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

The dining room fell into an uncomfortable, suffocating silence.

Stella felt every eye in the room turn toward her. Her breath caught in her throat. Her mind raced back to three weeks ago—to the night Dean had brought a locked metal box into their apartment, forcing her to stash it beneath her closet floorboards.

She hadn't known what was inside the box. She hadn't touched it. But Dean had told Vance that she was the one who took it.

“He lied,” Stella said, her voice shaking as she stood up from the booth. “Jonah, I swear... I never touched his money! I didn't even know Vance existed until two weeks ago!”

Vance chuckled nastily. “Of course she denies it. But my ledger doesn't lie, Jonah. Thirty grand went missing from my safe the same night Keller showed up with fresh cash. Keller swore on his deathbed that she took it to buy her way out from under him.”

Jonah didn't look at Stella immediately. He kept his dark, unblinking eyes fixed on Vance.

“Dean Keller was a liar and a coward who died as he lived,” Jonah said smoothly. “His words are worth nothing in this room.”

“Maybe so,” Vance said, taking a step closer to Jonah. “But thirty grand is thirty grand. You bought his debt, Jonah, but you didn't buy hers. She owes me thirty grand. Hand her over, or pay her tab.”

Wyatt drew his gun beneath his jacket, the sharp metallic click echoing across the quiet restaurant. The diners near the front began gathering their coats, scrambling toward the exit as panic spread.

Jonah raised one hand, halting Wyatt.

He walked slowly toward Vance until he was standing inches from the loan shark’s face.

“Let me make something clear to you, Arthur,” Jonah whispered, his tone so terrifyingly calm that Vance’s smirk finally vanished. “Stella Hayes owes you nothing. She owes no man in this city anything. If you ever set foot in Aurelia again, if you ever approach her, or if you even whisper her name in Brooklyn, I will dismantle your entire operation piece by piece until you have nothing left to sleep on but concrete.”

Vance’s face darkened with rage. “You’re choosing a broken girl over peace in this city, Pierce? Over thirty grand?”

“I’m choosing what is right,” Jonah said softly. “Now get out of my restaurant.”

Vance glared at Jonah, then looked past him at Stella, his eyes filled with pure malice.

“This isn't over, Pierce,” Vance hissed, turning on his heel. “You can't protect her forever.”

Vance and his men backed out of the mahogany doors, disappearing into the dark rain outside.

The restaurant was empty now, save for the staff and Jonah’s security team.

Stella stood by the booth, her legs trembling violently. She looked at Jonah as he turned back toward her.

“Jonah... I swear to you,” she choked out, tears finally breaking past her eyelashes. “I didn't steal anything. I didn't know—”

“I know,” Jonah interrupted softly.

He crossed the room, stepping up to her. For the first time, he reached out and gently cupped her face in his large, warm hand, his thumb brushing away a tear from her cheekbone.

“I know you didn't steal it,” Jonah murmured. “Dean used you one last time to try and save his own skin. It doesn't matter.”

“He won't stop,” Stella sobbed, burying her face against Jonah’s chest, her hands clutching his dark blue suit jacket. “Vance won't stop until he gets his money or... or until he hurts you.”