Page 37 of Lone Wolf

“The Boss is gonna squeeze that guy for every bit of intel on the Mancini operations in Chicago,” Vanessa adds, tossing her longdark hair over her shoulder. “I bet we’ll find the rest of their trafficking spots.”

I slow my pace, watching from the edge of the group. Under normal circumstances, I’d be right in there, celebrating with them, cracking jokes. But nothing about tonight feels normal.

I scan the room and find Ariadne standing alone by the far wall, her posture rigid. She’s changed into fresh clothes, her hair still damp from a shower, but there’s a tension in her shoulders that I can see even from here. A few recruits glance her way, then quickly look away, their expressions uneasy.

One whispers to another, “They say she went full Grandmother psycho on those guys at the warehouse.”

“I heard she stabbed one of them, like, thirty fuckin’ times,” the other replies, voice lowered. “Just lost it completely.”

Something twists in my gut. That was me, not her.I’mthe one who lost control. I’m the one who stabbed a man long after he was dead. I’m the one who couldn’t stop, who was freaking out and?—

“Hey, Sunny!” Enzo calls, noticing me hovering at the edge of the crowd. “Get over here! You hear about how Vanessa disarmed some big guy twice her size?”

I force a smile that feels like it might crack my face. “Sounds badass,” I agree, moving closer to the group but keeping my distance from their celebratory energy.

“Damn straight,” Vanessa preens, clearly enjoying the attention. “But seriously, you did good work too, Santiago. Hadria said you were the one who found the women.”

“Well,” I say, my smile feeling more fragile by the second. “We all did our part.”

“Except Frostbite over there,” Matty says in a low voice, jerking his head toward Ariadne. “She went off-script. Heard Hadria’s thinking about putting her on lockdown with that other Grandmother psycho they brought back from Vegas.”

The others murmur agreement, but I can’t stand to hear any more. “I need a shower before the debrief,” I mumble, pushing past them toward the hallway.

As I pass Ariadne, our eyes meet briefly. Her gaze is unreadable, but something passes between us—an understanding, a shared secret—and I quickly look away, afraid of what my own eyes might reveal.

The hot water of the shower washes away the blood but not the memory of what I did. I scrub my skin until it’s raw, watching the reddish-brown water swirl down the drain. My mind keeps replaying the moment in that warehouse—the rage that overtook me, the surge of something primal and unstoppable.

I scared myself.

But I don’t think I scared Ariadne. And I don’t know how to feel about that.

When I finally emerge, dressed in clean sweatpants and a tank top, the dormitory sounds emptier. Probably most of them have gone early to the mansion for the debrief or to find food. I should join them, but I need a moment to pull myself together, to rebuild my façade before seeing all of them again.

I make it halfway to my room when a hand grabs my arm, pulling me into an empty side corridor. I react instinctively,twisting out of the grip and spinning into a defensive stance—only to find myself face-to-face with Ariadne.

Her eyes are intense, searching mine with a focus that pins me in place. “We need to talk,” she says, her voice low and urgent. “Now.”

“I don’t think?—”

“Not here.” She pulls me on toward my dorm room. I could resist, but something in her manner—not cold, not calculating, but genuinely concerned—makes me follow.

Once inside my small room, she closes the door and stands in front of it, arms crossed. I move to sit on the edge of my bed, suddenly exhausted.

“What is it?” I ask, though I already know.

“You know exactly what this is about.” She doesn’t raise her voice, but the intensity of her gaze increases. “What happened in that warehouse?”

“You were there,” I say, trying to sound casual. “You saw what happened: I eliminated a threat.”

“I saw you lose control.” Her words are cutting. “I saw you kill a man long after he was dead. I want to knowwhy.”

“Does it matter? You already took the blame.” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice. “Why would you do that? Why would you…protect me?”

“So you admit you needed protection?” I say nothing. “Answer the question, Santiago.” She steps closer, looming over me. “What was your stake in all this? And don’t lie to me. You’re a shitty liar.”

I stare up at her, at those blue eyes that see too much. Part of me wants to deflect, to throw up my walls and push her away with a joke or a smile. But I’m too tired, too raw from everything that’s happened. I couldn’t smile if my life depended on it.

“Fine,” I say, standing up to face her. “You want to know? I’ll tell you. But it doesn’t leave this room.”

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