Blood on polished marble had never made Jonah Pierce lose his appetite.

By the time Jonah returned to the penthouse above Aurelia, the rain had stopped, leaving Manhattan bathed in the cool light of the moon.

The penthouse was quiet. Stella was sitting in the large armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Midtown. She was dressed in a simple, oversized grey cashmere sweater and dark trousers that Jonah’s staff had procured for her. Her hair was clean and dried, falling in soft waves over her shoulders.

She looked up as Jonah entered the room.

He looked tired. He hung his damp wool coat on the mahogany stand by the door and unbuttoned his collar, stepping into the warm glow of the living room.

“Is it done?” Stella asked softly.

Jonah walked over and sat on the leather sofa opposite her chair. “Dean is on a bus to Chicago. He will not come back to New York. If he does, he will not survive the day.”

Stella closed her eyes, letting out a long, ragged breath that had been trapped in her chest for three years. A tear slipped down her cheek, but this time it wasn't a tear of fear. It was the terrifying, overwhelming sensation of freedom.

“What about the money?” she asked, opening her eyes. “The fifty thousand I brought you... and the money he owed Vance?”

“ paid Vance,” Jonah said simply. “And the fifty thousand Dean sent with you was deposited into a fresh bank account opened in your name this afternoon.”

Stella stared at him, stunned. “What? No... Mr. Pierce, that was Dean’s debt money. That’s your money!”

“Dean Keller’s money was dirty, stolen from your mother’s insurance payout,” Jonah replied, his voice firm. “I don't keep stolen money. It’s yours. It will cover your medical bills, a new apartment when you’re ready, and whatever else you need to rebuild your life.”

“I can't accept that,” Stella whispered, her voice shaking. “Nobody gives away fifty thousand dollars without expecting something in return. I know how the world works. Dean taught me that.”

Jonah leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, looking directly into her eyes.

“Dean Keller was a small man who used debt to make himself feel powerful,” Jonah said softly. “I am not Dean Keller. I don't collect souls, Stella. I run a business, and I protect what is mine. Last night, you collapsed under my roof. That makes you my responsibility until you are whole again.”

“And after that?” she asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

“After that, you are a free woman,” Jonah said softly. “You can walk out that door, take your money, leave New York, and never see me again.”

Stella looked at the man sitting before her—a man feared across the entire city, a man whose name made hardened criminals pale. Yet in his eyes, she saw no threat, no hidden ledger, no demand for submission.

For the first time in three years, Stella Hayes felt safe.

“I don't want to leave,” she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Jonah stared at her, his dark eyes softening slightly. “Stella, you don't know who I am. You know the stories, but the reality of my world is dangerous. Men like me... we don't offer peaceful lives.”

“Dean offered me a peaceful life,” Stella said bitterly, a sad smile touching her lips. “And it almost killed me. I don't want peaceful, Mr. Pierce. I want safe.”

Jonah stood up slowly, stepping toward her chair. He reached out his hand—not to touch her bruised arm, but offering his palm upward, giving her complete control.

Stella looked at his hand, then looked up into his dark eyes.