Claire's POV

Vera didn't move, didn't blink, didn't even breathe as I held onto her. The weight of the moment settled between us, thick and suffocating, the air still humming with the anger she hadn't fully let go of.

I had seen her cold. I had seen her ruthless. I had seen the way she ruled with an iron grip, never allowing a single weakness to slip through the cracks. But this? This wasn't control. This was something else.

I pulled away just enough to meet her eyes, my hands still on her arms, feeling the tension that had yet to leave her body. Slowly, I reached up and cupped her face, my fingers brushing against the sharp angles of her jaw.

She flinched. Not in fear, not in anger—but in something far worse.

A sharp breath, her lips parting slightly as if she was about to say something but lost the words before they could form.

Her eyes locked onto mine, guarded and confused, like she didn't understand what I was doing. Like she didn't understand why I was still here.

"Take one with me," I whispered.

Her brows pulled together. "What?"

"A breath," I said softly. "Just one."

Vera's chest was rising and falling too fast, her body still coiled tight like she was waiting for the next attack. Like she was waiting for something—someone—to betray her.

I inhaled, slow and deep, showing her how.

For a long moment, she didn't move.

Then, stiffly, reluctantly, she mirrored me.

A deep inhale. A slow exhale.

It wasn't much, but something in her gaze shifted—just slightly. Less chaos. Less rage. More her.

I didn't drop my hands. I didn't step away. Instead, I took her hand gently, leading her toward the bed. "Sit with me."

She resisted at first, the hesitation flickering through her eyes. But I didn't let go, didn't back down, and after a few seconds, she let herself be pulled down beside me.

She sat stiffly, her hands still balled into fists in her lap, as if forcing herself not to lash out, not to let the anger take control again.

"I get it," I said, my voice quiet but steady.

Vera let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking her head. "No. You don't."

I squeezed her fingers. "I do."

Her head snapped toward me, sharp, disbelieving, but there was no fire behind it—just exhaustion.

I held her gaze, unwavering. "You told me once. Ignacio was the only father figure you had."

She stiffened.

"And Dominic took that from you."

Her breathing faltered for a second, her grip on my hand tightening.

I swallowed, my voice softer now. "So, yeah. I get it."

Silence stretched between us, heavy and unrelenting.

Vera stared at me, something raw flickering in her eyes, something she didn't want to acknowledge. Something that scared her.

She had spent so much of her life being untouchable, being feared. She had spent so much time making sure no one could ever reach her.

And yet, here I was.

Reaching her.

Vera wasn't going to let herself fall apart in front of me. She wasn't going to break down, wasn't going to crumble. That wasn't who she was.

But she didn't have to.

So I did the only thing I could.

I wrapped my arms around her.

She went rigid, every muscle in her body locking up, her breath hitching like she didn't know what to do with it.

I held on anyway.

"I know what it's like to feel like you have no one," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "To feel like if you let yourself fall, there's no one there to catch you."

Vera didn't move, didn't breathe.

"But you don't have to feel that way anymore," I continued, tightening my grip just slightly. "You don't have to be alone, Vera."

Something inside her cracked.

I felt it, the way her shoulders dipped just slightly, the way her fingers twitched against my arm, the way her body stopped fighting.

She didn't hug me back.

But she didn't pull away, either.

And for Vera Castillo—that meant everything.

Vera's POV

The second Claire's warmth left me, the room felt colder.

I stood there, fists clenched, jaw tight, my breath unsteady in a way that made me angry. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to let it happen.

But I had.

Claire had touched me, held me, whispered things that stuck, and I had let her.

My body still felt the ghost of her hands on my skin. The weight of her words in my chest.

You don't have to be alone.

I sucked in a sharp breath, forcing my body to move, to shake it off, to push away the weakness trying to settle inside me.

It meant nothing. It had to mean nothing.

I turned, needing to reclaim control, needing to pull myself out of this mess she was making in my head. Claire was still watching me, waiting, like she knew I was unraveling, like she was waiting to see if I'd let myself fall.

I wouldn't.

I exhaled sharply and stepped away from her, my back turned as I spoke.

"Now that Dominic is out of prison," I said, voice cold and steady, "I can kill him myself."

Claire went still.

I glanced at her, waiting for a reaction, but she didn't explode like I expected her to. Instead, she took a slow, deliberate breath. Then she looked at me, really looked at me.

"You're going to start a war," she said, her voice too calm.

I smirked. "I've been in wars before."

Claire shook her head, taking a step toward me. "And what happens when you win it?"

I scoffed. "Then I win."

Claire didn't stop moving. Another step, another slow exhale. "And worse... what happens if you lose?"

I clenched my jaw.

That question. That fucking question.

I didn't answer.

Claire tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing, seeing too much. "You've been playing this game a long time, Vera. But this isn't just about killing a man. It's about the war he leaves behind."

My fists tightened. "You think I don't know that?"

"You're acting like you don't," she shot back.

Silence.

Claire let out a breath, running a hand through her hair before looking at me again. "This isn't like before, Vera. Dominic won't just go down quietly. Even if you kill him, there will be people to take his place, people who will see it as an opening to challenge you."

I knew that. I fucking knew that.

But I didn't care.

I had to do this.

I took a step closer, dropping my voice. "He took Ignacio from me."

Claire's expression softened just slightly. "I know."

"I'm going to kill him."

She didn't argue, didn't try to tell me not to.

Instead, she just sighed. "Then what?"

I blinked.

"What happens after?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm. "What happens to you when it's over?"

I didn't have an answer.

And that pissed me off even more.

Claire's POV

I stared at her, the weight of her words sinking deep into my chest.

"You said I won't be alone." Her voice was low, edged with something sharp, something I wasn't sure she even understood. "So are you going to have my back, or were those just words?"

I let out a slow breath, my fingers curling at my sides. She was daring me. Challenging me. But there was something beneath it, something unspoken, something almost—raw.

"I meant what I said," I told her, my voice quieter now, steady. "You won't be alone, Vera. If this is what you want—if this is the war you're choosing—then I'll stand by you."

Vera's gaze flickered, her lips pressing together for a brief second before she scoffed. "Good. Then we don't have a problem."

I shook my head. "That's not the point."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, waiting.

I took a step closer. "I'm telling you I'll have your back. But I hope you don't end up regretting the outcome of this war."

Something flickered in her expression. It was brief, barely there, but I saw it. That hesitation. That sliver of doubt she didn't want to acknowledge.

Vera Castillo never hesitated.

She took a slow breath, her jaw tightening. "I don't do regrets."

I exhaled sharply. "Yeah? Well, I hope you don't start now."

She scoffed, shaking her head. "I know what I'm doing, pastelito."

"Do you?"

Silence.

Her gaze locked onto mine, the tension thick, suffocating.

I swallowed, pushing forward. "You think killing Dominic is where this ends. But it's not. You know that, right?"

Her jaw clenched.

"You're not just taking out a man, Vera. You're taking out a legacy. One that will make enemies out of people who wouldn't have dared to look in your direction before."

She stepped forward, eyes burning. "Good. Let them come."

I shook my head, frustration bubbling under my skin. "And then what? What happens when you win? Or worse, what happens if you lose?"

Vera's breath hitched—just slightly. Her body tensed, her eyes flashing.

She didn't like that question.

Because she didn't have an answer.

She scoffed, tilting her head. "You think I'm afraid of losing?"

"I think you're afraid of what happens if you do," I shot back.

A long, sharp silence stretched between us.

Then Vera inhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders back, shifting into something unreadable, distant. "You don't have to worry about me, Claire."

I swallowed. "I do, though."

She didn't respond.

She just looked at me for a long moment, something unspoken passing between us. Then, finally, she exhaled, stepping back.

"I'm going to kill him," she said, her voice quiet but final.

I nodded, throat tight. "Then I guess I'll have to make sure you survive it."

Vera's POV

Claire moved before I could stop her, before I could even think.

She stood, slow and deliberate, and wrapped her arms around my waist.

I felt it instantly—the warmth, the weight of her against me, the way her body fit against mine like she belonged there.

It was unnerving.

My hands twitched at my sides, my instincts screaming at me to pull away, to push her back, to stop this before it went too far. But I didn't.

Instead, I scoffed, my voice dipping into something amused, something meant to cover up the fact that I hadn't moved at all.

"You're getting comfortable with that."

Claire hummed, resting her head against my chest, her breath warm through the fabric of my shirt.

"I don't see you hating it."

I inhaled sharply, my jaw tightening.

She was testing me.

And I was failing.

I wanted to tell her she was wrong. That this meant nothing. That she didn't know what she was talking about.

But I couldn't.

Because she was right.

I didn't hate it.

I didn't hate the way she fit against me. I didn't hate the way her fingers curled slightly at my back, or the way she felt like something solid in the middle of all this chaos.

What I hated was that I didn't have the strength to pull away.

Instead, my hands moved before my brain could catch up.

One of them hovered at her back, the other at her side. Not holding her, not pushing her away.

Just there.

And that was almost worse.

I clenched my jaw, trying to ignore the way my heart was pounding, the way my entire body felt like it was betraying me.

"You really don't know when to stop, do you?" I muttered.

Claire shifted slightly, nuzzling closer, and I felt her smirk against my chest.

"Not when I know you don't want me to."

I shut my eyes, exhaling sharply. Claire hadn't let go.

That should've been my first mistake—letting her linger, letting her settle against me, making no move to push her away.

But the real mistake? I didn't want to.

My hands had stayed there, hovering at her back, not quite holding, but not pushing either. I hated how easy it was. How natural. Like she belonged there.

Like I wanted her there.

My jaw clenched. I needed to stop this.

But before I could move—before I could shove her away, pull some sharp remark to cut through the air between us—there was a sharp knock on the door.

I went rigid.

Claire didn't flinch, didn't even pull away. She just let out a slow, amused breath against my chest.

"You gonna let go now?" she murmured, her voice teasing.

Something in me snapped back into place.

I shoved her off, stepping back like her touch had burned. Like I hadn't just stood there, letting it happen.

Claire stumbled slightly before catching herself, looking up at me with a smirk, clearly too amused by how quickly I had shut down.

I glared. I hated that smirk. Another knock.

"Vera." Antonio's voice.

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my jaw before turning toward the door. Claire didn't move, still watching me, clearly too amused by how quickly I had shut down.

I ignored her, opening the door to find Antonio standing there, his expression tight.

His eyes flicked past me. Saw Claire. The shift was almost imperceptible.

His jaw tensed, his fingers curled at his side, but he didn't comment on it.

"What?" I asked, my voice flat.

Antonio's gaze lingered on me for a second too long before he exhaled, shaking his head.

"It's Leo," he said.

That name alone was enough to drain whatever warmth had been in the room.

I stiffened, my muscles tensing. "What about him?"

Antonio ran a hand through his hair, looking reluctant to say it. "He burned down one of our warehouses."

The words hit like a gunshot. The moment shattered.

I stepped forward before I even realized I had moved, my hands curling into fists. "What did you just say?"

Antonio's expression remained neutral, but there was tension in his posture. "Warehouse on the south side. It's gone, Vera."

Gone.

Leo.

A slow, boiling rage started to creep under my skin, simmering, consuming.

That was mine.

I built this empire. I fought, clawed my way to the top, and he thought he could burn it out from under me?

My breathing was slow, controlled—but my pulse was pounding in my ears.

I barely noticed Claire moving behind me, watching.

Antonio hesitated before adding, "It wasn't just the warehouse. Two of our men didn't make it out."

Silence.

Then—a sharp crack.

It took me a second to realize my hand had shot out, sending the nearest chair flying across the room, crashing into the wall with a loud bang.

Claire flinched, and Antonio took a small step back, his eyes carefully watching my reaction.

But I wasn't thinking about them.

I was thinking about Leo.

I clenched my jaw, my entire body coiling with the kind of anger I hadn't felt in a long, long time.

"Get everyone in the briefing room." My voice was low, controlled. Dangerous.

Antonio hesitated. "Vera—"

"Now."

Antonio didn't push. He nodded once before turning and walking out.

I stood there for a moment, my breath slow, sharp. Then I moved.

I grabbed the next thing within reach—the lamp on my desk—and hurled it against the wall. It shattered on impact, pieces scattering across the floor.

Leo wanted war?

I'd give him war.