“No,” came the simple reply.
They moved toward the door together and I followed. Headlights flared before doors opened and shut. I tracked them until the car pulled away from the curb, Alessia in the passenger seat, her head tipped back against the window, exhaustion finally claiming her. Remo followed in his car.
Aware of the route they’d take, I tagged along the rooftops, leaping narrow gaps, sliding down angled slats and keeping pace like a stray shadow tethered to his bumper, just long enough to see the car stop outside the building they assumed was safe from me. One of his men helped her out, arm around her waist, guiding her inside while Remo watched until the doors closed behind her.
Only then did he leave.
I lingered a moment longer, the city wind threading through my clothes, carrying the resonance of sea salt, smoke and the faint echo of his presence before I peeled away from the edge and let the night swallow me whole. The streets opened beneath my feet, and I moved through them without thought, slipping between alleyways and fire escapes, my body guided by something deeper than intention.
Remo was going home. And so was I. Because every path I walked, no matter how far I tried to stray, curved back toward him like gravity, relentless and absolute, pulling me closer to theonly place my pulse ever felt steady, the only place that ever felt like anything resembling home.
thirteen
. . .
Remo– 36 years old
By the time Alessia disappeared into the building, the night had settled into a suffocating quiet. The lobby lights flickered once before stabilizing, casting long, distorted shapes across the marble floor. One of my men guided her through the door, his hand hovering near his holster, but she didn’t look back. Walking stiffly, she favored her left side. Pride or perhaps embarrassment prevented her from telling me exactly where it hurt but she’d tell Rayden when he visited, of that I was certain, they’d become good friends.
Regardless, I knew she was shaken, more from the red eyes, her terrified reaction to them more than the actual fight, said as much. I’d seen them firsthand, so I understood her shock.
I waited until the elevator doors swallowed them before turning back to the car. The engine roared to life, a harsh sound in the stillness, but it didn’t drown the echo of Alessia’s words in my head.
“She said she was watching you, protecting you…”
Protecting me from what?
I merged into traffic, the city lights blurring into streaks of neon and gold. The windows were open to a crack, letting in the smell of rain and exhaust, but the air inside the car felt heavy.
The first time the idea of a stalker surfaced, I figured it was a rival family testing my perimeter. Then I thought it was a hunter looking for a bounty. After tonight and the attack on the cartel scum, I accepted something far more dangerous lived in my shadow.
My curiosity had escalated.
I pulled into the underground garage of my building and killed the engine. The silence rushed back in, instant and absolute. I sat there for a moment, listening to the tick of the cooling metal, feeling the weight of the gun beneath my jacket. With Duke under my brother’s care since my incident, I should’ve called security, had my penthouse swept before stepping inside.
Instead, I walked through the lobby with a nod to the concierge, took the private elevator to the top floor, and stepped into the apartment. The darkness was waiting for me, a subtle shift in the air the moment I crossed the threshold. Without turning the lights on, I moved through the living room, my steps silent on the hardwood, and slid the glass door to the balcony open. The wind hit my face, cool and damp, carrying the taste of the river. Nearing the railing, I rested my hands on the cold steel, looking out over the skyline. The city hummed below me, oblivious to the predator standing in its shadow.
“I know you’re there,” I said calmly, a few minutes later.
Nothing moved. No sound betrayed her. But I sensed the change in the silence behind me. It grew denser, focused. She was perched somewhere in the blind spot above the doorframe, or maybe on the ledge under the railing, close enough to hear my heartbeat.
“Somehow, you’re everywhere and you’ve proven how dangerous you are. Regardless, I have no idea what your end game is. But Alessia is family,” I continued without turning around. “She’s just a kid who was dealt a wrong hand and ended up as my brother’s wife.” A sudden movement suggested she didn’t like that. “He’s not a pervert, he did it to save her from her abusive father. Lorenzo’s never touched her, neither did I. What we did was protect her, gave her freedom to choose, trained her to fight for her rights.”
A shadow shifted on my far left, barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention. And even though my back was to her, I knew she was watching my every breath.
“I don’t know what or who you are and strangely, not even one of the best hackers in the world can fathom you,” I confessed. “A threat. A guardian angel. A ghost.” My rings tapped the metal railing, and I turned my head slightly, just enough to let her see the sharp line of my jaw, my profile, my certainty. “But Alessia is family. Blood doesn’t matter in my world, loyalty does. You could have killed her tonight, and you didn’t because you wanted me to know you were close. Now I do.”
The wind picked up, whipping my jacket against my back, but the cold didn’t reach me. I felt her attention like a physical weight between my shoulder blades.
“She isn’t what you think she is to me,” I explained, the honesty a strange taste on my tongue. “There’s nothing there. No romance. No weakness. No promises. She’s a soldier, nothing more.” I let the statement hang there, suspended in the dark, a mere clarification. If this was a game of territory, I needed her to know the boundaries.
Silence persisted.
“If you come for me.” My voice dropped an octave. “You come just for me. But if you touch her again, I won’t hunt you.” I paused, letting the implication settle. “I’ll erase you.”
For a second, I thought she might strike. I welcomed it, wanting to feel the speed of her strength, curious if the fire in my gut was matched by the steel in her hand. A beat. Then another.
“I don’t care that you’ve deleted women I’ve fucked in the past, however, if you want to protect me, then stop.” Two fucking years I’d remained celibate to prevent becoming a viable suspect until that night at the cemetery with the woman I was now certain was my stalker.
