smoke and demanded she be tucked away safely with their baby sister, Natalya.

Otto knows what you’ve seen, what you’ve been through, and what you’re capable of.

The sound of drilling stopped. The warehouse dipped into an eerie silence that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She could physically feel the dark thoughts creep into her mind. She reassembled the gun she’d been cleaning, dropping it back on the table, and noticed a slight tremor in her hands.

She flexed her hands, trying to ease the tremors, but they quickly swept through her body. She closed her eyes, trying and failing to ward off what she thought was a panic attack or post-traumatic stress. Every time she took a moment to breathe, her body couldn’t process the quiet moments. It gave her mind ample opportunity to relive watching Griselda’s go up in flames with her baby sister stuck inside. Gia being shot at brought up its own fun memories she prayed to forget.

“I’ll kill you before I let you go, Gia. Do you hear me?”

Gia leaned her hands on the table, letting her head hang heavy. The sound of her breathing seemed too loud. She was fearful that the men in the makeshift room could hear her—wondering if she was finally succumbing to the death that surrounded her. That wasn’t the case—she was used to death.

“You shot me? But we’re supposed to be together. How could you, Gia?”

Her mind wrapped her past and present around her. That nightmare hadn’t come up in a while—not since Smoke had slept in her bed and he had woken her up from the recurring nightmare. She remembered waking up to Smoke’s arms wrapped around her—his whispered reassurance that he was here and she was safe. He never asked about the nightmare that plagued her in her sleeping and waking moments. He did make her promise, however, to come to him if she needed him. He’d always be there for her, no matter what.

And the very next day, he pushed her away.

Made some bullshit excuse that made her want to throttle him. He thought he was protecting her. She hated that he took that choice away from her but knew the time of the Unhinged Brother’s was limited in the city thanks to the bylaws Sofia’s father set in place. She never had any ideas about them riding off into the sunset together, despite how easy things had been between them—how safe she felt with him. Every time they were together Gia felt her body relax into his. Being around him felt like coming home after a long day, her body and mind finally learning what it meant to rest and be at peace. Gia didn’t think that sense of safety could ever exist for her, not after her ex and what happened to him.

“¿Qué haces aqui?” Gia grabbed the gun closest to her and whirled around on the newcomer. Her mind so preoccupied with Smoke and her past she didn’t register who the voice belonged to until she saw a wide grin on Ethan’s face.

“Reflejos rápidos, even though the gun’s empty.” He walked farther into the warehouse with two men whose names Gia couldn’t remember and Nico flanking him. Ethan had a large organization. He had enough soldiers to spare the Council in their quest to get Sofia back and for Ethan to still keep a stronghold on every part of the Bronx. It would have been impressive if not for the fact that Ethan could and should have dealt with Boris ages ago. It would have saved everyone the heartache and headache they were dealing with now.

Gia shrugged, putting the gun back down. “Just because you knew the gun was empty didn’t mean someone else would have, and to answer your question, why wouldn’t I be here?” she crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for the sexist comment to slip past his lips.

Smoke and Chito had all but barred her from the room they were currently torturing one of Boris’ men in because ‘such things aren’t meant for pretty women,’ or whatever Chito had told her. Gia’s Spanish was high school level at best, and she had only been able to piece together what he said based on a couple of words.

Ethan looked past her at the door where Smoke, Chito, and some other guy were behind. The sound of the drilling hadn’t come back nor did anything else, really, and Gia wondered if the guy they’d been working on had finally died.

“I just figured Smoke would have scooped you up and brought you home.” Ethan waved a hand around him. “This isn’t ideal place for—”

“If you say ‘for women,’ I’ll load this gun up and shoot you,” Gia spat. “Y’all are ridiculous. Didn’t you vote to let me and Simone into the war zone?” They were the only two who had any type of gun experience and a high level of hand-to-hand combat training that Ivy and Jade didn’t have, yet.

“Besides, last I checked Sofia, our leader, and your partner isn’t one of the boys. So how about you cut the shit, okay?” Gia grounded out. She finally got her brother to give her some breathing room and the rest of the Council—well, Smoke, really, tried to coddle her.

The sound of the door opening made her breath hitch. She knew who was coming out without having to actually turn around. She felt Smoke’s eyes on her body as if they were his own hands caressing her back, and she fought to keep her body still. The low growl that rumbled through the warehouse licked down her spine and settled right between her legs. Her blood heated, and she hated that she still had a reaction to him.

“Go home, Gia.” His tone was brutal. It damn near shook the warehouse with its force.

A normal person would have heeded the warning in his tone—or just someone who didn’t want to see Boris’ and Bruno’s dicks cut off, but all it did was enrage Gia. She hated being manhandled, especially by Smoke. It reminded her too much of the past she promised herself she would never be in again.

She turned around and marched the short distance between them. As soon as she was close enough, the air turned violent, sucking the oxygen out of the room and making Gia fight to find her breath.

Smoke glared down at her and she glared right back. She had every right to be here—this was as much her fight as theirs. If Sofia had been standing here, they wouldn’t have questioned her ability to handle what was thrown at her, but the men in Gia’s life seemed to think she needed her dragons slayed because she was too delicate to do it herself.

“Gia.” He grounded out as he stared down at her. “You don’t belong here. You shouldn’t have been at Boris’ warehouse earlier either, but I had no say in that. But this,” he brought his bloody hands eye level with her like that was supposed to do something. “This is one thing I can protect you from. Go home, Gia.”

Smoke’s voice had softened toward the end, making her mentally curse. She preferred his anger because it was easier to fight against. She heard the concern in his tone and saw it in his eyes when his gaze swept over her face. He told her about his demons once—about the blood on his hands before he found the Unhinged Brother’s. It had been meant as a cautionary tale, and when she hadn’t backed away from him, he’d been both relieved and horrified that she didn’t see a monster.

Gia knew Smoke was pushing her because he didn’t want this to taint her, but she had her own demons. Her own hands were covered in blood—albeit not the same amount but it was there. His monsters didn’t scare her; neither did this war. If Smoke was going to push, she was going to push back twice as hard.

“I’m not going anywhere, Smoke.” She kept her voice low, never taking her eyes off of him. “You want me gone, you’re going to have to make me leave. I promise you it’ll be a waste of precious time we don’t have and you’ll be sorry.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now either we can pretend like we’re getting any real information out of these men or you and I can stand here and continue to fight.”

There was a slight tick in Smoke’s jaw before he looked over her head and cursed. He abruptly turned around and went back in the room, and when he didn’t slam the door behind him, she took it as a silent victory and followed him in before he changed his mind.

The second she got a whiff of piss and feces, her victory turned sour as she took in the broken body that was chained on a cold table like a slab of meat. Her stomach rolled, but she steeled herself when she felt Smoke’s eyes on her. He was waiting for her to break—to prove him right—and while she could taste the vomit sitting in the back of her throat, she swallowed it. She refused to give these men an excuse to bar her from what was going on. She had a right to be here as much as anyone else.

Gia kept her gaze on the bruised and battered man, surprised he was still alive. His gaze slid to her, a smile grazing his bloodied face, and she watched Smoke’s body tense, felt the temperature drop as he stalked toward the man, stopping short when Chito put his hand on his bicep. Gia could see it—the murder in Smoke’s eyes. He looked every bit the man she met a couple of months ago.

The playboy.

The wildcard.

The punisher.

The crazed man who enjoyed watching others bleed.

Yet, even as he tried to slip that mask back on, the one he had shown her when they first met, she could see underneath it. He had given her the key to the lock that kept who he really was hidden, and while she wanted to give that key back after he pushed her away, she still had access to him.

Gia still saw Smoke.

Still saw the man who lay hidden beneath the layer of who he was to his crew and his reputation. Smoke may have gladly killed the man on the table for shits and giggles, but Gia knew deep down that man signed his death the moment he looked at her.

The knowledge shouldn’t have warmed her—shouldn’t have made her fight the smile that tried to appear on her face. She should have heeded the warnings Smoke had tried to throw at her in their too-short courtship—if she could call it that. All Gia could see was a man willing to kill for her, and given her past, a small part of her wished she had known Smoke then.

Smoke wanted to push her away, but he didn’t understand she’d been here before. The torture was new, but she’d been intimate with death and he couldn’t use this as a tool to get her to go home and cower under the protection of Ethan’s compound and resources. She had worn the cloak of the grim reaper just as Smoke had, and she was going to prove to everyone, including herself, she could continue to handle whatever was thrown at her.