Chapter 136
KATYA POV
I swallowed hard—once—before fitting the mask into place. The straps clicked quietly as I fastened them behind my head.
The transformation wasn’t dramatic. Just final. One second, I was . The next, I was the version of that my enemies expected.
I glanced toward the mirror again. The mask split my reflection sharply down the middle, dividing the man from the myth.
Dividing the damage I carried on my skin from the damage I carried everywhere else.
For a mont, I just stared. Not at the scars. Not at the mask.
At my eyes.
They looked exhausted. Older. Like yesterday had slapped years onto . Maybe it had. "Get it together," I muttered under my breath. "You don’t have ti to fall apart."
Not now. Not ever. I turned away from the mirror and brushed the last of the water from my hair, letting it fall ssily across my forehead.
My steps were steady but slow as I crossed the room, grabbed my watch, and slipped it onto my wrist.
Ho office.Work. Distraction.
Anything to keep my mind from replaying Nonna’s tears or the way her voice cracked when she said she wouldn’t survive losing .
I reached for the door handle, pausing just a second before pulling it open.
Today wasn’t going to be simple. Nothing ever was. I stepped into the hallway, letting the door click shut behind , and headed straight for my office—already feeling the weight of the day settling on my shoulders.
The walk to my office felt longer than usual.Maybe because my head was still too loud.
Either way, I pushed open the door with more force than necessary, letting it swing wide before I stepped inside.
The familiar scent of leather-bound chair, gun oil, and polished wood t instantly—sharp, grounding, predictable and exactly what I needed.
I crossed the room without turning on the lights. The morning sun cut through the tall windows anyway, slicing the office into gold and shadow.
My shadow trailed behind , long and distorted, the mask making it look even less human. I dropped into the chair behind my desk, exhaling slowly.
Work. Yes. Numbers, reports, territory updates—everything that didn’t ask questions or cry or break apart in front of .
I spotted my cigarettes pack, it’s been so long I smoked, since waking up from that disgraceful coma, I hadn’t touched smokes, thanks to my nonna who eradicated my safe, making sure I don’t see it nor think of taking a drag.
So seeing one on my desk all of a sudden was surprising, a knock interrupted , before Antonio’s head poked open my door.
He slipped inside fully, shutting the door behind him with his usual quiet efficiency. I didn’t speak. Just lifted the pack between two fingers and raised a brow.
"Your doing?" I asked, voice low. Not accusing. Just stating a fact I already knew.
Antonio didn’t even pretend to be innocent. He shrugged once, hands in his pockets. I huffed a breath—sothing between annoyance and amusent—and tapped one cigarette out.
I lit it, took a slow drag, let the smoke rest in my chest for a heartbeat before exhaling through my nose.
"I thought you agreed with Nonna about my smoking habit," I said flatly. Antonio leaned his shoulder against the wall. "I did," he answered.
"And I still do." He paused, lowering his voice as if he was talking to himself more than to . "But... after yesterday..."
The last part was whispered, barely audible and I blew out another stream of smoke, pretending I hadn’t heard him at all.
Pretending the word yesterday didn’t feel like a bruise pressed too hard. My eyes stayed on the smoke drifting upward, curling like a lazy ghost in the still morning air.
"Updates. On yesterday." I said finally. Antonio straightened subtly. Professional mode.
"Boris," I clarified.
Because that was the real na behind everything. Behind the bruises. Behind Nonna’s panic.
Behind my frustration. Behind the fact that today felt heavier than most. Antonio’s expression hardened. "We found sothing."
I tapped ash into the tray, jaw tightening slightly."Good," I muttered. "Start talking."
Antonio stepped forward, sliding a thin folder onto my desk. "He left traces behind. Not enough to pin him, but enough to know he didn’t get far. One of our guys heard he’s hiding with a smaller group outside the city line."
I took another slow drag, letting the smoke drift before crushing the cigarette into the tray.
"Good. Next ti, we’re finishing it."
Antonio nodded once. "Next ti, it will be successful."He turned as if to leave, hand already on the doorknob. But sothing made speak.
"Old man?." He stopped, glancing over his shoulder. "Bring a list of eligible won from powerful families. Preferably within our circles. Allies. Old ties. Anyone strong enough to matter."
Antonio blinked. Once. Twice. "Roo... what?"
I raised a brow. "You heard ."
He moved back into the room slowly, like he wasn’t sure if I was joking or losing my mind. "I didn’t want to ask earlier because I know how you behave," he said carefully, "but... how are you?"
"I’m good," I answered imdiately, adjusting the papers on my desk. "Just finding a wife now."
"That’s not what I’m asking." His tone sharpened, cutting through the air.
I didn’t look up. "I said I’m good."
Antonio let out a breath that sounded way too much like disbelief. "Classic," he muttered. "Deflect everything serious and pretend you’re bulletproof."
I shot him a warning look. He ignored it.
"So let’s talk about this sudden wife situation," he continued, crossing his arms. "Isn’t this... fast? And unlike you? Yesterday wasn’t easy, Roo. Are you sure making a list of potential brides is the thing you should be doing right now?"
"I don’t give a damn about love," I said bluntly. "And if I’m going to marry, it will be soone from a powerful family. Soone the business can benefit from. Soone who brings leverage."
Antonio sighed loudly. "Of course. Nothing says emotional stability like turning marriage into a trade agreent."
"It is a trade," I snapped. "Everything in our world is a trade. You think I’m looking for flowers and poetry? I need soone useful. Strong. Soone who understands the life we’re in."
"And you think that will actually fix anything?"
"It’ll make Nonna happy," I said. "And that’s enough."
Antonio’s expression softened—not fully, just enough for to notice. "Roo... she doesn’t want you to marry for her sake. She wants you to be okay."
"I am okay." The words felt heavier than they should.
Antonio gave a look that said he didn’t believe a single syllable. But he didn’t push it. He knew when to stop.
"Fine," he said finally. "I’ll get your list. But you’re not choosing anyone until I talk sense into you at least twice."
I snorted. "Good luck with that." He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he headed for the door again.
I leaned back in my chair, eyes drifting to the sunlight slicing through the blinds.
A wife. A family. A future that never felt ant for soone like .
But if Nonna wanted it... Then I’d make it happen. Even if the idea twisted sothing uncomfortable inside my chest.
††
Alright, who’s going to be the female lol
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