My dad runs Arlencia's underworld. He's the Accardi Don—untouchable.

Zeke's dad used to be his Soldato. Took a bullet for him once. Got rich off the favor. Still kissed my dad's ring every time he saw him.

And now Zeke thinks he can pin me to the floor?

He's asking to die.

My rage flared. "Zeke, my dad slapped a tracker on me. I set it off, his men show up in three minutes. You wanna test that?"

Jella marched over, all smug. "A tracker? What is this, mafia fanfic?"

So I bit her. Hard.

"Ahh! You psycho—she bit me!"

Blood ran down her hand. She shrieked.

I spat. "Damn right, I did."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "You saw that, Zeke! She's insane! You show up and she still goes for me? She clearly doesn't respect you."

Zeke's face darkened. He wrapped her hand with a cloth, eyes locked on me. "Threaten me, fine. But hurt my girl right in front of me? Cute. Your family couldn't touch mine even if you begged."

Then he turned to her. "Do what you want. Strip her. Kill her. Doesn't matter. It's on me."

Jella lit up. "Isn't she dying to wear a wedding dress? Fine—strip her bare and let the whole street watch her get dressed for the show."

She kicked me.

Pain ripped through my ribs.

"See what happens when you mess with me?"

Around us, people sighed.

"Told her not to cross the Santoros. Look at her now."

"Yeah, Arlencia's their turf. Only the Accardis can touch them."

Jella snapped her fingers. "You two—strip her and throw her out!"

The guards lunged for my shirt.

I yelled, "Zeke, stop them! I'm Natalia Accardi! Victor Accardi's daughter! You really wanna go through with this? You'll regret it!"

"Stop," Zeke said.

Jella gasped. "Zeke?! Don't let her fool you—she's just some cra—"

"I'm not fooled," he said flat. "Her lie's almost as funny as calling me broke."

Zeke walked over, grabbed my chin. "Natalia Accardi? Cute. You know the name, but you don't even look the part. Next time, try dressing like you didn't crawl out of a bargain bin.

"I was gonna end this, but then you disrespected Ms. Accardi in public. If Don Victor heard that, my dad would be screwed."

He looked at his men. "Back off. I'll handle her. Record it—send it to Don Victor. Call it me doing him a favor."

Then he slammed me down. Hard.

"Apologize to Jella. Now."

"Don't touch me! You're gonna regret this!"

He pressed harder. My spine lit up in pain.

Jella rushed over, tearing at my clothes—face twisted with glee. Then she grabbed a shard of glass.

Before she could strike, a group of guards burst in. "Mr. Santoro! Dozens of men in black just showed up. Our guys tried to stop them—they got dropped in seconds! Should we pull back?!"

His men were losing it. Zeke didn't flinch. "No. I'm finishing this first."

He nodded at Jella. "I've got her. Do what you want."

Jella grinned.

My vision blurred. She raised the shard—

The windows exploded.

Men in black flooded the room like a storm.

Their leader—a middle-aged man—stepped forward and kicked Zeke clean across the floor.

"Forgive us, signorina. We're late. Please... punish us."