His hand drifts down my back, presses at my hip. My jaw aches from holding still. He smells of cigars and old whiskey, of power stripped of kindness.
The party has started; the air is thick with pride. Glasses raised. Laughter like thunder.
I walk away from the man to the edge of the room wanting to get some fresh air. A moment to breathe, a moment of peace.
“This alliance will secure Hollow Edge.” I hear my father’s voice. I lean in closer, knowing I shouldn’t, but unable to stop myself. “The Russians have allies with the Italians, who have most of the ports. We take this marriage, and we control some of the ports.”
“They think they’re untouchable,” Uncle Liam says, his voice low, laced with venom. “The Messinas have held that dock for too long. It’s time we send a reminder we’re still here.” My ears sharpen. I lean closer without moving. “Strike during the next shipment run. That Messina dock? It’s exposed. Just outside city control.”
“They’ll retaliate,” someone mutters. “They didn’t when blood was spilled but they will come this time.”
“They won’t know it was us. Not until it’s too late.”
The words hit hard. They’re planning an attack. Matteo’s family.
I walk away before anyone notices I’m listening. The cold air hits like a slap. Silence folds around me. It doesn’t feel like safety—it feels like betrayal.
Conor finds me on the back veranda, sitting on the swing watching my mother and aunt laughing and dancing. His expression isn’t warm. It never is anymore.
“I spoke to Father,” he says without preamble. “I’m trying to talk him down. Give you time. Let you finish school.”
I turn slowly, surprised. “Why?”
“Because I’m not the monster you think I am, Aoife” he says.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
He leans against the swing. “You hate me for playing the game. But I didn’t make the rules, I’m just picking up the pieces and learning.”
“Then why do you play them so damn well?”
He stares at me for a long second. “The one who watches you like you’re already his. The one who touches you with his eyes.” My body tenses, but I say nothing because if he knew what was happening, I’m sure he would have told Father and Uncle Liam. “You think he cares about you? Think again. He’s a Messina.” He spits the name like poison. “They killed our people in the past. The blood will always be there.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “And who was the one who spilled the first blood?” I ask. Long before us, back in my great-grandfather’s time, they fought. Blood on both sides. A truce followed. Peace held until the wedding. Then the knives came out again.
“In this family, it doesn’t matter. Blood stays fresh. He’s not watching you because you’re special, Aoife. He’s watching you because he’s hunting. He’s using you, not for a weapon. Just to break you.”
“I don’t believe you, plus I haven’t even spoken to him,” I whisper.
“Believe what you want,” he says. “But I won’t let him hurt you, nor will he talk to you while I’m watching.”
His voice isn’t protective. It's a warning. Sharp and unbending.
Maybe Conor’s right. Or maybe Matteo’s the only one who ever saw me.
And I don’t know which one scares me more.
Conor being right about Matteo using me, or Conor being wrong, and what I feel for Matteo will be too much. I won’t be able to breathe without him next to me.
Chapter 18
Matteo
Rain runs down the marble, turningCaterina Messina’sname into a blur. It’s always raining when we visit, the storm never misses. It knows she was taken too early, the way was too cruel for her.
We line up in silence. Grandfather, then Father, my brothers, me, black coats stiff against the wind. Uncle Luca and his family, Aunt Camila with hers. No umbrellas, we let the rain pour over us.
Grandfather kneels, rosary sliding between his fingers, metal clicking like a clock counting down. His lips move, but no sound comes.
