Relief flickers across his features.“I’m glad.You shouldn’t have to face this alone.”
“I’m not alone.”I reach up, touching his face.The stubble on his jaw rasps against my palm.“I have you.”
“You have me,” he agrees.“For as long as you want me.”
“Forever, then.”
His smile is genuine.“Forever works for me.”
I take a breath, gathering the words I’ve been rehearsing since lunch.Since the dungeon.Since the moment I first understood what my father truly was.
“I’m done being afraid.”My voice is steady, stronger than I expected.“I’m done protecting myself at the cost of everything else.For years, I built walls and calculated every interaction like a chess match, because I thought that was the only way to survive.I thought vulnerability was weakness.I thought trust was a trap.”
Shelby’s expression is soft, patient.He doesn’t interrupt.
“But you showed me a different side.That vulnerability can be strength.That real trust, the kind that means letting someone see your darkness, is the only thing worth fighting for.”I step closer, placing my hand on his chest, over his heart.“Shelby, if you meant what you said, if you really love me, emotional scars and all, then I’m yours.With all my damage and all my fear and all the ways I’m still learning to be whole.”
His hands come up to cup my face, thumbs brushing away tears I couldn’t keep from falling.
“I meant every word,” he says quietly.“I love you, Serena.Not despite your flaws, but because of them.Because they made you who you are.Because you’re the bravest person I know, but you don’t know it.”
“I don’t feel brave.”
“Bravery isn’t the absence of fear.”He leans his forehead against mine.“It’s acknowledging you’re scared and choosing to act anyway.It’s choosing love when every instinct screams at you to run.It’s choosing justice when loyalty to your family would be so much easier.”
“I chose you.”The words are a confession and a promise.“Over my father, my family, and everything I thought defined me.”
“And I chose you yesterday.Today.”His lips brush mine, featherlight.“Tomorrow.Every day after that.For as long as you’ll have me.”
I kiss him then, deep and slow, pouring everything I can’t say into the press of our mouths.The fear and the hope.The grief and the joy.The terrifying, exhilarating certainty that I’ve finally found the person worth fighting for.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“Tomorrow,” I say.“The trial.”
“Tomorrow,” he agrees.“Whatever happens, we face it together.”
Together.
The word settles over me like armor.Like the beginning of something new.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring.I don’t know if my father will grovel for mercy or die with his pride intact.I don’t know what will be left of my family when the dust settles.
But I know that I’m not alone anymore.
And that makes all the difference.
34
Shelby
The Syndicate’s headquarters has never felt more like a courtroom than it does this morning.
Dave’s corner office has been transformed into a tribunal chamber.The massive mahogany table that usually hosts meetings now serves as a barrier between judges and the accused.Additional chairs line the walls, filled with representatives from every founding family.The Connellys.The Sullivans.The O’Connors.The Stewarts.The Todeschinis.And the Boyles, of course—my father Jack at the head, with Dave, Tommy, and me flanking him like soldiers awaiting orders.
Giovanni DiLorenzo sits alone at the far end of the table, his wrists bound with zip ties.He’s still wearing the suit he was captured in.It’s rumpled now, stained with dirt and what might be Cesare’s blood.His silver hair is disheveled, and his green eyes have dark shadows underneath.He looks nothing like the commanding patriarch who once stood shoulder to shoulder with my father at Syndicate galas.
He looks like what he is: a monster stripped of his disguise.
