Beside me, the air feels stagnant, heavy with the weight of things left unsaid. Across from me, Laura is curled up on a sofa, finally asleep under a heavy wool blanket. She looks so small, her dark curls fanned out against the cushion, her chest rising and falling in the first peaceful rhythm she’s had since the O'Rourkes took her.
She’s safe. That’s the only thing that matters. Even if the man who saved her never wants to look at me again.
I should feel victorious. The Brotherhood won. My father is dead. The Irish are scattered. But as I stare at the closed bedroom door, all I feel is a hollow, aching dread. Rafael hasn’t spoken to me since we left the De Luca compound. He brought us here, handed us over to the medical staff, and vanished into the war room with Matteo and the others.
He’s going to send me away.Why wouldn't he? I was the leak. I was the knife at his back. Even if I turned it on my father in the end, I’m still a De Luca. I’m still the girl who lied every time he kissed her.
The thought is a jagged piece of glass in my throat.
A soft click at the door makes me jump. I’m on my feet before it even opens, my "Ghost Heiress" mask snapping into place, though my heart is trying to hammer its way out of my ribs.
Rafael walks in.
He’s changed his clothes. The blood-stained tactical gear is gone, replaced by a black suit, the fabric perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders. His white shirt is crisp and stark against his tanned skin, the top button open just enough to hint at the power beneath. He looks lethal. He looks like the King of the East. He looks like a man who has just finished a harvest and has no room in his life for a traitor.
He stops in the center of the room, his green eyes scanning the space until they land on me. He doesn't say a word. He just stands there, the sexual tension between us so thick it feels like it’s vibrating in the air—a low-frequency hum that makes thehair on my arms stand up. Even now, with the wreckage of my betrayal between us, I want to cross the room and bury my face in his chest. I want to find out if the "quiet space" he found in me is still there, or if it burned down at the compound.
"Laura is okay. She’s... stable," I whisper, my voice sounding thin, like it’s being dragged over gravel. I gesture to the sofa. "The doctor said she just needs sleep. And time to forget."
Rafael looks at the sleeping girl for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he looks back at me, his gaze sharpening. "She’s under Brotherhood protection now, Gia. Her safety is my authority. No one touches her. Ever again."
"I know. Thank you. For everything." I wrap my arms around myself, a stubborn, defensive movement to keep from shaking. "So... what happens now? Is the car waiting to take me to the airport? Or is there a basement in this house too? I assume you don’t have much use for a spy who failed her mission."
Rafael’s jaw tightens, a muscle feathering at the hinge. He walks toward me, his pace slow and predatory, until he’s standing right in front of me. He reaches out, his large hand cupping the side of my neck, his thumb grazing my jawline.
"You think I’m letting you go?" he asks, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
"I betrayed you, Rafael! I spied on you. I memorized your life and handed it to a man who wanted you in a casket." I'm crying now, the tears finally breaking through the wall of my pride. "I let you love me while I was destroying you."
"And then you handed me his head," Rafael counters, his fingers tightening slightly, pulling me closer until our chests are almosttouching. "You gave me the trap. You saved my men. You chose me over your own blood when it mattered most. You didn't fail your mission, Gia. You changed sides."
"I lied to you," I sob.
He leans in, his lips ghosting over my forehead, a touch so tender it hurts more than his anger would. "You’re the only liar I’ve ever wanted to keep. Now, get dressed. There’s a formal assembly. The Brotherhood is waiting for their Don. And I’m not going down there alone."
"Rafael, they’ll kill me. Dante and Enzo—they know. They want my head on a pike."
"They want whatever I tell them to want," he growls, his eyes darkening with a possessive fire. "And right now, they need to see exactly who you are to me. "
The conference room breathes with the heavy, masculine energy of victory.
It’s filled with men dressed in dark suits, their faces grim and battle-hardened. The air is thick with the scent of expensive cigars and success. At the far end, Matteo is seated at the head of a massive table. Dante and Enzo are beside him, looking like twin pillars of violence.
I’m standing at the back, my hand tucked into the crook of Rafael’s arm. I’m wearing a black dress that fits like a second skin, my hair falling in dark waves over my shoulders. I feel like I’m walking to my own execution. Every eye in the room is on me as we move down the center aisle. I can hear the whispers—the sharp, jagged mentions of the "De Luca girl" and "the rat."
Rafael doesn't flinch. He leads me forward, his head held high, his grip on my arm a steady, unyielding anchor. We reach the Matteo, and the room goes silent—the kind of silence that happens right before a storm breaks.
"Rafael," Matteo says, his voice carrying the absolute authority of a Don. He stands up, his gaze moving from Rafael to me with a calculation that makes my skin crawl. "The war is over. The O'Rourkes are gone. The De Luca threat is eliminated. We are here to acknowledge the victory and the price paid."
A man stands up, his eyes narrowing as he looks at me. "The price was almost Rafael’s life, Matteo. We had an infiltrator in our midst. A spy who fed our movements to the Irish for weeks. Why is she standing here instead of in a cell? Why is a De Luca breathing Brotherhood air?"
The room murmurs in agreement—a low, dangerous growl of several hundred men. I feel the stubbornness flare in my chest, my jaw tightening.
I won't beg. I won't cry. If they want to kill me, they can do it while I’m looking them in the eye.
Rafael lets go of my arm. He steps forward, standing between me and the rest of the Brotherhood. He looks at Dante, then at Enzo, and finally at Matteo.
"She was sent here as a spy," Rafael says, his voice projecting to the very back of the hall. It’s a cold, hard sound that silences every whisper. "She was not even informed that she was going to marry me, she was just brought to the church and handed to me. She was given orders to dismantle us from the inside. She was used by a father who saw her as nothing more than a pieceof currency to be spent. She had no choice, he threatened to kill her kid sister. "
