Dante sits behind a massive desk, the gleam of his gold cufflinks catching the dim light. Enzo stands to my left, posturerigid, hands clasped behind his back. Tension rolls off him—the way his jaw clenches like he’s grinding through words he wouldn’t dare say aloud.
The De Luca family dynamic has been strained for as long as I’ve been here.
Especially after Enzo found out Dante was using Aurelia as some sort of shiny distraction to make his deals run smoothly.
My best friend has always had a moral code, and hated that his father—his boss—didn’t seem to have a soul at all.
Dante doesn’t waste time on pleasantries. “You know why you’re here,” his voice slices through the haze. “Ace’s failure to escape has brought dishonour to this family.” He leans forward, fingers steepled on the desk. “She must be eliminated.”
My mind runs through any other way this could be interpreted. “Eliminated?”
“Yes, you will meet with Nikolai again, this time ensuring proof of life is secured. I don’t care which of you do it, but she is to be killed on sight.”
Enzo’s hands flex at his back, but I catch a faint shine of moisture on his cheek. One tear escapes, and no matter how fast he wipes it away, when his jaw tightens and he bows his head, I know.
He would follow the order.
“You understand the gravity of this,” Dante continues, leaning back in his chair. “Do not humiliate her. Do not allow her to be tortured in front of anyone—that would be a greater disgrace than the act itself. She cannot live past the proof of life. Your family’s honour requires it.”
I swallow hard, my heart pounding. “Yes, sir.”
Enzo’s eyes flick toward me, his face tight, and though he remains silent, I can feel the weight of his resolve. The single tear he tried to hide tells me everything I need to know. This is ripping him in two, but what he’s planning is bigger than Ace.
Dante leans forward again, his eyes narrowing on his son. “I will not tolerate failure. You caused enough chaos already. Enzo, you will ensure Elijah does not falter. When the time comes, she dies. You understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Enzo says, cold and mechanical, but I catch the pain in his eyes.
The room falls silent for a beat, the only sound the faint crackle of Dante’s cigar. He exhales, smoke curling around his face. “Good. Go. Prepare yourselves. I will not have my daughter’s situation dragged into public disgrace. Honour above all.”
* * *
The road stretches ahead in a thin silver ribbon, the city lights fading in the mirror until nothing is left but darkness and the engine’s hum. Enzo’s gone quiet beside me, half-asleep or pretending to be. I don’t care which. Silence is easier.
Wind slips through a crack in the window, carrying the smell of rain and exhaust.
I shouldn’t have said yes to Dante. I should’ve walked out of that room, tossed my keys on his desk, and told him to find another soldier to clean up his shame. But when he said her name without a hint of feeling, I knew he’d never stop until someone brought him her body.
That someone was supposed to be me.
The tires hum against the asphalt; every sound feels too loud. I grip the wheel tighter, trying not to think about her, but it’s useless. She’s everywhere.
The way she used to look at me—head tilted, eyes daring me to admit what we both knew.
The way she’d laugh when I didn’t.
I told myself I was protecting her. That staying away kept her safe. Truth is, I was protecting myself from the way she made everything else feel small.
I run a hand over my face.
My knuckles are still raw from the last job, and I wonder if she’d even recognize me now.
“Still thinking about it?” Enzo asks roughly, lifting his head from the window.
“Yeah,” I say, moving my hand to run through my dark waves. “I can’t do it.”
Enzo doesn’t answer for a moment.
When he does, his voice is laced with pain. “Then you’d better figure out what you can do to avoid it. Dante’s not the forgiving type.”
