Page 24 of Obsidian Devotion

"I've confirmed it through three separate sources." Lorenzo's eyes are flat, devoid of the warmth I've glimpsed in our private moments. "He's guilty."

I swallow hard. "Okay. So why am I here?"

Lorenzo retrieves a gun from his desk drawer. He checks the chamber with practiced ease before extending it to me, grip first.

"Handle it," he says.

The weight of the gun feels alien in my palm. Wrong. I've held firearms before—Carlos insisted I learn—but I’ve never practiced intending to execute a helpless man.

"Problem?" Lorenzo's voice carries a dangerous edge as I hesitate. His eyes narrow. "You said yourself that sometimes getting your hands dirty is necessary. Were those just empty words?"

Rodriguez begs in broken English, tears cutting clean tracks through the blood on his face. "Please, miss. I have children. Three little girls. Please."

I tighten my fingers around the gun, willing them not to tremble. Is this a test? A trap? Or Lorenzo bringing me deeper into his world?

"If you're going to be part of this world—part of my world—I need to know you can do what's necessary," Lorenzo says, his expression unreadable.

I raise the gun, aiming between Rodriguez’s eyes. My finger hovers near the trigger as a war rages inside me.

Carlos would want me to maintain my cover at all costs. But this man has children. Little girls who will become orphans with one squeeze of my finger.

Could I live with that?

Lorenzo observes my internal struggle, then takes the gun from my trembling hands. Relief floods through me, only to freeze into horror as he speaks again.

"It was a test." His voice is soft. "If you had pulled that trigger without hesitation, I'd have known you weren't who you claimed to be."

Before I can process his words, Lorenzo raises the gun and fires a single shot. Rodriguez crumples to the floor, the back of his skull painting the expensive carpet red.

I flinch at the sound, at the spray of warm blood that mists my face. At that moment, I realize Lorenzo's suspicions run deeper than I thought. This wasn't just a test of my ability to kill—he was looking for something else.

“You think I don’t recognize someone trained to kill?” Lorenzo tucks the gun into his waistband. "It becomes instinct. Automatic. You hesitated because it's not in your nature. Not yet."

His hand cups my cheek, thumb wiping away a speck of blood. "That's what I like about you, Sofia. You're still... clean."

The next day, I'm opening the bar when my phone rings.

Carlos.

I glance around before answering, moving to a quiet corner.

"What did I tell you about calling me at work?" I hiss.

"Is that any way to greet family?" Carlos's voice drips with sarcasm. "You've been distant, Sofia, darling. Is something changing?"

"Nothing's changed," I snap, but the lie tastes sour.

"Good. Because I'd hate to remind you why you're there." His tone hardens. "Your brother's face when they sent back his body—you remember that, don't you? How they carved Lorenzo's initials into his chest while he was still breathing?"

Bile rises in my throat. "I remember."

"Then listen. Lorenzo has an arms deal tonight. He's meeting with a military official from a neighboring country—advanced weapons, big money. This deal would boost the Bellanti's firepower."

I grip the phone tighter. "What does that have to do with me?"

"You're going to make sure he doesn't make that meeting," Carlos states. "If Lorenzo doesn't show, the official will feel disrespected. The deal will fall through. The Bellanti's reputation takes a hit, and rival families seize the opportunity."

"And how am I supposed to stop him?" I ask.

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