Bound By Honor (Bound By Blood #1)

Chapter 1

1

AURORA POV

Every clink of silverware feels like a chain tightening around my throat. This is not a dinner; it’s a display of power disguised as a family gathering.

The grand dining room suffocates me with its opulence—crystal chandeliers casting shadows that dance across the mahogany table, the scent of aged wine mingling with lingering cigar smoke. My brothers occupy their spaces like kings at court, but I’m drowning in the silence between their words.

From my peripheral vision, I catch Luciano’s tall figure as he moves silently through the connecting room, pausing briefly at Dominic’s shoulder to whisper something in his ear. My brother’s expression darkens, and Luciano withdraws to the shadows again, but not before his gaze catches mine for a fraction of a second.

Even that brief contact sends a shiver down my spine, a treacherous reminder of how his mere presence affects me. I recognize the danger he represents, yet my body craves it anyway.

“Aurora.” Dominic’s voice cuts through the quiet like a blade. “You missed the charity gala last weekend.”

The wine turns bitter in my mouth at Dominic’s words. My fingers tremble against the crystal stem, and I force them still, knowing he tracks every sign of weakness.

I grip my fork tighter, the metal cool against my palm. “I was feeling unwell.”

“Bullshit.” He sets down his wine glass with deliberate precision. “You were seen at that art gallery opening downtown.”

“Ah, our little rebel princess strikes again,” Enzo chimes in, his smile sharp beneath its charm. “Though I have to admit, choosing culture over mindless social climbing? That’s almost respectable.”

Marco’s quiet scoff draws my attention. He hasn’t spoken all evening, but his dark eyes miss nothing. The weight of their combined scrutiny makes my skin prickle.

“The gallery was educational,” I counter, lifting my chin. “Unlike watching socialites compete for marriage prospects.”

“The Rossi family was there,” Dominic says, his voice carrying a weight that makes me still. “Their eldest son asked about you specifically.”

The Rossis—our fiercest rivals—have been gunning our men down at the central docks for weeks now. Each day brings news of another ambush or another body. Just yesterday, we lost two more soldiers.

I catch the shadows under Dominic’s eyes, the new lines etched around his mouth. He hasn’t slept properly since the war started, carrying each death like a personal failure.

The tension between our families has turned Chicago’s underworld into a powder keg, and now they’re asking about me?

The implication hangs heavy in the air—their interest is both a threat and an opportunity. One wrong move could escalate the brewing war, but the right one... I see the calculation in Dominic’s eyes, mixed with a weariness I’m not used to seeing in my strongest brother.

A marriage alliance could end the bloodshed, secure the docks, and save our men. He’s trying to be the leader Mamma trained him to be—protecting our family while minimizing the bloodshed. My rebellion isn’t just about my freedom anymore; it’s about the delicate balance of power my brothers maintain, the lives hanging in the balance.

“Marriage prospects are exactly what you should be considering,” Dominic continues, his tone hardening even as his fingers trace the rim of his wine glass—a tell he only shows when the burden of command weighs heaviest. “You’re twenty-one, Aurora. It’s time you embraced your responsibilities to this family.”

The words hit like a physical blow. “My responsibilities? You mean being paraded around like a prize mare at auction?”

“Watch your tone,” Marco warns, finally breaking his silence.

“Or what?” Heat floods my cheeks. “You’ll ground me? Lock me in my tower? Oh wait, you already do that.”

Enzo leans forward, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Come now, sorella . The tower has excellent wifi. And those guards? They’re for your protection.”

“Protection from what?” I demand. “You never tell me anything real. It’s all secrets and shadows and ‘trust us, we know best.’ ”

“Because we do know best,” Dominic’s voice drops lower, his tone dangerous. “There are things you don’t understand?—“

“Then help me understand!” The words explode from me, echoing off the walls. “I’m not a child anymore, Dom. I deserve to know what’s really happening in this family.”

A heavy silence falls. Dominic exchanges glances with Marco, something unspoken passing between them. Even Enzo’s perpetual smirk fades.

“Some things,” Dominic finally says, “are better left buried.”

The phrase sends a chill down my spine. “What things?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw as he glances at his phone, the screen casting an eerie glow on his face. Whatever he sees makes him exchange a loaded look with Luciano, who’s materialized again in the doorway. The tension in the room thickens, and I catch fragments of their silent communication—something’s wrong, something immediate and dangerous enough to put both men on edge.

“Enough.” He stands, napkin falling to his plate. “This discussion is over. You will attend the next gala, Aurora. That’s not a request.”

I push back from the table, chair scraping against marble. “I need air.”

The words come out choked, the weight of their secrets and control pressing against my chest like a physical force. The scrape of my chair against marble echoes my racing heartbeat as I flee, each step carrying me further from their suffocating protection and closer to dangerous truths.

“Aurora—” Marco starts, but I’m already moving.

“Let her go,” I hear Enzo say as I flee. “She needs to cool off.”

The garden feels like a prison with prettier walls, but at least out here, the air isn’t oppressive with cigar smoke and my brothers’ demands. Spring moonlight bathes the roses in silver, their thorns casting jagged shadows across the path. I inhale deeply, letting the floral-scented breeze wash away the dining room’s suffocation.

Movement catches my eye—a window left open on the second floor, voices drifting down. I edge closer, keeping to the shadows.

“—can’t keep her in the dark forever,” Enzo’s voice carries clearly.

“We have to,” Dominic responds. “If she knew about Mamma—about what really happened that night, about who—” He cuts himself off, frustration evident in his tone.

“The Rossis are getting bold,” Marco interjects. “If they start digging into old wounds...”

“Shh!” Marco’s harsh whisper cuts him off. “Windows.”

My heart pounds against my ribs. They’re talking about Mamma’s death—a topic that’s been strictly forbidden since it happened. I strain to hear more, but they’ve moved away from the window. Their hushed voices echo in my mind, dragging me back six years to that terrible night.

I was fifteen when they told me she was dead. The memory hits me with brutal clarity—the heavy silence that fell over the house, the grief etched into my brothers’ faces, and Dominic’s stern mask as he delivered the news. My lungs forgot how to breathe, and my knees hit the marble floor as my world shattered around me.

“It wasn’t an accident,” Marco had whispered to Enzo in the study, thinking I was asleep. “The brake lines?—”

“Enough,” Dominic cut in sharply. “She doesn’t need to know. None of this leaves this room.”

The scent of Mamma’s Chanel No. 5 still clung to her silk scarves that night, each breath I took of it a knife to my chest. My fingers trembled against the silk, desperate to memorize its texture while her scent still lived in the threads while my brothers discussed ‘cleaning up’ downstairs. The perfume bottle slipped from my shaking hands, shattering like my world.Now, standing in the moonlit garden, that same floral scent drifts past on the breeze, and my throat tightens. They never told me the truth about her death, just fed me platitudes about car accidents and fate.

I shake off the memory, but the questions remain. What really happened to Mamma? What secrets died with her?

I feel him before I see him—a presence so controlled it feels like gravity itself has shifted. Turning slowly, I find Luciano Vitale watching me from the garden’s edge.

The family’s consigliere and my brother’s best friend cuts an imposing figure in his tailored suit, moonlight highlighting the sharp planes of his face. Power radiates from him in quiet waves—not the brute force of my brothers, but something subtler, more dangerous.

His reputation within the family is legendary; he’s the man they send when situations require a delicate touch rather than a show of force. The whispers about him paint a picture of brilliant brutality wrapped in elegant restraint. Yet when he looks at me, I see something else entirely, something that makes my pulse race and my skin prickle with awareness.

He was there that night too, I remember suddenly. Standing like a shadow behind Dominic, his eyes full of something that looked almost like regret.

“Eavesdropping, Principessa?” His voice is low, smooth as aged whiskey.

Heat creeps up my neck. “I was just getting some air.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” The ghost of a smile plays at his lips.

“Why? Are you going to report me to my brothers?”

He takes a step closer, and my pulse jumps. “That depends. What did you hear?”

“Nothing useful,” I admit. “Just another reminder that I’m the only one in this family kept in the dark.”

“Sometimes darkness is safer than light.” His eyes lock with mine, intense enough to steal my breath. “Some truths burn, Aurora.”

“I’d rather burn than suffocate.”

Something flashes in his gaze—admiration? Warning? He moves closer still, close enough that I catch the spicy notes of his cologne. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“Why do you all say that? Be careful, be good, be quiet.” I step toward him, eliminating more distance. “What are you really protecting me from?”

“Everything.” The word comes out rough, almost pained. “And nothing.”

Voices drift from the house—my brothers, probably looking for me. Luciano tenses, though he doesn’t step back.

“You should go inside,” he says softly.

His hand comes up, hesitating near my face as if he wants to brush back a stray strand of my hair but thinks better of it. The phantom touch burns anyway, and I find myself swaying toward him before I can stop myself.

My breath catches as his scent surrounds me—spice and leather and something darker. His eyes drop to my parted lips for just a moment, but it’s enough to make my heart stutter against my ribs, a betrayal my brothers would never forgive.

“I don’t want to.”

“Aurora.” My name on his lips sounds like a prayer and a warning. “Please.”

The moment stretches between us, electric with possibility. Then footsteps approach on the gravel path, and reality crashes back.

“Until next time, Principessa .” He melts into the shadows, leaving me with more questions than answers and the lingering sensation of his presence like a brand on my skin.

I turn toward the house, my mind racing. They’re hiding something—something big enough to make even Luciano nervous. And one way or another, I’m going to find out what it is.

Let them keep their secrets. Let them think their walls can hold me. Luciano’s dark gaze promises answers I’ve craved for years, even as warning bells sound in my head. Dominic’s voice echoes in my memory— ‘The family must come first’ —but the conflict between my need for the truth and my duty to the family makes my chest tight. One way or another, I’ll uncover the truth, even if it burns us all.