Her voice is sleepy, almost dreaming.
“Are you going home this weekend?” I ask.
“Yes, I’ve been summoned, not sure why.” Her voice is low, but I can hear the annoyance in it.
“Then I will see you Monday, just make me this one promise.” I lift her head to look at me. “No matter what happens, promise me you’ll be strong. I need some time to figure this out with my family.” She gives me the slightest nod and lays her head back on my chest. “No matter what I will fight for us, you have to promise to fight as well.”
“I promise.” The whisper comes out slow, soft, but it’s the only two words I needed to hear right now.
The ride home is silent.The kind of silence that hums under your skin.
My brothers sit beside me, shoulder to shoulder, eyes fixed ahead. None of us speak. We don’t have to. We’re all thinking the same thing.
This is it.
The moment that could end everything.
The car stops outside the estate, gravel crunching beneath the tires. My pulse is a hammer in my throat. I flex my hands, but the tension won’t leave it’s buried too deep.
We move as one through the corridors. Our footsteps echo against the marble, the sound hollow and steady like a heartbeat. The Messina mansion smells of leather, cigars, and ghosts. These walls have seen blood spilled, alliances broken, kingdoms built.
Now I’m walking into it to tell the man who built it all, the man who taught me never to flinch, that I’ve fallen for an O’Brien.
The enemy.
Brilliant, Matteo. Real fucking brilliant.
We find him where he always is behind the old oak desk, the air thick with cigar smoke and old paper. The scent hits first, sharp and heavy, the kind that clings to skin.
His silver hair gleams under the lamplight. The black suit. The stillness. Hands steepled like a judge already waiting on a confession.
He looks up when we enter, that slow, knowing smile spreading across his lined face. The silence stretches. His gazemoves from me to Marco to Milo, measuring. We stand like soldiers called to account.
“You know why they fear us?”
No one answers. We’ve heard this sermon our entire lives.
He leans forward, elbows on the desk. “Because you three stand together. One falls, the others rise. One bleeds, the others kill. That’s what makes us unbreakable.”
The words should feel like armor. Instead, they cut. The pride in his voice makes what I’m about to say feel like betrayal.
His smile fades. “But if you’re standing together now, it means something is wrong.” His eyes sharpen, predator eyes. “So, whoever’s done something wrong, step forward.”
Marco and Milo move back without a word.
The sound of their boots on the marble lands like a verdict and I’m left standing alone.
“So,” he says, voice calm enough to chill bone. “Is it a girl?” A pause. A flicker in his eyes. “Or have you killed someone?”
My throat tightens, but I force the words out. “Her name’s O’Brien.”
The moment her name leaves my mouth, the air shifts.
The room freezes.
The temperature drops, sharp as a blade drawn across skin.
Grandfather’s smile vanishes. His stillness turns predatory. Every breath feels too loud, too dangerous. The silence presses in, heavy as a hand around my throat.
