Chapter Twenty
MILA
Iwoke with dull pain radiating from several places across my body.
My throat felt tight when I swallowed, and my shoulder protested when I reached for my phone.
Tenderness flared along my ribs when I twisted.
A faint ache pulsed at the base of my skull where it had met metal.
For a second, I could still feel Logan’s hand fisted in my shirt.
But there were good parts to yesterday. Not everything was bad.
Luke and I connected on an even deeper level than we ever had before.
Not something physical but a commitment that went far beyond that.
The vow in the rink still lingered, unfurling a warmth in my chest that superseded the aches competing for attention.
That glow I was feeling lasted until my screen lit up with a number I didn’t recognize and a message that promised more consequences in cold, deliberate phrasing.
Distance would be smarter.
There was no threat spelled out or a signature. Just implication. My stomach dropped, but I didn’t freeze. I forwarded the message immediately to Edwardo.
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
Edwardo: Stay upstairs.
My door opened less than thirty seconds later. Edwardo stepped inside without knocking. He wasn’t in gym clothes. He was already dressed for the day, jaw set, phone pressed to his ear.
“Dominick,” he muttered, pacing once toward my window. “Trace it. Now.”
His voice wasn’t angry. It was procedural. Protocol. He ended the call and looked at me fully.
“Did you respond?”
“No.”
“Good.” His gaze tracked briefly over my shoulder, noting the faint stiffness in how I stood. “Are you in pain?”
“I’m fine.”
He didn’t argue. “Get dressed and come downstairs.”
When we entered the kitchen, Mom was already there, hands wrapped around a mug she wasn’t drinking from. Her gaze snagged on the bruise at my collarbone before jumping to meet my eyes.
Her face paled when she took me in. “What now?”
I handed her my phone.
Her mouth pressed into a line as she read. “This isn’t a prank.”
“No.”
Edwardo’s phone buzzed again, and he listened before responding. The number was disposable, routed twice before it reached me. Whoever sent it understood how to blur a trail.
Mom closed her eyes briefly. “They’re applying pressure outside the school.”
“Then they miscalculated.”
Within twenty minutes, a dark Mercedes idled discreetly two houses down from our rental. The engine hummed low and steady. Another parked across the street an hour later. I recognized the cars as mafia immediately.
Mom tried to maintain normalcy at the table. She failed. “This is because of yesterday,” she pressed quietly. “You didn’t step back from Luke?”
“No. I didn’t step away,” I answered. “And they expected me to.” I couldn’t shake the image of Elise in the hallway outside the art room, her gaze lingering a fraction too long before she turned away.
Logan hadn’t known I was alone by accident.
I couldn’t prove it. But I didn’t believe in coincidence anymore.
Edwardo leaned one hand on the counter. “They’re testing your response,” he said. “If fear makes you distance yourself from Luke, they stop here. If it doesn’t, they increase it in another way.”
“It won’t.”
His eyes met mine. Searching. “You’ll tell Luke.”
“I will.”
Mom’s voice softened, though the fear underneath it didn’t disappear. “You’re not alone in this.”
“I know.” But I also knew something else.
If I pulled away now, the message would have worked.
I texted Luke and told him about the message from the unknown number, that Edwardo had already traced it as far as he could, and that additional security was outside the house. I made it clear it wasn’t random.
The reply came before I locked my screen.
Luke: I’m coming over.
Me: I’m not scared of this.
Luke: Good.
He arrived less than twenty minutes later. Edwardo met him at the door first. Luke listened while Edwardo explained what had been traced, what hadn’t, and what would happen next if the number resurfaced.
Then Luke came upstairs. He didn’t ask if I was okay. His gaze traveled slowly over every inch of me until I squirmed. He was looking for damage. I tilted my chin. “I’m not running scared from this.”
His jaw flexed. “Neither am I. They want to tear us apart,” he said evenly. “They won’t. We’re stronger than anything they can throw at us.”
I stepped closer, needing something more from him. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“No.” His hand gripped my waist, firm and steady, holding me there slightly longer than necessary. “It doesn’t,” he repeated, quieter.
Only then did he pull back slightly. “I have practice,” he continued. “And I need to stop by the house tonight for a mandated family dinner.”
“Call me after,” I told him.
“I will.”
He kissed me before he left, firm and certain, his hand warm against my waist. It didn’t ask to stay. It promised he would come back. Then the door closed behind him.
Luke
By the time I pulled into my driveway that evening, Drew and I had already spoken twice about the number that contacted Mila. He moved faster than I expected. That meant he’d been anticipating something.
That alone told me dinner wouldn’t be routine.
The house was quiet when I walked in. I moved silently through the hallway but stopped when voices drifted from my father’s study. The door was open a couple inches, and I paused to listen.
“You’ve overcorrected.” Lorne’s voice carried with controlled frustration. “Two SUVs at the school this morning owned by Dominick Ferraro. You’re inviting scrutiny.”
“You don’t get to lecture me about scrutiny,” my father returned. “You misread Dunn’s positioning.”
“This isn’t about share percentages,” Lorne snapped. “Dunn is accumulating through shell acquisitions, and your son is choosing to publicly align himself with a household tied to Ferraro. Adjacency invites federal agencies to start asking questions.”
Mila wasn’t the risk. The connections around her were.
“You think pulling back now restores control,” my father countered. “It doesn’t. It signals weakness.”
“And escalating security while Dunn is making moves invites questions we cannot afford.”
I stepped inside. They both looked at me. Lorne’s gaze assessed. My father’s hardened. “He put his hands on her.”
“And you involved yourself.”
I stepped forward slightly.
“I finished it.” My hands curled at my sides.
“If you’re suggesting I should have stood there and watched,” I continued evenly, “you don’t know me at all.”
The air turned electric. One wrong word would have detonated it.
Drew entered then, closing the door behind him with deliberate calm. “We are not turning this into a shouting match,” he said evenly. “Dunn is positioning. That is the priority.”
Lorne’s gaze hardened. “A public altercation combined with renewed attention to Ferraro is not a minor variable.”
Drew remained composed. “It becomes one if we escalate our response.”
My father’s jaw tensed. “We’re already under scrutiny.”
“Then we narrow it,” Drew replied. “Not widen it.”
“Are we done here,” I asked evenly, “or do you have more bullshit to say about my defending my girlfriend from an attack?”
Lorne’s jaw flexed.
“That’s enough,” my father cut in. The word echoed heavier than anything else in the room. He looked at Lorne first. “Dinner.” A command, not a suggestion.
Lorne exhaled through his nose and stepped back. “This isn’t over.”
“It never is,” my father replied.
Lorne left the study without another word.
My father’s attention shifted to me. “You will not create additional exposure,” he said quietly. “We handle this deliberately.”
“She was assaulted.” If protecting her created exposure, then so be it.
“And it was addressed,” he returned. “Control yourself.”
I’d heard that tone before.
He moved toward the door. “We’re done here.”
Dinner was quiet. Polite conversation layered over unfinished tension. No one referenced the attack on Mila or what I did to Logan. No one referenced Ferraro.
After dinner, Drew intercepted me in the entryway before I reached the front door.
“I looked into the number you flagged this morning,” he said. “I had it reviewed by corporate security. It was a prepaid device purchased with cash in Blackwood three days ago. It was activated once and then powered down.”
“So there’s no name attached to it?”
“No. There won’t be.”
I held his gaze. “Then what does that actually give you?”
“It gives me documentation,” he replied. “The number is logged. The purchase batch is logged. If it resurfaces or connects to anything else, it triggers a formal response.”
“What kind of response?”
“One that does not stay inside a school hallway.”
That was clear enough. “You’re building a file.”
“I’m establishing a record,” he corrected. “If this continues, it becomes actionable.”
I stepped closer. “You don’t get to operate around her without telling me.”
His expression remained steady. “I am not operating around her. I am ensuring that whoever initiated contact understands there will be consequences if it happens again.” A brief pause. “For now, it has stopped.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t like the way he said that. I left the house and drove straight to Mila’s.
I needed to talk to her. Not over the phone. Not through a text. In front of me.
The message had been deliberate. And whoever had done it wouldn’t stop after one attempt.
The threat wasn’t random. Which meant the next move wouldn’t be either. And this time, I wasn’t certain we would see it coming.