Chapter 31

• The cold sea air clung to Kieran’s skin as they retreated from the docks, victorious but not untouched. Her knuckles ached from gripping her weapon too tightly, and her pulse still raced with the remnants of adrenaline.
• Beside her, Isandro moved with the smooth grace of a predator, every line of his body tense but controlled. The weight of their shared success and the danger that still loomed hung between them like a live wire.
• They didn’t speak as they climbed into the black SUV waiting near the warehouse. Nico and a few of their men followed behind in a second vehicle. The world outside the window blurred: neon lights, shuttered businesses, a city that never truly slept, not even when soaked in blood.
• When they reached the safehouse an abandoned brownstone deep in neutral territory Kieran finally exhaled. The door slammed shut behind them, muffling the distant hum of sirens.
• “We need to debrief,” she said softly, stripping off her leather gloves. Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled.
• Isandro stepped closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Later.”
• Their gazes locked.
• Later wasn't an option.
• Kieran’s breath caught as Isandro took another step toward her, the distance between them closing fast. The room felt smaller, the air heavier, thick with unspoken words and the raw, lingering edge of survival.
• “We can’t keep doing this,” Kieran murmured, her voice low but shaky. “This back and forth.”
• Isandro’s lips twitched into something almost soft almost. “You’re right,” he said, his voice dark velvet. “But we’ve already crossed the line, haven’t we?”
• Her heart thundered. She should have pulled away. Should have kept her guard up. But the brutal honesty of the night of the fight, the blood, the trust they’d shown each other had cracked something open between them. Something she couldn’t patch back together.
• When his fingers brushed her jaw, her breath hitched audibly. His touch was surprisingly gentle, as if she might shatter if he moved too fast. The battle-hardened mafia prince with death in his veins… treating her like glass.
• And for reasons she couldn’t explain, it undid her completely.
• “Tell me to stop,” Isandro murmured, his eyes searching hers, voice low, rough.
• Kieran didn’t speak.
• She leaned in instead.
• The kiss exploded between them no longer careful, no longer cautious. It was hunger and heat, teeth and tongue, years of hatred tangled with something far more dangerous: want.
• Kieran's back hit the wall with a muted thud, the kiss turning feral. Isandro's hands pinned her wrists above her head, his body pressing into hers, all heat and steel. She gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue claiming hers with ruthless skill.
• This was dangerous. This was reckless. And she wanted more.
• When he finally pulled back, both of them breathless, Kieran's eyes burned with defiance. “I’m not some fragile thing you can control,” she rasped.
• A dark smile curved his lips. “I don’t want fragile,” Isandro murmured. “I want you every dangerous, disobedient inch of you.”
• One hand tightened on her wrists, the other slid to her throat not choking, just resting, a silent reminder of the power he could wield if she let him. The gentleness in his grip, the control, sent an electric shiver through her core.
• “Say the word,” he whispered, voice like smoke. “If you want me to stop.”
• Kieran met his gaze. “Don’t stop.”
• The moment shattered into heat and need.
• Isandro spun her, pressing her chest to the wall as his hand slid down her spine, teasing, testing. His breath ghosted over the back of her neck, lips brushing her skin, teeth grazing in warning.
• “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he murmured.
• Kieran arched back against him. “Then show me.”
• Her voice was thick with challenge, but her pulse pounded with something far more vulnerable trust.
• The next minutes were a blur of sensation: leather-clad hands tearing at clothing, whispered threats and promises at her ear. Isandro’s control was absolute commanding her body with brutal tenderness, making her submit not through fear but through the sheer gravity of his dominance.
• When he finally claimed her, it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet.
• It was desperate, consuming—bodies crashing together with raw intensity, the balance of power tilting and shifting as their walls finally crumbled.
• Her moans filled the room, low and urgent, matched by the harsh sound of his breathing as he drove into her, hands gripping her hips with bruising strength. Every thrust was a battle, every kiss a surrender.
• And when they both shattered together Kieran’s nails dug into his shoulders, Isandro’s groan torn from deep in his chest. For a moment, there was nothing else. No war. No betrayal.
• Only them.
• Only this.
• They collapsed onto the worn leather sofa, limbs tangled, sweat cooling on their skin. Isandro's thumb traced lazy circles on her hip while Kieran’s breath slowly steadied.
• “This changes everything,” she murmured hoarsely, her voice soft in the quiet aftermath.
• Isandro’s lips brushed her temple. “I know.”
• Neither of them spoke for a long time. Because they both understood:
• The real war had only just begun.