"And where was YOUR family when my cousin took her off the street?" The words crack like a whip. "Where were you when she needed protection? Where was Marco?"
Nico flinches. He knows something's wrong beyond just this. The silence that follows is heavy with everything we're not saying. Marco's words echo in my memory:Get out.Now I'm leaving another home, another man who won't want me once he knows the truth.
"Nine years of truth between us, Sof," Nico says quietly, and the personal hurt in his voice cuts deep. "Nine years. And you chose to break that for him?"
Dante steps forward with that quiet authority he carries, the kind that makes everyone stop and listen even though he never makes a sound. His presence alone shifts the dynamic, turns this from a standoff into something else.
He signs to me through the window, movements gentle but insistent. Nico doesn't translate this time. These words are just for me.What do you want, little sister? Do you want to go with him or come with us?
The question hangs in the air like a blade. What do I want? I should want Alexei. Should want the man who just destroyed his own family for me. But I can't look at him. Can't face what I've done, what I'm hiding. The truth about Mikhail sits like poison in my throat, and I taste copper with every swallow.
And Nico, who trained me, who made me promise never to lie, who held me together when I was falling apart. He's here. Even knowing something terrible happened, he came.
I open the car door. The sound is too loud in the tense quiet, metal creaking. My legs shake as I step out, my shoes dull against cold asphalt. My feet are still bleeding from my flight through the forest, and each step sends pain up my legs. The rough ground makes me unsteady, and I have to focus to keep my balance.
The wind hits my bare legs, and I remember his hands there just hours ago at the lakehouse. My body is a traitor, respondingto memories when my heart is breaking. My skin aches for his touch even as I force myself to stand.
"Sofia." Alexei's voice cracks on my name, and his breathing changes. I can hear it, rough and uneven, like he's fighting for control.
I almost reach for him. My hand actually moves before I catch myself, fingers curling into a fist. The Weapon whispers that I could end this three different ways, but the woman in me can barely stand.
I still can't look at him. "I need to go with them."
"Why?" The single word holds so much: confusion, betrayal, desperate need for understanding.
"Because I can't explain it to you." The words taste like ash, and I'm holding back tears so hard my throat aches. "Not yet. Maybe not ever."
"That's not an answer."
"It's all I have."
I'm choosing my brothers. Last time, I chose the wrong love, the wrong side, the wrong loyalty. I can't do that again.
I expect rage. Expect him to grab me, to remind me that I'm his, that he owns me in ways that go deeper than possession. Instead, I get something so much worse.
Hurt. Raw, bleeding hurt that makes me finally look at him.
His face is still splattered with other men's blood, white shirt ruined beyond salvage. The gunpowder scent is stronger now, mixing with sweat and violence. But it's his eyes that destroy me. Pale and shattered, looking at me like I've ripped something essential out of his chest.
"You're leaving me." Not a question. A statement of fact that sounds like a death sentence.
"I'm giving you time to realize you shouldn't want me."
"I'll always…"
"Don't." My voice breaks. "Don't say something you can't take back."
Because if he says he'll always want me, always love me, I might not be strong enough to leave. Might confess everything right here on this dark street and watch the last person who matters turn away in disgust. My body screams to run back to him, to let him hold me while I confess everything, but I force my feet to stay planted.
The silence stretches between us, heavy with everything we can't say. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, and I can see him fighting every instinct that tells him to keep me.
Dante moves forward, signing directly at Alexei now. The movements are simple, clear enough that even someone who doesn't know sign language can understand the meaning. Nico translates anyway, voice soft: "You love her."
It's not a question.
"That's why you'll let her go," Dante continues through Nico's translation.
"And if I don't?" Alexei's voice is barely controlled violence.
