Bound By Honor (Bound By Blood #1)

Chapter 8

8

AURORA POV

“You’re going to give yourself an aneurysm if you don’t stop scowling,” I tell Luciano, watching his jaw clench as another shopper brushes past us on the crowded sidewalk.

The Magnificent Mile sparkles in the afternoon sun, designer boutiques and well-dressed crowds creating an illusion of normalcy I desperately want to believe in.

“I don’t scowl,” he mutters, dark eyes scanning the crowd with predatory focus. “I observe.”

“You’re terrifying that teenage girl with your ‘observing.’” I nod toward a young shopper who quickly averts her gaze from Luciano’s intimidating presence.

His hand finds the small of my back as we navigate past a tourist group, the touch sending electricity through my spine. “My job is your safety, not making teenagers comfortable.”

“Your job today is to help me find a dress for the gala and try—just try—to act like a normal person for two hours.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “There’s nothing normal about this situation, Principessa .”

He’s right, of course. The security detail shadows us at a careful distance—Marco’s best men positioned at strategic points along the street. But for once, I refuse to let their presence cage me.

“Come on.” I grab his hand, ignoring his sharp intake of breath at the contact. “Saks first. You’re going to help me try on ridiculously expensive dresses, and you’re going to like it.”

“Aurora—”

“Unless you’d prefer I shop alone?” I arch an eyebrow, knowing he won’t risk letting me out of his sight.

The muscle in his jaw ticks. “Fine. But we stay together.”

Inside Saks, the air conditioning and soft music wrap around us like silk. A saleswoman materializes, all professional charm and practiced grace.

“The evening wear collection is this way,” she says, leading us past racks of designer labels. “Any particular style in mind?”

I catch Luciano’s reflection in a mirror, noting how his gaze never stops moving, cataloging exits and potential threats even here. “Something that will make certain people stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”

The saleswoman looks confused, but starts pulling dresses—jewel tones and dramatic cuts that make Luciano’s expression tighten imperceptibly.

“This one.” I select a deep burgundy gown with a dangerously high slit. “I’ll try this first.”

In the fitting room, I deliberately leave the zipper undone. “Luciano? I need help with this.”

His sharp inhale carries through the door. “Get the attendant.”

“She’s busy with another customer. Don’t be difficult.”

A pause, then the door opens just enough for his broad frame to slip inside. The small space immediately feels electric, charged with his presence.

“Turn around,” he commands softly.

I face the mirror, watching his reflection as he steps closer. His fingers brush my bare back as he grips the zipper, and I can’t suppress a shiver.

“Cold?” His voice roughens.

“No.”

He draws the zipper up slowly, his knuckles grazing my spine. Through the mirror, I watch his eyes darken as they follow the movement.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, so quietly I almost miss it.

I turn to face him, the motion bringing us chest to chest in the confined space. “The dress?”

His gaze drops to my lips. “You know damn well it’s not just the dress.”

The air between us thickens with possibility. His cologne surrounds me, making my head spin. One of his hands still rests at the small of my back, burning through the silk.

A sharp knock shatters the moment. “Everything alright in there?”

Luciano steps back, control snapping back into place. “Fine. We’ll take this one.”

The drive home starts peacefully enough. I’m still smiling at Luciano’s grumbled compliments when the first black sedan cuts us off.

“Down!” Luciano’s command comes a split second before bullets shatter our windows. He throws himself over me as our driver swerves violently.

Glass rains around us as more shots ring out. Through the chaos, I hear Luciano barking orders into his phone, his body a shield over mine.

“The safe house on Parker,” he snaps. “Now!”

We screech around a corner, tires squealing. I catch glimpses of our security detail engaging the attackers, but everything’s a blur of motion and gunfire.

“Stay down,” Luciano orders as our driver takes another sharp turn. His hand cups the back of my head, pressing my face against his chest. His heart pounds against my cheek—the only sign that he’s not as calm as he appears.

The safe house looms before us—a three-story brownstone with boards over half its windows, perfectly forgettable among Chicago’s abandoned buildings.

Inside, the stark contrast to Saks’ luxury hits me immediately. Gone are the soft lights and perfumed air, replaced by harsh fluorescents that cast sickly shadows across water-stained walls. The air feels thick with dust and something metallic—gun oil, maybe, or old blood. Every surface is utilitarian—steel tables, reinforced doors, concrete floors that echo each footstep.

The space feels like a tomb compared to the vibrant street life we left behind, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being buried alive in our own fortress. Luciano practically carries me inside, checking every shadow before securing the heavy door behind us.

“Are you hurt?” His hands frame my face, dark eyes searching for injuries. “Aurora, talk to me.”

“I’m fine.” My voice shakes slightly. “Just... processing.”

“You’re bleeding.” His thumb brushes my cheek where flying glass must have cut me.

“It’s nothing.” I catch his wrist before he can pull away. “Luciano, what just happened?”

“The Rossis are getting bold.” He tries to step back, but I hold on.

“That’s not what I meant.” I move closer, feeling his sharp intake of breath. “In the fitting room. In the car. Right now.”

“Aurora—”

“Stop.” I press my palm against his chest, feeling his heart race. “Stop pretending this isn’t real.”

His phone buzzes, breaking the moment. I watch his expression darken as he reads the message.

“What is it?”

He shows me the screen.

Next time, we won’t miss. Give our regards to Alessandro.

“Son of a bitch,” Luciano growls, already dialing. “He set this up. He leaked our location.”

“Alessandro?” Ice slides down my spine. “Why would he?—”

“To prove a point.” Luciano’s voice carries deadly promise. “To show he can get to you whenever he wants.”

“Through you,” I realize. “He’s using me to get to you.”

Luciano’s laugh is bitter. “He’s using everything he can. Maria, you, Luca?—“

“What about Maria?” I step closer, watching his control crack slightly. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Before he can answer, his phone buzzes again. The color drains from his face as he reads.

“What?” I move to see, but he locks the screen.

“We need to move.” He checks his gun, expression hardening. “Now.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Damn it, Aurora!” He slams his palm against the wall beside my head, finally showing real emotion. “You want to know what’s going on? Alessandro didn’t just know Maria before she died—he was obsessed with her. And now he’s fixated on you because you remind him of her.”

The words slam into me with devastating clarity. My stomach churns as pieces click into place—Alessandro’s lingering looks, the way he’d called me “piccola” just like he used to call Maria. A chill crawls up my spine despite the warmth of Luciano’s proximity.

“How long?” My voice sounds strange, distant. “How long was he obsessed with her?”

Luciano’s jaw tightens. “Since before she married me. But Maria chose me, and Alessandro... he never forgave either of us.”

The weight of family loyalty suddenly feels like chains around my throat. How many more secrets are buried in our shared history? How many more ghosts haunt the halls of both our families? I think of Dominic’s warnings about getting too close to Luciano and wonder if he knew this twisted piece of our past.

Luciano’s face is inches from mine, his breath warm against my lips.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“Because I’m supposed to protect you.” Frustration edges his voice. “Not...” He runs a hand through his hair.

“Not what?”

“Not want you like this.” The admission comes out raw, his control finally cracking. “Every moment I spend fighting what I feel for you makes you more of a target. And I can’t—“ His voice roughens with emotion. “I can’t lose anyone else I care about. Not again.”

The admission steals my breath. Before I can respond, gunfire erupts outside. Luciano moves with lethal grace, pushing me behind him as he draws his weapon.

“This ends now,” he growls, and I see the deadly promise in his eyes.

The safe house suddenly feels anything but safe, and I realize we’re trapped between Alessandro’s games and Luciano’s demons. The silence from our security detail speaks volumes—no response on the comms, no movement outside. They’re either dead or incapacitated, leaving us alone until backup arrives.

“Three exits,” Luciano says, voice tight with measured fury. “Front door’s compromised. Back leads to the alley. Garage has a tunnel?—“

More gunfire peppers the building’s exterior. I flinch at the sound, but Luciano remains eerily still, like a predator assessing its prey.

“The tunnel,” he decides. “But first—” He moves to a panel in the wall, entering a code that reveals a hidden arsenal. “Put this on.”

He hands me a bulletproof vest, his fingers lingering as they brush mine. The kevlar feels heavy, foreign against my designer dress.

“Lovely accessory,” I quip, trying to mask my nerves. “Really completes the outfit.”

His lips twitch despite the situation. “Only you would joke during an ambush.” He checks his phone again, expression darkening. “Marco’s team is three minutes out. We need to move.”

“Luciano.” I catch his arm before he can turn away. “About what you said—about caring?—”

“Not now.” But his voice softens, and his free hand comes up to cup my cheek. “Later. If we survive this.”

“When,” I correct him. “When we survive this.”

A crash from the front of the building cuts off his response. Footsteps approach—too many to count.

“Stay behind me,” Luciano orders, leading us toward the garage. “No matter what happens?—”

“If you tell me to run and leave you, I swear to God?—”

“Stubborn woman.” He yanks open the garage door, checking the shadows before pulling me through. “You’re going to get us both killed.”

“Better than living with regrets.”

He turns sharply, backing me against the nearest wall. His eyes burn with something fierce and protective. “You want to talk about regrets? How about the regret of watching someone you care about die because they were too stubborn to listen?”

“Is that what happened with Maria?”

Pain flashes across his features. “Aurora?—”

A bullet whizzes past, embedding itself in the wall inches from my head. Luciano moves with deadly grace, shoving me behind a concrete pillar as he returns fire.

“Two on the left,” he calls out, his voice carrying that dangerous edge I’ve come to recognize. “More coming from the?—”

The lights cut out, plunging us into darkness. I feel Luciano’s body tense against mine, shielding me from whatever comes next.

“Well, well.” Alessandro’s voice echoes through the garage. “Isn’t this cozy?”

“Show yourself, you coward,” Luciano growls.

Alessandro’s laugh bounces off the concrete walls. “Now why would I do that when this game is so much more entertaining?”

“This isn’t a game.” Luciano’s arm tightens around my waist. “These are people’s lives.”

“Everything’s a game, fratello . You taught me that.” A pause, then, “Remember that night at the Rossi compound? When you chose duty over family?”

“You know that’s not what happened. I taught you survival,” Luciano growls. “I taught you family.”

Alessandro’s laugh echoes off concrete. “Family? Like when you took Father’s side about the Colombo deal? Or perhaps you mean family like when you married the woman you knew I loved?”

“You were obsessed, not in love. Maria saw it—everyone saw it.”

“Yet here you are again, brother. Another woman, another betrayal. Tell me, does sweet Aurora know about the night Maria really died? About the choice you made?”

I feel Luciano’s body coil against mine, pure rage radiating off him in waves. His next words come out like ice. “You lost the right to speak her name when you disappeared that night. When you left us to clean up your mess.”

“Don’t I?” Alessandro’s voice moves closer. “Just like you chose duty over Maria? Over Aurora?”

My breath catches. Luciano’s body coils with tension, ready to strike.

“You want me,” Luciano says carefully. “Fine. Let her go, and we’ll settle this.”

“Luciano, no—” I start to protest, but his hand covers my mouth.

“Sweet Aurora.” Alessandro’s voice drips with false concern. “So willing to die for love. Just like Maria.”

“What do you know about Maria’s death?” I demand, pushing Luciano’s hand away.

“Oh, piccola . I know everything.” A shadow moves in the darkness. “Including who really killed her.”

Luciano’s whole body goes rigid. “You son of a?—”

Gunfire erupts again, but this time it’s different—coming from outside the garage. I hear Marco’s voice shouting orders, then the screech of tires on pavement.

“Cavalry’s here.” Alessandro sighs dramatically. “Time to cut this reunion short.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Luciano snarls, but more shots ring out, and I hear the distinct sound of a motorcycle engine revving.

“Until next time, fratello .” Alessandro’s voice fades. “Give my love to Luca.”

The lights flicker back on, revealing an empty garage save for three unconscious attackers. Luciano’s men stream in, securing the perimeter, but Alessandro is long gone.

I turn to Luciano, seeing the barely contained fury in his eyes. “What did he mean about Maria?”

“Not here.” He grabs my hand, pulling me toward a waiting SUV. “We need to get you somewhere safe.”

“Safe?” I laugh bitterly. “There is no safe. Not anymore.”

He stops, turning to face me. In the harsh fluorescent lights, I see every emotion he usually hides—fear, rage, and something deeper that makes my heart race.

“I won’t let him hurt you,” he says roughly. “Whatever game he’s playing?—“

“This isn’t just about me.” I step closer, refusing to let him retreat behind his walls. “He mentioned Luca. And Maria. Whatever’s really going on, I deserve to know.”

For a moment, I think he’ll shut down again. But then his hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing over the cut on my cheek.

“You’re right.” His voice roughens. “But not here. Not now.”

“Then when?”

His eyes search mine, and I see the moment his repression cracks. He pulls me closer, one hand tangling in my hair as his lips crash into mine. The kiss is desperate, hungry, full of all the words we haven’t said. I grip his shirt, tasting danger and need and something that feels terrifyingly like hope.

When he finally pulls back, we’re both panting. His forehead rests against mine, one hand still tangled in my hair while the other grips my waist like an anchor.

“After we get out of here,” he promises roughly. “Back at the mansion, when you’re safe—I’ll tell you everything.”

“Everything?” I search his eyes, seeing the war between protection and truth.

“Everything.” He brushes his thumb across my lower lip, gentle despite his callused hands. “No more secrets between us. But Aurora—” His expression darkens with something like fear. “Once you know, there’s no going back. Alessandro, Maria, the night everything changed—it could destroy us both.”

I press my palm against his chest, feeling his heart race beneath my touch. “I’m already in this, Luciano. Whatever demons we’re facing, whatever secrets you’re carrying—let me help you fight them.”

His kiss this time is softer, a seal to our pact. As we drive through Chicago’s darkening streets, his hand stays linked with mine. In the window’s reflection, I study his profile—the sharp jaw, the vigilant eyes, the weight of unspoken words still heavy on his shoulders.

Tomorrow, everything changes. Tomorrow, we face Alessandro’s games and Maria’s ghosts together. But tonight, in this moment between danger and truth, I choose to believe in us—in this fierce, fragile thing we’re building in the shadows of our families’ sins.

God help anyone who tries to tear it down.