Chapter Seven
LUKE
By the time Mila and I’d reached the academy steps the next morning, the tension for the night before hadn’t faded. Her hand curled into the front of my shirt, fingers hooked in the fabric just above my belt as if she’d anchored herself there without thinking.
I let her.
Her shoulder pressed against my chest, my palm warm at the small of her back beneath her sweater. My thumb moved in slow, steady arcs, not drawing attention. Just keeping her here.
Students passed us on the steps in loose waves—laughter, locker doors slamming inside, someone arguing about a quiz—but the noise blurred at the edges.
Her breathing steadied first.
She tipped her face up slightly, not enough to look at me, just enough that I could see the faint tension between her brows.
“You’re in your head,” she murmured.
I adjusted my stance automatically, angling my body so anyone coming down the steps had to look at me before they looked at her.
“So are you.”
She exhaled softly.
We stayed that way a moment longer—close enough that the world felt outside of us instead of pressing in.
Let them watch.
They didn’t get this part.
They didn’t get the way her grip tightened when a door slammed too hard. Or how I cataloged every exit without breaking conversation.
Safety wasn’t loud.
It was deliberate.
And right now, it was her hand fisted in my shirt and mine steady at her back. I could still smell her shampoo when the wind shifted—clean, faintly citrus. It didn’t match the turmoil in my head.
My thoughts ran names instead.
Darren. Ferraro. King. Leverage.
I kept my palm steady at her back, thumb moving slow and deliberate so she wouldn’t feel the way my pulse refused to settle.
She stared at the quad for a long moment, then exhaled through her nose. “Edwardo doubled down this morning.”
I kept my posture loose, gaze scanning out of habit. “Define doubled down.”
“He told my mom not to leave the house alone. Told me to text every time I changed locations.” Her mouth pressed into a line. “He used the word untouchable again.”
“Untouchable” wasn’t something said lightly. It came with a price.
“Anything specific?” I kept my voice low, calm enough that anyone watching would hear nothing but casual conversation.
Mila’s fingers flexed around the to-go coffee cup. “Edwardo mentioned a plan settling. And he told my mom not to argue with him.” A pause, then dryly, “Which, honestly, might be the most terrifying part.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of my mouth before I buried it.
Marcus had outlined the facts. On paper, Edwardo was clean. That almost made him more dangerous. He ran a gym. He trained fighters. He paid his bills in his own name.
But Monday night told me the rest. He hadn’t introduced himself. Hadn’t wasted time proving anything. “We keep them safe,” he’d said. “That’s the priority.”
No bluster. No threat implied. Just certainty. Edwardo didn’t posture. He drew a line. And men who understood his last name respected it.
Mila turned toward me, eyes narrowing in that way that meant she was lining up pieces. “You knew more than I did yesterday.”
The words weren’t an accusation. They were a statement. A measured one.
I held her gaze. “Yes.”
Her brows rose slightly. “About what, exactly?”
I could have dodged. I could have rationed information the way I always did—control the variables, protect the outcome. That instinct ran deep. It had kept me alive in rooms where men with money smiled while they sharpened knives.
But Mila had earned better than my reflex.
“Edwardo called me Monday,” I said.
Her gaze snapped to him. “About what?”
“About control,” I replied. “About making sure whatever happened next didn’t spiral.”
She went still. Not confused. Tracking.
“You were already part of it,” she concluded.
“Yes.”
“How involved?” she asked.
“I told him Dunn only understands consequences,” I answered. “He agreed.”
Her throat moved slightly. “And Ed’s stepbrother, Dominick?”
“He doesn’t posture,” I said. “He positions.”
Mila studied me. “So this isn’t just a warning parked at the curb.”
“No.”
Silence stretched between us.
“You escalated,” she said quietly.
“I calculated,” I corrected. The word sounded cleaner than it felt.
Her eyes didn’t leave mine. “Those aren’t the same thing.”
“No,” I agreed. “They’re not.”
Another pause.
“And if Dunn pushes anyway?” she asked.
“Then Dominick pushes back.”
No bravado or drama—just fact.
Her breathing slowed, and I felt the tension ease from her shoulders.
“You should’ve told me sooner,” she said.
“I should have,” I admitted.
That was it. There wasn’t a speech, just ownership.
Mila stared at the quad again, as if the grass could offer answers. “Edwardo warned me to stay where he could see me.”
“I would have told you to do the same,” I admitted.
She turned back. “And you didn’t tell me any of this yesterday because…?”
I hadn’t wanted to see fear in her eyes. I hadn’t wanted her to picture men in suits and quiet violence and doors that didn’t open again. Once you named something, it became real.
“I wanted it handled before you had to worry about it,” I replied. “And I didn’t know how you’d take it.”
Mila’s throat moved. “Blindsided,” she whispered. Then, steadier, “But I don’t feel betrayed.”
I shifted closer, lowering my voice. “I’m not keeping you in the dark.”
Her eyes searched mine. “Total honesty.”
“Total honesty,” I agreed. “Even when it’s ugly.”
A beat.
Mila’s fingers laced through mine. Warm. Certain. “Then start now. I’m still here. Don’t waste that. What are we actually doing?”
I tightened my grip once.
“We know where Dunn will be this week. Dominick will make sure they cross paths. Not accidentally. Not aggressively. Long enough for Dunn to understand who’s paying attention.”
“And Edwardo’s plan?”
“Edwardo keeps it contained,” I replied. “He controls who knows about the mob protection in place and how far it goes. Dominick shows up in public first. If Dunn misreads that, the next step happens in his office. With witnesses.”
Mila’s jaw flexed. “That’s not subtle.”
“It’s not meant to be subtle. It’s meant to be clear.”
“And the fallout?”
“Board members hear about it. Dunn loses the luxury of pretending Adriana’s isolated.”
Her breath caught slightly. “So this isn’t just intimidation.”
“No. It’s recalibration.” Plans were only clean until someone decided to bleed on them.
She studied me. “And the cost?”
“Dunn digs. He looks for leverage against us. Against my family. Against you.”
Her shoulders squared. “Fine. Let him look.”
That was my girl.
The bell cut through the air. We stood together, hands linked, and headed toward the doors.
Eyes tracked us from the steps. I felt them without looking.
The rest of the school day passed without incident.
Elise stayed in her circle and never approached us. She didn’t provoke. She didn’t perform. She watched.
That restraint told me more than a confrontation would have.
By the time I stepped into the locker room, the usual noise hit harder than normal. Gear hit the benches. Tape tore between teeth. Someone argued about music near the back corner. It was routine. Familiar.
Still, every conversation cut off half a second too early when I walked past.
Coach came in and clapped once for attention.
“High tempo today. Short shifts. I want clean transitions and hard finishes.”
We hit the ice.
The first drill focused on breakout speed. I pushed the pace deliberately, forcing the puck up ice before the lanes fully opened. If we hesitated, Coach reset the line.
Chase skated beside me after the third rep, breathing steady despite the pace.
“You’re driving this harder than usual,” he observed.
“We don’t need distractions,” I replied.
Jax joined us as we rotated out, eyes moving briefly toward the stands before returning to center. “There’s plenty of those lately.”
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.
Across the ice, Logan absorbed a check along the boards and stayed on his skates. No retaliation. No comment. He skated back into position as if nothing had happened.
Chase noticed it too. “He’s been quiet all week.”
Theo adjusted his gloves and watched Logan before answering. “That won’t last.”
Coach blew the whistle again.
“King. Take the next rotation.”
I did.
During scrimmage, I kept the shifts tight and the lines moving. No one stayed out long enough to drift. No one had room to start side conversations between plays.
During water break, Jax leaned his forearms on the boards beside me, eyes still tracking the ice.
“Logan’s been too quiet,” he said again.
I didn’t pretend not to know who he meant. “Yes.”
Chase followed my line of sight toward Logan. “Elise keeping him leashed?”
“For now,” I replied.
Theo adjusted his grip on his stick. “How long does that last?”
We’d all seen Logan absorb a hit without reacting. No shove. No chirp. No flare. Restraint wasn’t in his wheelhouse.
“Elise contains him to an extent,” I answered. “But Logan doesn’t stay contained for long.”
Jax’s jaw hardened. “You think he’ll make a move?”
“If he does,” I said, keeping my voice calm, “it won’t be random.”
Chase’s eyes flicked toward me. “And if that move is toward Mila?”
I didn’t hesitate. “He makes even the slightest move against her,” I replied, “we bury him.”
Theo nodded. “Fine. For now, we’ll just observe.”
“Yes,” I confirmed. “For now.”
Across the ice, Logan finally looked up. Not at me. At the stands. At the exit.
The leash was still on. But it wasn’t tied to us.
“He makes a move, we handle it then,” I said, even though every instinct pushed me to act first. But it wasn’t the right time. “Not before.”
Theo glanced back toward the ice. “Better to choose the moment than react to it.”
We finished the last set without anyone breaking formation.
Coach dismissed us with a short nod and a reminder about film review.
Blade guards went on, and we headed toward the tunnel. The noise of practice dissolved into the echo of the locker room.