Page 31 of Unholy Night
"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 familyoperates 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."
For a long moment, nobody moves. The silence is so complete I can hear snow sliding off the roof, Tomas's controlled breathing behind me, my own heart thundering. Domenico studies me with those sharp green eyes, and I can see him weighing my life in real time. Measuring risks and benefits. Deciding if I'm an asset or a liability to be eliminated.
His hand moves to his coat, and for a moment I think he's reaching for a weapon. Instead, he pulls out a phone, shows methe screen. Security footage from last night—me shooting the Santos soldiers, me covering Tomas and Leonardo's retreat.
"Three kills. Clean shots. While defending family." He pockets the phone. "That's not a prosecutor. That's a soldier."
He extends his hand. Not to Tomas. To me.
I look at his hand. Manicured, bearing a single gold ring, steady as stone. This is my crossroads. Take his hand and seal my transformation from prosecutor to protector of the very people I once hunted. Refuse, and those comments about disappearing permanently become prophecy.
But there's no real choice. There hasn't been since I woke up in Tomas's bed, since I picked up his gun and defended him. Since I chose him over every principle I once held sacred. Since he called me his wife with a gun pressed to his cousin's temple.
"Silent Night" hums through my lips, just three notes before I catch myself.
Domenico extends his hand. Behind me, Tomas's breathing stops. I don't hesitate. I take Domenico's hand, shaking it firmly. His hand is cool, dry, the ring cool against my palm. A handshake between equals. Not prisoner and captor, not family and outsider, but two professionals acknowledging mutual benefit.
His grip tightens just before release, enough to feel the power there, the casual strength that could crush bones.
"You understand what this means?" he asks, not releasing my hand yet. The words carry weight, finality. "There's no walking away from this. No crisis of conscience that sends you running back to your old life. You're either with us completely, or you're nothing at all."
Behind me, Tomas's hand presses harder against my back, and I can feel his heart racing through our connection.
"I understand."
He releases my hand, and something fundamental shifts in the room's atmosphere. The arctic chill of his presence warms just a fraction.
"Welcome to the family, Natalie."
The words ring through the room, carrying more weight than any oath I've ever sworn in court.
"But understand," Domenico continues, his voice dropping to something lethal, "family lawyers don't just argue cases. Sometimes they prevent them. Sometimes that means knowing where bodies are buried. Sometimes it means helping bury them." He pauses, letting that sink in. "Leonardo will test you. Others will doubt you. You'll prove yourself, or you'll prove Leonardo right about prosecutors being problems."
