Elijah works fast to get her covered and pull his clothes on, but I don’t stay to hear excuses. My breath shudders in short, ragged bursts as I spin and bolt back up the stairs.
I shoot past Leo, who looks at me with sympathy as I storm past him.
I hear him mumble into his radio, but I can’t make sense of anything right now.
I fall to my bed, pissed at myself for once again falling for his manipulation.
I can only blame myself.
I let the first tear stream down my cheek when Leo cracks open the door to let Hank in, quickly shutting it again.
He waits at my feet, whining, pawing at my leg. His body leans into mine as if he can hold me upright when the floor beneath me has been ripped away.
Even his warmth can’t stop the shiver that rips through me.
I was so stupid. I was so painfully naively stupid to think we could rebuild anything at all. I will never forgive him, and I will never allow myself to be this weak again.
Chapter 19
Aurelia
Three jarring knocks jerk me awake, but Hank is already at the door, barking, his body so tense I think he knows exactly who it is. I groan and bury my face deeper into the pillow, willing the world to go quiet.
“Ace,” Elijah’s voice calls, a commanding sound, cutting through the haze of sleep and shame. “Up. You’ve got one minute. We’re running.”
“Fuck off, Elijah!” I yell, muffled into the pillow. My throat burns from words I shouldn’t be saying, and my chest tightens at the thought of him standing there, probably smirking, probably calm as ever.
The door bursts open, slamming against the stopper. Hank goes still, ears flat, body rigid. My pulse spikes, and I shove myself upright, hair tangling across my face.
“That’s a fast minute,” I mutter, voice tight, letting the words slip out before I think. My fingers curl into the sheets, white-knuckled.
He’s standing there, arms crossed, chest rising with the subtle power I’ve always hated and loved in equal measure.
“What did you say to me?” he asks, his voice deceptively composed.
“Which time?” My venom-laced eyes snap to meet his.
He blinks, trying to understand that I’m not the girl who tiptoes around him, the girl who whispers to get attention. Not right now. Not after last night.
“I told you,” I continue, sliding out from under the blanket and forcing myself upright, “to fuck off.”
He hesitates, blinking slowly, trying to figure out who I’ve become.
“Because I don’t want to be near you,” I add tightly, brimming with everything I’ve been holding in—the humiliation, the longing, the fury. “Get me Enzo or literally anyone else to run with.”
“Ace…” He steps forward, tone softening, like he’s trying to reason, to reach me. “Don’t do this. I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m not—”
“Not my boyfriend. Yeah, I know,” I cut him off.
I throw the blanket aside completely, leaving only my white tank top to cover me.
Vulnerable? Maybe. But more than that, I’m angry, aching, and frustrated with myself for wanting him, even after last night. His gaze drops—too long, too intent—but snaps back when he realizes what he’s looking at. I feel a heat spike along my spine, blood hammering through every vein.
“She doesn’t mean anything to you,” I spit, shaking and raw. “So why the hell would you think it’s okay to bring her here? Into my home? Into my kitchen? Into my life?”
He opens his mouth, then closes it. Confusion, guilt, something else flickers across his face. And I hate it. Hate that he doesn’t fully understand. He should know me by now.
I shift and see his eyes drop again. My pulse kicks higher. “Take your eyes off my chest, and listen carefully,” I warn, “I am a De Luca. I deserve the same respect and loyalty you give Enzo. And you, disrespecting me, in my house. That’s grounds for Hank to rip your throat out.”
