There are rules when the devil kicks in your door.

The morning light cut through the heavy silk drapes of the safe house master suite, casting long, golden bars across the plush Persian rug. Nora woke up to an unfamiliar silence—no dripping radiator, no shouting neighbors in the hallway, no sirens wailing down Milwaukee Avenue.

For a terrifying second, she didn't know where she was. Then the scent of rich espresso and baking bread drifted under the bedroom door, and memory rushed back like a cold wave.

She sat up, rubbing her tired eyes. The cashmere lounge set felt weightless against her skin. Across the room, through the open door of the nursery, she heard a soft cooing sound.

Nora sprang out of bed, her maternal instincts kicking in instantly. She rushed into the nursery to find Mrs. Higgins gently bouncing a wide-awake, giggling Leo in her arms while feeding him mashed banana from a silver spoon.

“Good morning, dear,” Mrs. Higgins smiled warmly, her wrinkles softening her stern face. “Master Leo is a hungry little man. He’s already charmed half the security detail down in the kitchen.”

Nora let out a breath she didn't realize she’d been holding, a genuine smile breaking across her face. “Thank you, Mrs. Higgins. I... I didn't mean to sleep in.”

“Norse. You haven't slept a full night in months, child. Mr. Moretti gave strict orders that no one was to disturb you.”

At the mention of his name, Nora’s smile faded slightly. “Where is he?”

“In the study,” Mrs. Higgins replied, dipping the spoon back into the bowl. “He’s been on the phone since five o'clock this morning. Some business regarding your ex-fiancé, I believe. Thomas made quite a mess across the city before he vanished.”

Ten minutes later, dressed in a pair of tailored black trousers and a soft cream sweater that Mrs. Higgins had selected, Nora walked down the sweeping staircase. The mansion was breathtaking in the daylight, filled with priceless art and heavy mahogany furniture. But as she neared the ground floor, she heard raised voices echoing from the end of the hall.

She froze by a massive bronze statue, her heart hammering against her ribs.

“—if we don't move on his cousin’s warehouse by noon, the trail goes cold, Boss!” a harsh voice barked. It was Dante.

“We move when I say we move,” Gabriel’s voice cut through the air, cold, sharp, and absolute. “Thomas is erratic, but he’s not stupid. He has a stash hidden in the docks. Find the ledger, not the man. The ledger will tell us where the cash went.”

“And the girl?” Dante pressed. “She’s a liability, Gabriel. A civilian. If the Bratva or the Albanians catch wind that we’ve got her—”

“She stays here,” Gabriel interrupted, his tone leaving zero room for argument. “End of discussion.”

Nora stepped back into the shadows of the hallway, her breath catching in her throat. Gabriel was protecting her. Not because he cared about her feelings, but because his code demanded it. Yet, the realization that a mafia don was arguing with his own enforcer to keep her safe sent a strange, dizzying warmth through her chest.

She took a deep breath, smoothed down her sweater, and walked around the corner into the open study.

Gabriel stood by a massive mahogany desk covered in maps, financial portfolios, and a laptop glowing with security feeds. Dante stood across from him, jaw clenched, looking like a bulldog ready to bite.

When Dante saw Nora, he snapped his mouth shut. Gabriel turned slowly.

His gray eyes swept over her, noting the new clothes, the brushed hair, the color back in her cheeks. For a fleeting second, something softening flickered in his expression before hardening back into stone.

“Did you sleep?” Gabriel asked, ignoring Dante’s presence completely.

“Yes,” Nora said, standing tall despite the nervous butterflies in her stomach. She refused to cower in front of them. “Thank you for the room. And the clothes.”

Gabriel gave a single, curt nod. He turned to Dante. “Leave us.”

Dante shot Nora a suspicious, guarded look, muttered something under his breath, and marched out of the study, heavy boots thudding against the hardwood.

The heavy oak door clicked shut, leaving Nora alone with the devil of Chicago.

Gabriel walked slowly around the desk, stopping a few feet away from her. Up close, the silver threads at his temples seemed more pronounced in the morning light, highlighting a man who carried the weight of an empire on his shoulders.

“I heard what Dante said,” Nora began, her voice steady. “He’s right, you know. I’m a liability. If your enemies find out I’m here, they’ll use me against you.”

“Dante worries about the business,” Gabriel said smoothly, his hands sliding into the pockets of his trousers. “I worry about the parameters of my operations. You are under my roof, Nora. That means my protection extends to you. End of story.”

“Why?” Nora asked, stepping closer, frustration and confusion bubbling up. “Why make yourself a target for a woman you don't even know? You don't owe me anything. Tommy is the one who stole from you.”

Gabriel looked down at her. Because of her height and his towering frame, he had to tilt his head down slightly. His gaze dropped to her full lips, then tracked slowly up to her eyes.

“Because,” Gabriel said softly, his voice dropping an octave, “I am a man of principle, Nora. And unlike Thomas, when I make a commitment to handle a situation, I see it through to the end.”

Before Nora could process the heavy implication of his words, a soft chime echoed from the desk. Gabriel’s phone lit up. He glanced at the screen, and his face instantly darkened into an expression of lethal coldness.

“They found something,” Gabriel muttered.

“Who?” Nora’s blood ran cold.

“The Albanians,” Gabriel said, walking swiftly back to the desk and snapping his laptop shut. “They tracked one of Thomas’s burner phones to a motel on the North Side. Which means they are closing in on his circle.”

Nora gripped the edge of the desk, her knuckles turning white. “Will they come here?”