Aria looked at Damian. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and she wanted to weep for the fear on his face. She had done that. She had made him afraid by putting herself in a position to be used by Malcolm.

By Primo.

Primo walked over to her, smoothed her hair, cupped her face in his hand. She couldn’t prevent the grimace from twisting her mouth. She didn’t want Primo touching her, didn’t want him anywhere near her.

He rested a hand gently on her shoulder, looking into her eyes. Then he backhanded her hard enough to split her lip.

Damian fired a shot into his leg.

Primo screamed, but Aria didn’t even flinch. She’d grown used to the sound of guns being fired.

She’d grown used to a lot of things.

Primo stumbled, pointed his weapon at Damian, then seemed to think better of it. He turned it on Aria, holding it to her temple. The barrel was smooth and cold.

“This isn’t my sister,” he said, his mouth close to her ear. “This is some traitorous bitch. I don’t even know her.”

She hated herself for the tears that leaked from her eyes.

Malcolm was still behind her, holding her wrists in the iron grip of his hands, his scent sour, his breathing heavy. He was too close, the meat of his body pressed against hers from behind. She was trying to keep her body away from his, twisting her arms to the point of pain to keep whatever distance she could between them.

Damian was so close. So close and so far away.

If she was going to die, she just wanted to feel his arms around her one more time.

Just one more time.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Primo screamed at Malcolm. “End this asshole!”

“I wouldn’t.”

Aria looked up to the second floor loft where Cole stood, his weapon aimed in her direction — or more specifically, at Malcolm.

* * *

Damian was surprised his hand was steady. There was nothing but rage washing through his brain, behind his eyes. He wanted to burn this fucking place to the ground. Wanted to kill Primo slowly now for hitting Aria, wanted to tear Malcolm limb from limb for daring to touch her.

He had no idea how Aria had come to be at the club. It was hard to imagine Primo — or even Malcolm — breaking the security he’d put in place at the Westchester estate, but it didn’t matter.

She was here now.

The love of his life. His greatest weakness.

They were at a standoff, Cole’s weapon pointed at Malcolm, Primo’s pointed at Aria, Damian’s pointed at Primo.

All while Malcolm had the most dangerous weapon of all in his hands.

Aria — the one thing Damian would never risk.

He tried to see the chessboard. Aria, his queen, everyone else a pawn to be used to save her.

“This is a losing situation,” Damian said. “If you hurt Aria — either of you — you’re dead seconds later. Cole will put a bullet in Malcolm’s brain, and I’ll have the honor of finishing you, Primo.”

He looked at Malcolm as he talked. Primo wasn’t a man of reason. He might kill Aria and then himself just for the hell of it. Just to prove a point.

But Malcolm hadn’t come this far with a madman like Primo because he was crazy. No, he’d used Primo’s madness, had calculated that it gave him an advantage in building an empire of his own, one he could take over after Primo’s inevitable demise.

Malcolm didn’t care about Primo. He didn’t even really care what happened to Aria. She was just a piece on his chessboard.

A disposable one.

“You know it’s true,” he said to Malcolm. “Do you want to die for this crazy bastard?”

Damian had to hand it to him: Malcolm’s expression was unreadable, not a trace of indecision on his narrow face. Damian kept talking, forcing his voice to remain dispassionate, the voice of a negotiator rather than a man under threat of losing the woman he loved.

“No one is coming to save you,” Damian said. “At this very minute, every operation you run is under assault. You can either live or you can die here. The choice is yours. Everything else has already been decided.”

“Why are you listening to him?” Primo screeched. “You work for me. You do what I say, remember?”

Malcolm gave Aria a shove and started backing for the door.

Aria stumbled toward Damian. He forced himself not to look at her face and check her for injury. He shoved her behind him instead.

Then everything fell apart.

* * *

Damian had tried to shield her behind his body, but she could see enough to know that Primo was raising his weapon. She saw the barrel of it swing up, linger on her face behind Damian’s shoulder, and pivot to Damian.

She caught movement in the loft and remembered Cole.

He would shoot Primo but it wouldn’t be fast enough. Primo’s hand was tightening on the gun in his hand, but that wasn’t the part that scared her.

It was his face.

A moment before it had been contorted in rage at Malcolm, but as he turned the weapon on Damian, there was nothing but peace in his face. He knew he would die. He didn’t care. That he’d chosen to kill Damian instead of her hardly mattered.

He might as well kill them both.

If you’d died, I would have died too.

She only had a second. Not long enough to draw her weapon, but long enough to step out from behind Damian, pivot in front of him as the almost silent thud of the weapons held by Damian and Cole mingled with the roar of Primo’s weapon.

She was surprised by the faint sting in her chest. It was so subtle she wondered if the bullet had grazed her, if it might have missed her entirely.

The floor rose up to meet her, warmth seeping through her body.

She lifted a hand to her chest. She would be okay. It didn’t even hurt much.

“No…” Damian’s voice came from far away. “Call a fucking ambulance. Call a fucking ambulance right now, Cole!”

He sounded scared. She wanted to tell him not to worry. To tell him that she wasn’t in any pain and if he could just get her back to the house in the country she would rest for a few hours and be fine. Tomorrow she would work in the greenhouse, start planting seeds for spring.

Everything would be fine.

She opened her mouth to say it all but the words wouldn’t come. She felt her body lifted, looked up to see Damian hunched over her, felt his hands around her shoulders.

She tried to reach up and smooth the fear on his face, but she couldn’t make her arms work. Couldn’t make anything work.

“Don’t you fucking do this, Aria,” he murmured, rocking her. “Don’t you do it. If you die, I die too. Remember?”

Something wet was falling on her face. She thought she might be crying but when she looked up she realized they weren’t her tears at all.

They were Damian’s.

She willed herself to speak but the darkness was closing in, a soft vibration building through her body as it overtook her. She was tired. So very tired.

She would sleep for awhile. Just for awhile.