With a shift of her hand, she tugged gently at the edge of her bodice, just beneath her left arm, revealing the glint of a slim switchblade nestled in a hidden sheath.

Arabella returned his smile, genuine now. Matteo had been her shadow, her shield, and—though few knew it—her closest friend. Since that day ten years ago, when she had survived the massacre that stole her mother, he had never left her side.

It was Matteo who had pulled her from the wreckage. Matteo who had insisted she learn to fight, to shoot, to run if she had to. While other girls in the Famiglia were learning how to host luncheons and smile pretty at Sunday dinners, she was disassembling firearms and memorizing contingency codes. In secret, the two of them had built an unbreakable system—escape plans, safe houses, hand signals, codes spoken in passing, each one designed for a world where loyalty couldn't always be trusted.

He had prepared her for every kind of misfortune he could imagine. Because in this world, imagination was often the difference between life and death.

"I'm not worried about tonight," Arabella murmured as she approached him. "But Serena... she's still furious. She doesn't want Gabriele."