Chapter 10 Natalie
I’m wearing a clean shirt of Tomas’s when the black SUVs arrive, but I can still feel the blood on my hands. Six kills yesterday. Six men whose blood I can still taste despite the coffee burning my throat.
My fingers tighten on the cool mug. The cabin reeks of bleach and burnt flesh despite the pine branches I scattered this morning, trying to mask what we did in the dark. Twenty bodies burned before dawn, and now our judge arrives.
Three vehicles move in perfect formation up the mountain road. Through the broken windows from yesterday's battle, I can hear their engines purring smoothly.
"He's here," Tomas says from behind me, voice flat with resignation.
I don't need to ask who. Leonardo warned us Domenico was coming, bringing his solutions. We've been waiting, knowing this moment would arrive with the same inevitability as winter dawn.
The bodies are gone, every trace erased as Tomas promised.
But I know where to look, can still see the faint impressions in the snow where we dragged them after Leonardo left, the places where heat from the pyre melted then refroze the ground.
Tomas and I worked through the night, making evidence of my transformation disappear into ash.
My shoulders still scream from the weight of dead men, blisters on my palms beneath the bandages from gripping the shovel too hard.
"You could still run," Tomas says, but we both know it's not really an option. Not anymore. His hand finds my shoulder, and I feel him wince. His own wound from yesterday still angry beneath fresh bandages.
I set down the mug and straighten my spine, feeling steel replace the fear trying to creep in.
The fabric of his shirt hangs loose on me, smelling like him.
Beneath it, my body aches in places that have nothing to do with hauling bodies.
Phantom sensations from how desperately we came together after the killing, like we could fuck the death away.
"All I Want for Christmas is You" hums through my lips, barely audible.
"I'm not running." I turn to face him, seeing my own exhaustion reflected in his dark eyes. "Not from you. Not from this."
His jaw tightens. "Natalie, you don't understand what Domenico is capable of."
"I understand enough." My voice comes out steadier than I expect, though I taste copper fear on my tongue. "I understand that Leonardo told him everything."
The SUVs stop outside, doors opening in synchronized precision. Through the window, I count five men. Two bodyguards flanking Domenico, two more taking defensive positions by the vehicles. The fifth man, Domenico himself, stands perfectly still in the snow, surveying his domain.
Even from here, I can feel the power radiating from him.
The temperature in the cabin seems to drop ten degrees just from his proximity.
This is what real authority looks like. Not the borrowed power of a prosecutor's office, but the kind that comes from generations of taking what you want and keeping it.
"Whatever happens," Tomas says, moving closer, his body heat reminding me I'm still alive, still his, "remember that I chose this. Chose you."
I reach for his hand, lacing our fingers together. His skin is warm against mine, solid, real.
The front door opens without a knock. Of course. Men like Domenico don't knock. They simply enter, and the world bends to accommodate them.
Domenico Rosetti enters my life the same way winter enters a room. Sudden, overwhelming, stealing all warmth.
He's taller than I expected, broader through the shoulders than Tomas, wearing a coat of obvious quality.
His eyes are sharp green, like broken glass catching light, assessing everything.
When they land on me, I feel stripped bare, every secret exposed.
The room fills with his presence, expensive cologne mixing with the lingering scent of death we couldn't quite scrub away.
"So you're the prosecutor," he says, voice carrying the kind of quiet that makes you lean in despite yourself.
He doesn't look at Tomas. Not once. His complete focus stays on me as he circles, predatory in his assessment.
Like a wolf evaluating prey, deciding whether to kill quickly or play first. He stops behind me, and I force myself not to turn, not to track the predator at my back.
Then he's in front again, close enough that I can smell whiskey.
"Former prosecutor," I correct, lifting my chin despite the fear crawling up my spine like ice.
"I see. Former." He reaches out suddenly, fingers catching my chin, tilting my face toward the light like he's examining merchandise. His touch is cold, clinical, but I don't flinch even as my pulse rockets. "Leonardo tells me you've had quite the career change. From hunting us to fucking us."
The crude words are deliberate, testing. I don't flinch, though the memory of Tomas inside me just hours ago makes heat crawl up my neck.
"Men say a lot of things when they're bleeding from the shoulder and dragging a wounded leg."
Something flickers in Domenico's eyes. Surprise? Amusement? It's gone before I can identify it. He releases my chin but doesn't step back.
"He also says my cousin held a gun to Leonardo's head." His voice drops, becoming deadly. The temperature drops with it. "For you."
Tomas steps forward. "Dom, let me explain."
"Did I ask you to speak?" Domenico doesn't even turn his head, keeping those sharp green eyes on me. "I'm talking to her."
The dismissal is so complete, so casual, it makes something hot flare in my chest. Tomas is trying to protect me, to take whatever punishment is coming, and Domenico won't even acknowledge him.
But Tomas's hand finds the small of my back anyway, possessive even in his silence, and I draw strength from that touch.
"You want to know what happens to people who know our business?
" Domenico continues, still studying me with that predatory intensity.
He moves closer, close enough that I have to fight not to step back.
"People who aren't family? They disappear.
Permanently. No body, no questions, no trace they ever existed. "
My heart hammers, but I force myself to maintain eye contact. This is a test. Everything about this man is a test. The melody of "Silent Night" tries to escape, but I bite my tongue to stop it.
"Then ask me," I say, my lawyerly voice surprising us both with its steadiness. "Whatever you want to know, ask me. Not him."
Domenico's eyebrows rise fractionally. "You're giving me orders?"
"I'm suggesting you get your information from the source.
" I step forward, moving around Tomas despite his grip tightening on my waist, trying to keep me behind him.
"You want to know if I'm a threat? If I can be trusted?
If I'm worth the fracture in your family?
Then evaluate me. Not your cousin's feelings about me. "
For the first time since entering, Domenico smiles. It's not a pleasant expression. It's the smile of a shark recognizing another predator.
"You've killed for him. Six men, Leonardo said."
"Six men who would have killed us first." The words taste like metal, like the blood I can still feel under my fingernails despite scrubbing them raw.
"You understand that makes you a liability? A prosecutor with blood on her hands, who knows our operations? The FBI would be very interested in turning someone like you."
"They'd be interested in trying."
He moves closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "What makes you think you can handle our world? You've spent your career trying to cage us."
The question hangs between us, weighted with threat and possibility. This time I can't stop the nervous hum from escaping, just a few notes of my carol before I catch myself.
"I've spent my career understanding exactly how you think." The words escape steadier than they should, my armor sliding on like muscle memory despite my racing heart. "The question is whether you're smart enough to use that."
Domenico's eyes narrow threateningly. Behind me, I hear Tomas's sharp intake of breath, feel his fingers flex against my spine. Ready to pull me back or push me forward, whichever keeps me alive. But I'm already moving, already shifting into the woman who never backed down in court.
"You have a problem," I continue, squaring my shoulders despite the exhaustion that wants to drag me down.
"Your family operates in shadows, always one step ahead of law enforcement.
But the game is changing. Digital surveillance, financial tracking, RICO predicates that are getting harder to avoid.
You need someone who understands the system from the inside. "
"We have lawyers."
"You have defenders. People who react after you're already in trouble.
" I take another step forward, close enough now to see the calculation in his eyes.
"I'm offering something different. I know how prosecutors build cases.
I know what triggers investigations, what patterns they look for, what makes them back off. "
"You're offering to betray your former colleagues?"
The word 'betray' sits heavy in my chest.
"I'm offering to be your legal counsel." The words taste strange in my mouth, like ash, but not wrong. "To use my knowledge of the system to keep you invisible inside it. I spent months tracking your family's finances. I know exactly where you're vulnerable and how to shore up those weaknesses."
Domenico stares at me. "The angel wants to play the devil's advocate?"
"I'd rather be the devil's advocate than God's fool." The truth of it surprises me, settling into my bones like it was always there. "At least devils keep their bargains. At least they're honest about what they are."