Chapter 7 #4
Her voice lowers. “There’s something no one tells you when you’re on the edge of this life, Magnolia. It’s not the bullets or betrayals that change you first. It’s the choices. The tiny, quiet ones. The ones you make when no one’s looking.”
I meet her eyes, and they’re no longer the elegant blue of a refined hostess. They’re the eyes of someone who’s seen too much and smiled through it anyway.
“I’ve had to make choices,” I whisper. “Already.”
“I know you have.” Her expression softens, but it doesn’t lose its weight. “And you’ll make harder ones still.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
She pauses, watching me. “If I may speak freely?”
I gesture for her to go ahead.
“There’s strength in you, and not just because of who your family is.
You ask questions even when it’s easier not to.
You calculate. But don’t let the calculating steal your instincts.
Zeik has told me about you, he may be boisterous, but he watches.
” I don’t know how to feel about that. “Don’t lose the girl who says what she means, even if it gets her in trouble.
You’re going to need her to survive this. ”
I blink, suddenly feeling like I’m being mentored by a queen in a war movie.
“Is this the part where you give me a sword and send me to battle?” I ask, trying to lift the heaviness.
Amelia cracks a smile. “Not yet. But I might offer you a martini and a burner phone.”
I snort. “I already have a burner phone.”
“Of course you do,” she says dryly, and then, more seriously, “You’re welcome here, Magnolia. Not just politically. Personally. If you ever need anything. Discretion, sanctuary, a place where no one’s watching. This house is one of the few where no favors will be owed.”
That knocks the wind out of me.
“That’s rare,” I murmur.
“It is.” She gives a small nod. “Don’t waste it.”
Leon calls from the other room. Amelia straightens, the softness smoothing into elegance again.
As we walk back toward the firelit sitting room, she links her arm through mine, not tightly, just enough to be felt.
“You’ve already made waves in this city,” she says. “Now the question is, how far are you willing to swim?”
I don’t answer right away. Because honestly? I don’t know yet.
But I have a feeling I’m about to find out.
It’s true what they say, that the heart grows fonder in absence. Sin is all I think about, dream about. He runs through my mind at a near constant pace.
Because the Caputo’s have secured Bria and I’s safety at every corner of this city, she’s coming to my side today.
Bria shows up fifteen minutes late and looking like she walked out of a fashion campaign.
Oversized sunglasses, dark jeans tucked into combat boots, and a vintage tee knotted at her waist like she didn’t even try.
She always has that effortless kind of chaos about her.
The kind that looks curated but isn't. Or maybe it is. I never can tell with Bria.
“I swear your side of the line smells different,” she says the second she steps out of the car. “Like… pine trees and trust issues.”
I laugh, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the path. “You say that like your side doesn’t reek of gunpowder and emotional repression.”
“Oh, it definitely does.” She flashes me a grin. “But at least we know how to make an entrance.”
We’re in a small, tucked-away park just outside the Rusco estate.
Technically still within safe bounds, but far enough from the house that we won’t be overheard or watched.
It's quiet here. Peaceful. The trees form a leafy canopy above us, sunlight dripping through in soft gold slants. I picked the spot for that reason. It doesn’t feel like war here. Just like something untouched.
Bria’s steps slow as she takes it all in, her eyes scanning every tree, every bird, every breeze like it could be a trap.
“You okay?” I ask, gently.
She shrugs, adjusting her sunglasses. “Just not used to being this far over. Never crossed the line unless I had to.”
“You’re safe with me,” I say.
She doesn’t respond right away. Just looks at me like she’s still trying to figure out how much of that she believes. Then she nods once and exhales. “I know.”
We settle onto the old wooden bench, and I hand her one of the iced coffees from my hand.
Bria arches a brow. “No poison?”
“Not unless you count oat milk.”
“Then I’ll risk it.”
We drink in silence for a bit, watching the leaves sway. There’s a lightness here I didn’t expect. Not quite peace, but something close enough to pretend.
“You ever think about how we got here?” I ask.
Bria glances at me. “Which part?”
“All of it,” I say. “The orphanage. Sin. Your family. My family. It’s like someone ripped open the middle of our lives and expected us to keep walking straight.”
She smirks. “Yeah. Except we didn’t walk straight. We stumbled and cursed and kicked over tables on the way.”
“You kicked over tables,” I say with a laugh.
“You did too,” she points out. “With words.”
I sip my coffee. “Okay. Fair.”
She shifts a little, pulling her knees up on the bench, curling toward me. “I missed this,” she says softly. “Just… girl time. You know? Not strategy. Not survival. I miss when we didn’t know who you were.”
“Same,” I whisper. “Even if it’s complicated.”
“Everything’s complicated now,” she says, then glances at me. “But I’d still choose this. Us.”
It’s quiet again, but not awkward. Not like before. “Do you ever talk to Sin?” She asks after a beat. Something is hidden in the question, worry for me, or him?
“I’ve texted him a few times.” I admit, looking down at my drink. “He doesn’t respond.”
She nods, “I think he’s wanting to keep safe.”
“I don’t care about safety.” I admit. “I love him.”
Bria looks out over the quiet park, eyes distant. “You and Sin…” She trails off, then leans forward, elbows on her knees, voice low. “It’s not just complicated anymore, Magnolia. It’s dangerous.”
I stiffen. “I know it’s complicated. That’s kind of the point.”
“No,” she says, turning toward me, eyes sharp now. “You don’t know. Not really. You’ve been sheltered from everything, not just at the orphanage but how our world really is. Cameron may be giving you space, but make no mistake, he’s watching. Everyone is.”
“Everyone?” I ask.
“Our families are the head of the mafia in New York, we may have two distinct sides but make no mistake, there are dozens of families who would take any slice of weakness on either side to take control. The Caputo’s for instance, they don’t have the want for control, that’s why they run negotiations between all families.
” She rolls her manicured nail in a circle.
“We may be on top now, but one wrong move and someone else will be running this city. She continues with a haunted expression. “And Sin? He’s being watched too. By everyone. Nobody trusts him right now. They think he’s slipping. ”
My heart tightens. I think of the way Sin looked in the park that night. Tired, haunted, like he hadn’t slept in days. Like the weight of the city was crushing him.
“He is slipping,” I whisper.
Bria nods. “Because of you. Because he doesn’t know how to separate his heart from the war anymore. And the second they figure out just how deep it runs between you two…”
She doesn’t have to finish. I know what happens next. “They’ll kill him,” I say, the words flat, dead.
Bria’s expression softens. “Or you. Or both of you. Mags, this isn’t just a romance. This is politics. This is bloodlines and territory and control. There are people who would rather see the city burn than let a Donati and a Rusco fall in love.”
I lean back on the bench, trying to breathe around the truth of her words. The air feels thicker now.
“But it’s us,” I say quietly. “He and I… it was real, Bria. Maybe the only real thing I’ve had my entire life.”
“I know,” she says. Her voice breaks a little, and when I glance at her, her eyes are glossy. “I know, Mags. I was there, remember? I saw how he looked at you. I saw how you softened around him. You make him better.”
“Then why are you telling me to stay away from him?”
“Because love doesn’t always save people. Sometimes it gets them killed.”
The silence between us stretches, broken only by the wind rustling through the trees and the faint sound of children laughing somewhere far away.
“I hate this,” I admit. “I hate that we have to choose between each other and survival.”
“I know,” Bria says. “But that’s what war does. It steals the good things. It makes you question everything you thought was safe.”
I blink away the burn behind my eyes. “So what? I just pretend we never happened?”
Bria swallows hard. “No. You don’t have to pretend. Just… be careful. Be smart. Meet in the shadows if you have to. Keep it quiet. Keep it safe. But don’t let anyone see.”
She reaches out, sliding her hand over mine. Her grip is firm.
“I’m not telling you to stop loving him,” she says. “I’m telling you to survive it.” She says this as if she’s realizing it for herself too. She wants Sin to be happy, but the fear behind her eyes tells me she would sleep better knowing he was far away from me.
The wind picks up again, sending leaves scattering across the path. I look at her, really look at her, and realize how much fear she’s been holding. Not just for me, but for Sin. For all of us.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say, squeezing her hand. “We have to.”
Bria doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t let go either.
And for now, that’s enough.
When I return home, Cameron is there.
He summons me to the study after dinner, his expression unreadable.
I hesitate in the doorway. Axle sits at my feet, ears twitching, sensing the shift in atmosphere.
Inside, my mother perches elegantly on the armrest of a leather chair, a glass of wine in her hand.
Something about the way they’re both waiting for me makes my stomach turn.
I take a slow breath and step inside. “What’s this about?”
Cameron leans back against the desk, arms folded. “We need to talk about your future.”
I stiffen. “My future?”
My mother gestures for me to sit. “I would have hoped you would have longer to adjust, but what comes next.” She looks at Cameron pointedly, as if she’s dreading this conversation. “needs to be discussed.”
I don’t move. I don’t like the way this is heading.
“And what exactly comes next?” I ask, crossing my arms.
Cameron’s lips press together. “You’re a Rusco, Magnolia. That means something. It’s time you take your rightful place.”
A chill runs through me. I don’t like how that sounds.
I glance at my mother. She doesn’t disagree.
“What does that mean?” I ask carefully.
She sets her glass down with a delicate clink. “You have an opportunity to secure our family's position, to strengthen alliances that will ensure your safety.”
I feel my pulse tick up. “What alliances?”
Cameron exhales, his gaze locking onto mine. “There’s a deal on the table. One that will solidify our family’s standing and protect you from the chaos that’s coming.”
Something cold curls in my stomach.
I don’t know why, but this conversation feels rehearsed. Calculated.
“What kind of deal?” I ask slowly.
Cameron tilts his head, considering me. “The kind that requires commitment.”
“Loyalty,” my mother adds.
Something in her voice makes my chest tighten.
I narrow my eyes. “I already have a job. Or are you planning on making me some kind of business partner?”
Cameron smiles, but it’s tight, forced. “In a way,” he says smoothly. “This deal isn’t about money or property, Magnolia. It’s about power. Securing what’s ours.”
The air in the room thickens.
They’re watching me. Waiting.
“What exactly am I securing?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Cameron leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“A future where we don’t have to fight for our survival.”
A sharp prickle runs down my spine. I don’t like this.
I glance between them, my pulse rising. “Why do I feel like I’m the one being traded in this deal?”
Silence.
Neither of them speaks.
And that silence tells me everything.