They accused a poor girl of nearly killing the mafia boss’s dog, but Nero recognized her—and his reaction stunned everyone in the room.

The morning sun rose over the Thorne estate, casting long, golden rays across the manicured lawns and the sprawling stone courtyards. The heavy iron gates stood wide open, welcoming the delivery trucks and staff without the old oppressive paranoia that used to choke the air.

In the newly renovated north kennel, Nero lay stretched out across a massive, plush orthopedic dog bed—far more comfortable than the concrete of the past. His head rested comfortably in Cora’s lap as she sat cross-legged on the floor, softly stroking his scarred left ear while reading through a stack of university textbooks.

Footsteps echoed down the paved walkway. Cora looked up to see Dante walking toward the enclosure. He had traded his heavy syndicate overcoat for a simple charcoal button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He looked older, tired in a way that sleep couldn't fix, but for the first time in years, the haunted tension around his eyes was completely gone.

Dante stopped at the open gate, leaning against the doorframe. "How's the patient?"

"He's spoiled," Cora smiled, looking down as Nero let out a contented, rumbling sigh and thumped his tail against the floorboards. "If you keep giving him imported ribeye scraps for breakfast, he's going to forget he's a guard dog."

"He's not a guard dog anymore," Dante said quietly, stepping inside the enclosure and sitting down on the edge of the dog bed across from Cora. "Graves Logistics has been restructured. The board has new leadership—people who understand that true power isn't built on fear and intimidation. The syndicates are folding their tents. We're legitimate now, Cora. Every last piece of it."

Cora looked at him, her heart skipping a beat. "And you? What are you going to do now that you don't have an empire to defend?"

Dante reached out, his hand brushing against hers as he took the textbook from her lap and set it aside. His fingers intertwined with hers, warm and steady.

"For the past ten years, I thought my life was about survival," Dante said, his voice dropping into a soft, intimate register that made the rest of the world fade away. "I was wrong. It was just a waiting period until I learned how to live."

He looked around the sunny kennel, then back at Cora, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips. "I thought about selling the estate. Moving somewhere quiet, far away from the city, where the gates don't need to be locked."

Cora felt a sudden rush of warmth in her chest. "Is that what you want?"