Chapter 11
11
AURORA POV
The leather seat is cold beneath me, but the ice in Marco’s voice cuts deeper. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. Luciano could be dead, and I might never know the truth.
My chest constricts with each ragged breath, hands trembling as I press them against my thighs. The taste of copper fills my mouth—I’ve been biting my lip so hard it bleeds.
“For Christ’s sake, Aurora, stop crying.” Marco’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel. “What did you think would happen? That Dom would just accept this?”
I press my forehead against the tinted window, watching Chicago’s lights blur through my tears. “Just tell me if he’s alive.”
“Why? So you can run back to him?” His laugh is bitter. “Look what good that did either of you.”
“Marco, please.” My voice cracks. “I need to know.”
He’s silent for so long I think he won’t answer. Finally, he sighs. “He’s enroute to the hospital. That’s all I know.”
Relief floods me, followed immediately by crushing guilt. “This is my fault.”
“Damn right it is.” But his voice softens slightly. “What were you thinking, piccola ? Luciano of all people?”
“I love him.”
The words hang in the air between us. Marco curses under his breath.
“Love?” He shakes his head. “You’re twenty-one. You don’t know what love is.”
“I know it feels like my heart’s being ripped out.” I wrap my arms around myself, fighting fresh tears. “I know I can’t breathe thinking he might?—“
“Stop.” Marco’s tone brooks no argument. “Just... stop. Dom’s waiting at the mansion. He needs to handle this before word gets out.”
Fear coils in my stomach. “Handle what?”
“You really don’t get it, do you?” He meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. “This isn’t just about you and Luciano. The Rossis are looking for any excuse to break the peace treaty. An affair between the consigliere and the Don’s sister? That’s ammunition.”
“It wasn’t an affair?—“
“No?” His voice turns sharp again. “What would you call fucking your brother’s best friend in a safe house?”
Heat floods my cheeks. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Save it for Dom.” We pull through the mansion gates. “He’s the one you need to convince.”
The house looms before us, dark and imposing. Two guards flank the entrance, their expressions carefully blank. I’ve never felt more like a prisoner in my own home.
Marco escorts me inside, his grip unyielding. The mansion’s marble floors echo our footsteps like a funeral march, each sound amplified by the oppressive silence. Family portraits line the walls, generations of Salvatores watching with judgmental eyes as I pass. The air feels thicker here, heavy with disappointment and unspoken accusations.
Dominic waits by my window, his back to the door. The silence stretches, thick with tension.
“You’ve ruined everything, Aurora.” His voice is ice, cutting through me with every word. He turns slowly, and I almost wish he’d kept his back turned. The disappointment in his eyes hurts worse than anger would.
“Dom—”
“Don’t.” He holds up a hand. “Just... don’t. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The position you’ve put this family in?”
I sink onto my bed, legs suddenly weak. “I never meant?—”
“To what? To betray my trust? To risk everything we’ve built?” He runs a hand through his hair, a rare show of agitation. “Luciano was family. He was my brother in everything but blood, and you?—”
“I love him,” I whisper.
The words stop him mid-stride. For a moment, raw pain flashes across his features before the mask slides back into place.
“Love?” He laughs, the sound harsh. “You think that matters? That it justifies this level of betrayal?”
“It wasn’t betrayal.” I stand, finding strength in defending Luciano. “We didn’t plan this. It just... happened.”
“Things don’t just happen in our world.” He moves closer, his presence suffocating. “Every action has consequences. Every choice ripples outward.”
“Then let me face those consequences.” I lift my chin. “But don’t punish Luciano for loving me.”
“Loving you?” His eyes narrow. “Or using you?”
“He wouldn’t?—“
“No?” Dominic pulls out his phone, showing me a photo that makes my blood run cold. It’s a surveillance shot of Luciano meeting with a known Rossi lieutenant in a darkened warehouse. Money changes hands, documents clearly visible. The date stamp shows it was taken just last week, during the height of our family’s conflict with the Rossis.
“What is this?”
“That’s not all.” He swipes to another photo—one that makes my stomach lurch. It’s us outside the club, my body alive with the moment, Luciano’s arm around my hip as we had argued. From this angle, it looks like he’s about to kiss me, the intimacy of the moment captured in a snapshot that twists my gut with equal parts desire and dread.
“Someone’s been watching. Playing us—can’t you see?” I grab his arm, desperate to make him understand. “These photos, the timing... it’s all too perfect.”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” He pockets the phone, his voice hard. “Seems your precious Luciano has been keeping secrets. The same day three of our men disappeared, he’s making deals with our enemies.”
My mind races. “There has to be an explanation.”
“There always is.” He moves toward the door, but I grab his arm.
“Wait—how did you even find us?” The question that’s been nagging at me finally bursts out. “The safe house was secure. No one knew?—”
His phone buzzes, cutting me off. His face darkens as he reads the message. “An anonymous tip. Pictures of you two, sent directly to my phone, along with your location.” His jaw clenches. “Signed with a simple ‘A.’”
I feel the blood drain from my face. Alessandro. He’d been watching us, playing us all along.
“Dom—”
“You’re confined to the house until further notice. Guards will be posted at your door.” He pauses at the threshold. “And Aurora? If Alessandro’s really behind this, nowhere is safe. Remember that.”
But he’s already gone, leaving me alone with all of my questions.
I wait until the house settles into night’s silence before making my move. The sympathetic maid slips me Luciano’s hospital information with my dinner tray, her eyes full of pity.
Getting past the guards is easier than expected—years of sneaking out have taught me every weakness in the mansion’s security. The night air bites at my skin as I slip through the gates, my heart pounding with every step.
The hospital corridors are eerily quiet at this hour. I follow the signs to ICU, my pulse thundering in my ears. Room 312. The door feels heavy as I push it open.
The ICU wing feels wrong somehow—too quiet, too still. A shadow moves at the edge of my vision, but when I turn, there’s nothing there. The hair on the back of my neck rises as I approach Luciano’s room. Something about the half-open door sends a warning shiver down my spine, but I push forward anyway. I’ve come too far to turn back now.
He looks so small, so fragile, lying there with machines breathing for him. This isn’t the Luciano I know. This is a man I could lose.
“Oh God.” The words escape in a broken whisper as I move to his bedside. Tubes and wires connect him to softly beeping machines, his usual strength replaced by stark vulnerability.
I take his hand, careful of the IV line. His skin is warm—proof he’s alive, fighting. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, pressing his knuckles to my lips. “This is all my fault.”
“Now, now, piccola . Self-blame doesn’t suit you.” Alessandro’s voice slithers through the darkness like a serpent’s hiss. My body recognizes the threat before my mind does—muscles tensing, pulse racing, every instinct screaming at me to run. But I won’t leave Luciano. Not like this. Not with him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says softly, moving closer. “It’s not safe.”
“Neither should you.” I grip Luciano’s hand tighter. “What do you want?”
“To help, of course.” He circles the bed like a predator. “My brother needs protection while he’s... indisposed.”
“He has protection.”
Alessandro’s laugh is silk over steel. “From Dom? The man who put him here?” He stops beside me, too close. “No, what he needs is family. Real family.”
“You’re not his family.” I stand my ground despite my racing heart. “You lost that right when you disappeared.”
“Did I?” His hand shoots out, gripping my chin. “Or did I just see the truth about our dear Luciano before anyone else?”
“Let go of me.”
“Make me.” His thumb traces my lower lip. “You know, you look so much like her sometimes. Like Maria.”
Ice slides down my spine. “Don’t.”
“Why not? Afraid to hear the truth?” His grip tightens. “About how my brother’s obsession with protecting you mirrors exactly how he failed to protect her?”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” He pulls me closer, his cologne suffocating. “Ask him about the night she died. Ask him why he wasn’t there to save her.”
“Stop it.”
“Ask him about the choices he made.” His lips brush my ear. “About how history has a way of repeating itself.”
I try to pull away, but his grip is iron. “Let me go, or I’ll scream.”
“No.” His smile turns cruel. “You won’t.”
The needle prick in my neck is so slight I almost miss it. The world starts to spin, colors bleeding together.
“Shh,” Alessandro whispers as my knees buckle. “Let’s see how far you’ll go for your precious Luciano.”
The last thing I see is the hospital fading in the rearview mirror as darkness claims me. The last thing I hear is Alessandro saying, “Some stories are worth repeating, wouldn’t you agree?”