“We’re getting you out of here,” I say, leaving no room for argument. Troy sends a half-hearted grin my way, but it’s weak, his usual cocky energy flickering like a dying flame.
“Shit, C, I thought I was supposed to be protecting you.” I don’t laugh. My stomach plummets, my blood turning to ice. Aria’s words claw through my mind’s chaos.How can you even sleep at night knowing someone died because of your choices?
I press my hands against Troy’s wound, making him wince. His eyes flutter, his lips parting, but no words come.
“Troy, stay with me.”
Thirty
“In this mobster life, peace is a luxury, and she’s the only thing I ever wanted that didn’t bleed.” – Cyan MacBrady.
As the Mercedes-Maybach S-Class Pullman rolls to a smooth stop in front of J&G Accounting, I roll down the window. The second Johnny steps out and Aria follows, my pulse settles. Seeing her loosens something tight in my chest. Days of hell, violence, and all it takes is one look at her to remind me I’m still human enough to care.
The image of Troy, bloody and unconscious, flashes through my brain. The sound of his breath hitching as my fingers fumbled against the wound, as the world slowed. “We need to move!” My voice, raw and desperate. Some leader I am. The fucking panic that overtook me, I almost became that kid again, trapped in my own mind weak. My fists clench, and I remind myself. Troy survived… the Vista was burnt to cinders. I thank all that is holy—if it weren’t for Amir—Collin’s bodyguard—and his medical training, we would’ve lost another member of our family. I force the memory down before it swallows me and focus on her.
Aria walks toward the car, hips swaying, chin up, every inch of her defiant. The way her lips press together like she’s bracing for a fight. But the way she looks at me, or refuses to look, cuts deeper than any knife I’ve taken to the ribs. This woman is the only calmness I’ve known in years. The only light I’ve touched without it burning me, and I know, fuck, I know—that my darkness might suffocate her. I’m forged in ruin. She was born of light, and still…I orbit her like a dying star, chasing a flicker of peace. Johnny opens the door. She slides into the Maybach without sparing me a glance. My jaw ticks. I hate how that silence feels as she ices me out.
“Need me to follow, C?” Johnny asks.
I shake my head. “Nah. I’ll see you at dinner.”
He nods and shuts the door. I settle across from her. The engine hums. The car glides through Crescent Bay. Aria sits stiff and quiet, arms crossed, staring out the window as if the world outside can free her from mine. I need that spark to pull her back to me–to make her react with her fire.
“I assume your week has been thrilling,” I start, my voice dipping into dry amusement.
Her jaw tightens. The muscle there jumps. Her head turns a bit, but not enough to look at me. “Oh, it’s been fantastic. I arrived at work to find out my department head, Simon, had to give up his office for me. Because Johnny and I need to be together at all times, as if he’s my goddamn shadow.”
I grin, but she’s still not looking at me. “How’s that uncomfortable for you?”
Aria whips her head toward me, her dove-brown eyes burning with frustration. Fuck, I missed that fire.
“I’m not in the mood for senseless talk,” she snaps. “Where is my grandmother?”
There she is. My Dove; spitting fire instead of freezing me out. I tip my head back against the seat, considering her, amused at the way she clutches her fist like she’s debating swinging at me. The idea makes my blood run hotter.
“Look, lass, I’ve got an itch for a bit of chit-chat, so do me a favor and answer the question.” It’s a clear taunt on my part. Her nostrils flare. She’s barely holding her temper at bay, and I fucking love it. “Maybe you’ve forgotten who has the upper hand here.”
Aria adjusts her glasses instead of slapping me, which is disappointing. She never wears them outside of work. She’s hiding behind them now, using the frames like a deterrent, as if dulling her edges could make her less tempting to me. It only makes me want to break that shield, to prove how useless it is. I make a mental note that when I finally fuck her, I’m going to make her keep them on while she sucks me off. She digs her nails into the back of her opposite hand before speaking through gritted teeth. “Simon is telling everyone who will listen that I’m fucking you to get a promotion or his job.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Now that’s interesting.”
She rolls her eyes, frustration evident. “Little does that fucktard know, I have no say in anything.”
I bark out a laugh, a genuine one. Her fire is the best fucking thing that’s happened all week. “Tell Simon he’s welcome to take it up with me,” I say, still grinning. “If he doesn’t like the changes, I’ll be happy to... rearrange his priorities.”
A slow, mischievous smile spreads across her face. “That might make Simon shit himself.”
I lean in, my tone dropping into a threatening lilt. “Is he still bothering you?”
“No, not at all. He’s just an asshole, and I can only handle one of you idiots in my life at a time.”
“And who’s the other?” I ask dryly.
She shoots me a pointed look. “You know I’m talking about you, Cyan. Sarcasm does not suit you.” She pauses, adjusting her reading glasses again; the motion too sharp to be habit, but this time her fingers tremble, the frames slipping before she steadies them. The impatience she’s been biting back cracks through her mask. Her foot taps once against the floor, sharp, irritated, and her breath leaves her in a frustrated exhale she can’t hide. When she speaks, the sarcasm is gone. “Please, Cyan. How is my gran?” There it is. The way she says my name. The“please”that tugs at something deep inside me. I retrieve my phone, unlock it, and swipe to the images sent to me earlier today. I hand her the device, watching her eyes take in the photos of her grandmother sitting in a sun-dappled park, smiling, and safe. Aria exhales slowly, relief flickering across her features before she hands me back the phone. “Can I see her?”
“Hmmm—” I tilt my head, watching her as her eyes move back to the window. I wait, expecting the snap, the bite, the fight.
Instead, she surprises me. “Thank you for ensuring my Nonna got some fresh air,” she says quietly. “I want you to know I’m grateful.”
