Domenica woke, startled. She gripped the handles of the chair, but everything was dark.

What the hell happened? Had she seen the Shadow Mob woman? Heard her speak? Had that actually happened?

Panic rolled through her, twisting her stomach and making her breath come quickly. Where was Gian?

Someone pulled the hood from her head. She blinked against the light, taking in her surroundings even as she fought the urge to take off and run.

Something told her the people surrounding her would like to give chase.

Gian was in a chair a few feet away, and his hood was pulled off right after hers. He lunged immediately. But he wasn’t trying to run, he was trying to fight. Two large men gripped his upper arms, holding him in place.

Before Domenica could move to help him, the woman from the Shadow Mob stepped into the light. Looking at Gian, Lydia held up her hand. “Be still, please.”

Seeing her made Gian quit fighting, but he didn’t look happy about it. “You will regret this.”

The woman smiled, a deadly show of teeth. “You were warned. One week has passed. You must now fight for your place in the Shadow Mob, since you didn’t elect to go to Homeland.”

Seeing the woman’s gaze rest on both himself and Domenica as she spoke made Gian growl. “I will fight for both of us.”

“That is acceptable.” She looked at Domenica, a challenge in her gaze. “But that would give you no rank—save as his pretty arm candy.”

Her whole life, Domenica had strived for her own identity—the freedom she saw available even to her father’s lowest man that she was denied. No way. She was no one’s arm candy, not even Gian’s. “I will fight.”

“No!” Gian said, even as the tall woman nodded in satisfaction. Domenica glanced at the large men who were both poised and ready to strike should either she or Gian move without permission. Her gaze moved to the woman. “May I?”

Again, a nod.

She got up from the chair, unsteady from whatever they’d used to knock them unconscious. Careful not to show how unsteady she felt, Domenica walked to Gian and knelt in front of the chair where he sat. She placed her hand on his knees.

His eyes still flashed across the room, watching for danger. But there was no threat here. Her instincts had been honed over the years. And they assured her that while the tall woman could likely take them both down with little effort, she wouldn’t—so long as they played her game and followed her rules.

What alternative was there? Gian was a dragon. And she… Well, she wasn’t fully human, either, was she? Granted, she hadn’t shifted. Probably couldn’t, if Lydia was to be believed. But Gian had come into his own by finding his mate—her. Maybe something similar was happening to her. It could be why she’d been so exhausted the last week. Might she shift into a dragon, too?

Domenica took Gian’s hands in hers. “Look at me.”

Draconic fire flashed in his eyes when his gaze shifted to meet hers. Dangerous anger. Furious rage. But those emotions couldn’t touch her, couldn’t hurt her. He was hers. She knew that down to her bones.

“It is important to me to carve my own place here. At your side, but with my own power. My own identity,” she told him, her voice pitched low even though she knew the people around them could probably hear her at a hundred yards away.

Again, she could read his emotions easily in his gaze. A fierce need to protect her warred with his desire to make her happy. His mind battled against his instinct.

“You won’t allow yourself to be hurt.” His tone revealed none of his emotion, but she could feel how much he cared for her radiating from him. Like heat coming in waves from his body.

“Neither will you,” she said, her words just as strong.

The slight tilt of his head was his only acknowledgment of her words.

She got up and resumed her seat. And Lydia’s men seemed to relax a bit.

The next hour flew by in a whirlwind. Lydia explained the very basic rules to them. They would be in a circle with someone to fight—more than one round, most likely. Stepping out of the circle or running away was an immediate loss.

The point, Lydia said, wasn’t always to win. Or, not just to win. They would be evaluated on factors they couldn’t begin to guess at. Factors that Lydia refused to disclose. Briefly, Domenica considered arguing, and she could see the same desire in Gian. The way the muscles in his jaws flexed, and his fists reflexively opening and closing at his sides.

But he seemed to come to the same conclusion she had.

They had no choice.

* * *

Breathe.

The mental reminder gave her the clarity to take a deep breath. Domenica wasn’t sure what she’d expected—maybe a woman like Lydia. Not the burly fucker standing across from her, that was for sure.

Did he have a neck? She didn’t see a neck.

The man cracked his knuckles, then arched a brow at her. The expression caused the snake tattoo above his eye to twist into a ready-to-strike position.

Purposeful? Probably. In another situation, she might think it neat.

They’d had less than an hour to recover from their kidnapping. An hour to listen to Lydia.

When they’d gotten the details about their fight for position, Lydia had given very few of them away. When Gian had persisted—asking point blank if this would be a fight to the death—Lydia hadn’t blinked. And while she’d said that death certainly wasn’t the goal of the matches, there was always the possibility of an accident.

Hardly reassuring. Especially given the gargantuan across from her now.

The man sneered at Domenica and rushed in, yet she managed to sidestep him at the last second. Thank goodness her dad had insisted on basic self-defense classes for her. She barely had time to turn around again before the man clocked her, hitting her in the stomach. Her diaphragm pushed up, forcing a cough from her lips. But he didn’t persist. Instead, as she sucked in a deep breath, he moved away from her. Instead of going in for the kill, he waited.

They tried to find out something here. Something more difficult to measure but seemingly more important than pure strength. They wanted to see what she and Gian could do.

And she would show them.

The man rushed her again, using the nearly identical maneuver as he had before. This time, she dodged once again. But, using his momentum, she tripped him and shoved him toward the edge of the circle. His toe grazed the line.

A bell sounded, and for a split second, Domenica saw his memories flashed back to half-watched wrestling matches on television. She had the sudden disturbing feeling that she was participating in the Shadow Mob’s version of the WWF.

Then it hit her. She’d won.

Her brain refused to compute that, and it took her a long moment before her muscles relaxed.

Then, the moment was over. Another opponent had stepped into the ring. A woman with close-set eyes and short, spiky hair. She was smaller than Domenica. But small didn’t mean weak.

Her assumption proved true. The woman might’ve appeared smaller than her partner opponent, but she was fast.

They sparred. The smaller woman’s fists came at her as fast as Domenica could block them. Using a similar maneuver to what Domenica had used on her male opponent, the woman almost threw her over the line. Somehow, Domenica caught herself, grunting as one of her fingernails tore out. She managed to get back to her feet, just in time to dodge another attack. Back and forth, they feinted. Then Domenica was finally able to get a hold of her opponent, and tossed her from the circle.

New shock took hold. Domenica wasn’t a large woman at all. In that kind of strength, she would’ve guessed, was beyond her. But she didn’t have time to consider what that might mean. Even as the smaller woman stood and dusted herself off, another opponent entered the ring.

Exhaustion weighed on her, but the sight of yet another opponent pushed another shot of adrenaline through her system.

None of her opponents used their full strength, that became clear. But that made sense if Lydia tried to measure raw skill, rather than training. Domenica squared her shoulders and readied herself for another fight.

* * *

Adrenaline had carried her through, but Domenica was so exhausted she almost collapsed into the chair after the third match. She still wasn’t sure how she’d performed in her bouts—the fights hadn’t seemed exactly like a win-or-lose situation, but instead, seemed designed to test her skills and her reactions.

She sprawled in the chair in a most unladylike fashion, but she didn’t care. She was bone-deep tired, and if she hadn’t still been waiting for Gian to appear, she would’ve fallen asleep right there.

Everything hurt.

After minutes ticked by and her mate still didn’t show, she told herself that his fights were likely taking longer due to his ability to turn into a dragon. But still, worry gnawed at her. Then nearly an hour after she’d sat down, the door at the end of the room opened, and Gian stepped through.

Ignoring her muscles bellyaching, she ran to Gian and pulled him into her arms.

His arms came around her, and he grunted in pain when she squeezed him tightly.

She let go immediately, but he didn’t. Instead, he still held her close. Taking a deep breath of air, he took in her scent.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her mouth pressed against his chest.

He snorted. “That’s my question for you.”

She stepped back, and he released her. “I’m bruised and scratched and exhausted. But I’ll be okay.”

His eyes locked on hers, searching. Seeking the truth of her words. Finally, he nodded. “I’m all right, too. A little worse for wear, but I’ll live.”

Her eyes swept over him, and she walked around him. A large gash on his side and what looked like a burn covering a large portion of his back made her gasp. “What happened?”

“Probably the same thing that happened to you. Only you didn’t go dragon. I’m pretty sure that’s when the gloves came off.”

“Indeed,” Lydia said, coming in the same door Gian had entered. “Your ability to shift quickly and consciously so soon after finding your dragon nature wasn’t something we expected. But it speaks highly of your bloodline and your will.”

“Screw his bloodline,” Domenica said, pissed off. “He could’ve been killed.”

Lydia didn’t give her the slightest reaction, which annoyed her even further. Instead, civilly as could be, she said, “Both of you could have been killed. But you proved to be quite the challengers.”

“Did we now?” Gian asked, his voice cold.

Again, Lydia was unaffected. Idly, Domenica wondered what kind of men and beasts the woman normally dealt with to not be at all flustered by the angry dragon glaring at her.

“Quite. In fact, Gian, you performed high enough to rank Don.” Her gaze flashed to Domenica. “And you performed well enough to be ranked Capo.”

Domenica started. All her life, she’d sought freedom. Freedom to make her own decisions. Even the lowest of the men on the totem pole had experienced more freedom than she had, in many ways. But she’d never in her life thought to attain an actual rank in the mob. Especially not a rank only one step below Don.

“What does that mean exactly?” Gian demanded, obviously not as impressed as she was. Then again, why would he be? He’d been born the son of the Don, not the daughter. The difference in their lives and their ranks was as wide as the ocean.

“It means that—on a trial basis—we will be providing you with a few men who—if you inspire their loyalty—will become a permanent part of your new Shadow Mob family.” She moved her hands to her hips and gave Gian a no-nonsense look. “But for this ranking to become permanent, you must prove yourself worthy. And you must abide by a few rules.”

Gian merely raised an eyebrow, so Domenica asked the hard question. “What rules?”

“You must keep a low profile—especially with your dragon nature. You must prove to be the leader we expect you to be.” She counted the rules off on her fingers. “And you must be willing to maintain the Shadow Mob’s interests above those of your personal ones.”

It was Domenica’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “Well, that’s awfully vague.”

A ghost of a smile touched Lydia’s lips. “Vague? Perhaps. There are many rules left unsaid, I suppose—think of how the human mob operates. Much is left unsaid. Having two individuals rank this highly in the challenges is unusual. For two who haven’t grown up amongst their own kind, it’s unheard of. We’ll all be figuring this out along the way.”

Gian glanced at her, and it warmed her to see him look to her before answering for them both. When she nodded, Gian turned to Lydia. “Very well.”

Lydia smiled, a small expression, but a genuine one. “Come. And I shall introduce you to your new family.”