The warehouse was still smoking when they arrived.
Charred steel. Acrid air. And a red smear of paint on what was left of the wall:
"We see your flame. We'll burn it."
Leon's jaw tightened.
They knew about Ayla.
⸻
Nico kept his voice low. "It's the Vorelli crew. We've been pushing into their ports."
"They retaliate by threatening a girl?" Leon snapped. "Cowards."
"Smart cowards. You've never had a weakness before."
Leon's eyes darkened. "I still don't."
⸻
Back at the penthouse, he found Ayla waiting by the window again, trying to pretend she wasn't scared.
He could read it in her fingers, clenched too tightly.
In her breathing—too shallow, too fast.
"You should've told me the truth from the beginning," she said quietly.
"I was trying to keep you safe."
"And now?"
Leon stepped closer.
"Now I'm going to keep you mine."
⸻
He placed something around her neck—a thin chain with a small obsidian pendant.
"What is it?" she whispered.
"A warning."
"To who?"
"Anyone watching."