Page 66 of Broken Honor

“Let’s go smoke some weed, brother.”

Enzo shakes his head, chuckling. “I’ll go meditate, but thanks.”

They walk out, still laughing. The door clicks shut behind them.

I glance to my side—and freeze.

Blood is dripping from the girl’s nose. A slow, dark red trail down her lip.

I unlock the cuffs with a sharp click. Her wrist drops limply to her lap, red and swollen from the pressure. I hand her a folded paper towel, and she presses it to her nose with both hands—shaky, trembling things like she isn’t sure if she’s bleeding or crying.

She doesn’t say thank you. I watch her closely.

The moment Bellandi told me to bring a woman to the dinner, a plan started forming. If the mafia wanted trust, I’d give them the illusion. They wanted a leader with roots, with family, with faith. Fine. I’d be that. I’d wear the mask.

And she—this girl with her swollen lips and dirt-streaked face—would play the part.

She’s curvy, full-bodied. Big chest, wide hips. That rosary still dangles around her wrist. Catholic. Probably raised in it. The families would eat that up. The mafia worship tradition. The more devout, the more they trust you to sin righteously.

She dabs her nose again, eyes full of water but holding back. That’s something.

“You okay?” I ask, softening my voice, feigning concern.

Her lashes flutter. “Please,” she says, voice cracking, “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused. Just… let me go.”

Goddamn it. That voice. I force the irritation down and nod slowly.

“I’m sorry too. For everything—Lune…?”

She looks up, startled. “Lunetta.”

I nod. “Right. Lunetta. This has been one big misunderstanding. I know you’re confused, scared. But this isn’t what you think.”

I can tell she doesn’t buy it. She’s not stupid. But desperation makes people want to believe lies.

“Your Nonna, the nice old lady—Carmela, right? She must be worried.” I soften my tone even more. “I’ll take you back to her.”

Her eyes fill with a dangerous kind of hope. One that makes my stomach churn.

“But you’ve got to help me first. Then I promise, I’ll return you.”

I’m not giving her back. But that hope? It’s leverage. And leverage can be very useful.

She swallows. Her lip quivers, but she doesn’t cry. Not fully.

“I just need you for a couple of days,” I murmur. “To do a few things. Then this will all be over. Okay?”

She nods faintly. And just like that, I’ve got her.

I stand. “Good. Come with me.”

I lead her out of the sitting room, ignoring the stares from the guards in the hall. This part of the house is mine alone. The most secure wing—walls reinforced, doors that only I have the codes for. My brothers wouldn’t get past the first lock unless I wanted them to. I can’t trust her with less secure rooms, I can monitor her when she is here.

She walks beside me. No fight left.

When we reach the door, I push it open and step aside. Her eyes widen. She steps in slowly, looking around like she’s wandered into a dream.

“You’ll sleep here,” I say. “Well—mine and yours.”

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