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Rio rests one hand over hers. His voice softens.

“Whatever name Valentino chose for us doesn’t change where we are now. It doesn’t change loyalty. It doesn’t change the empire sitting around us. We’re still the Boars. What we’ve built is real.”

I stare down at my own hand. Boar was the one possession I thought no one could rewrite. Turns out even that was curated. Engineered. Handed to me.

I sit back against the headboard, my cell dangling loosely in my fingers.

Rio leans down and kisses Lana’s temple. She doesn’t wake, but her body relaxes into the mattress.

He looks at me again.

“Names can be invented,” he murmurs, “Power cannot. That’s real.”

CHAPTER 8

RIO

Sleep catches me without warning. The last thing I remember is Lana between us, safe under our heat, her breath soft against my sternum. My arm resting around her waist, and Brox on her opposite side, both of us drifting without fear for the first time in hours.

At some point, the room becomes still. The entire penthouse is silent, almost peaceful. Lana sleeps without movement, her breathing steady, her skin cool against mine. Brox is motionless except for the subtle rhythm of his chest.

The quiet is broken by a buzz against my hip.

It takes my brain a few seconds to register that it’s my cell vibrating in my pocket. I blink and lift my head without moving Lana too much. She stays asleep, undisturbed. Her hand rests near Brox’s ribs, tucked into the blanket.

I slide the cell out and glance at the screen. At nearly eleven at night, it’s Sol calling.

I exhale and try to talk without waking Lana.

“Yeah.”

His voice comes steady and business-focused.

“Just checking if you’re planning to come downstairs tonight?”

I close my eyes for a moment and let my head rest back against the headboard. “I don’t know yet. Maybe. But don’t count on us. If anything changes, I’ll tell you.”

My free hand squeezes the blanket near Lana’s hip. She barely shifts. Brox breathes deeply beside her, almost snoring.

Sol continues, “Also… Lana needs to call the hospital. To cancel the missing persons alert.”

My jaw tightens. “Right. Thank you for reminding me.”

“I figured you’d be occupied.”

Understatement.

“Stay on the line, Sol.”

I rub my face and sit up carefully, sliding away from Lana so she doesn’t wake. She doesn’t move at all. Brox turns his head just slightly but stays asleep.

I stand from the bed and step out into the dim hallway. The living room glows softly from a lamp near the corner. I move toward the sofa and sink into it with a long exhale. My suit jacket is a disaster—crumpled, stained, ruined.

“Sol, we need someone for the penthouse,” I say. “A mix between Greta’s domestic skills and reliable security support.”

“Right,” Sol answers. “I’ll start searching.”

“Thank you.”