Viktor’s smile is dead behind the eyes. “She chose the wrong side. And paid for it.”
No wonder Aurelia grew up in a cage of secrets and nightmares.
Viktor turns to me like nothing happened. “Son,” he says lightly, “where is our special girl?”
My throat feels raw. “With Adrian,” I answer.
The circle exhales—long, mocking, knowing.
Dante flicks ash from his cigar. “Bring her to me.”
I nod once. “I’ll be back.”
I look at Maksim, and he moves instantly, shadowing my steps.
As we step away, voices rise behind us—low, dangerous, old wounds tearing open.
I hope I gave Aurelia enough time.
The night air slams into me when Maksim and I push through the doors, doing nothing to cool the storm already in my chest.
Chapter 66
Aurelia
Enzo stands at the far edge of the terrace, a cutout from my life I forgot I was starving for. For a heartbeat, I can’t breathe. My vision tilts, and it’s like seeing a ghost that drags every version of me back into my skin at once.
The cold should steady me, but it doesn’t. The wind hits my face, and all I feel is the burn behind my eyes.
The last safe thing I ever had.
I don’t think.
I run.
When I hit him, his arms close around me. His scent—winter cologne and wealth—sinks into me. My knees buckle, and my fingers twist into the fabric of his coat.
Relief crashes into me so hard I could have folded in half. His hug is steady, the kind of solid, ordinary protection I’d been missing without knowing. I grip hard before my knees stop wobbling and the adrenaline in my veins slows to a pulse.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, one corner of his mouth tipped with tears. “Fuck… I’m happy you’re alive,” he says, his voice rough.
“Aw, so you actually care about me.”
He messes up my hair with the same stupid affection he’s always dished out.
“Shut up, loser.” He shoves my shoulder, and I laugh. “By the way… you’re dressed a little hoe-ish.”
“Thank you. I know I look hot too.” I wriggle away and do a mock-model turn, because sometimes I have to own the ridiculousness of my brother’s protective nature.
Elijah steps out from behind a sleek steel Maserati.
Did Enzo get a new car while I was fighting for my life?I mean… captivity wasn’t all bad,obviously,but what the hell?
Despite everything, seeing my brother’s best friend is a shock. He looks older. Tired. Like he hasn’t slept since the night I disappeared.
“Elijah,” I say, as if greeting another scar that somehow makes the map of me more complete.
Elijah isn’t just a person—he’s a whole era of my life, one I thought I’d never get back.
