Chapter 30
Brax
Amonth has passed. Life inside Valentina's condo is nothing like what I imagined the aftermath of blowing up the Underworld would be.
I expected celebration, chaos, maybe some twisted version of liberation where people walked around in disbelief, realizing the board of monsters dictating their lives had turned to smoke.
Instead, the Underworld membership is in a suspended rhythm, quiet and watchful.
Barely anyone has spoken, with most following Kirill's order of silence.
And those who haven't obeyed were considered threats and taken out by the O'Malleys.
Valentina’s old driver, Vito, and her assistant, Cassian, were the first to speak out. Those were the only ones I personally handled. The rest I’ve left to the clan.
Sometimes, the silence is louder than the bombs that detonated every piece of infrastructure.
It's been especially hard on Valentina. She spent years planning, strategizing, and manipulating an entire corrupt infrastructure.
She constantly tried to survive so she wouldn't end up trapped in some sick ritual with no control over her fate.
Now that the enemy is gone, she doesn't know what to do with her time.
Her movements are starting to lose the sharpness she carried when we were drowning in danger.
They are being replaced with something adrift, but still something she can't identify.
She doesn't say it out loud, but I see it in every slow breath she releases and every long stare she gives the windows as if waiting for orders she no longer wants but doesn't know how to live without.
I lace my shoelaces, and she enters the bedroom.
She smooths her hand along her thigh, distracted, still shoeless.
"We're going to be late," I point out.
Her expression stays neutral. "We aren't going anymore."
I arch my eyebrows. "What are you talking about? You miss those kids more than air. Zara said Willow started focusing her eyes during tummy time, and you acted as if someone told you Santa Claus was real. You're dying to get over there."
"That was before." She grabs her gold earrings off the dresser and fumbles with the clasp. She mutters under her breath and tries again.
Disappointment fills me. We promised we'd see the twins today.
After weeks spent trapped in Kirill's penthouse with them, seeing them once a week doesn't cut it.
I'm not ashamed to admit I miss the tiny sounds they make, their plump little fists reaching for whoever walks by, and the way Willow scrunches her nose when she's concentrating like she's solving taxes and not trying to hold her head up.
But Valentina misses them in a way that guts her. Zara's babies became an anchor for her when everything else in the world was smoke and mirrors. She needs them today.
So whatever stopped her from walking out this door is something I need to solve, fast.
I step closer. "Before what?"
She hesitates one heartbeat too long. "Before Zara called."
I tense. "What did she say?"
"We can't go." She steps out of the bedroom.
I follow her. "What's going on, Minx?"
The muscles in her shoulders tighten, then sink as she releases a slow exhale that carries more defeat than she ever willingly shows me. She repeats, "We're not going. Just leave it at that."
I move closer. "Not happening."
She picks up her purse, sets it back down, presses her palm to the counter, and stares at nothing.
I spin her into me. "What did Zara say?"
A flicker of pain crosses Valentina's face. "Her father showed up."
My chest tightens. "Luca?"
She nods.
"So why can't we go?" I ask.
Valentina's face hardens. "You know why."
"It's time he got over his issues. It's all bull shit anyway," I declare.
"He's not going to," Valentina quietly asserts.
"So Zara uninvited us?" I seethe.
"Pretty sure you can still go."
I narrow my eyes.
She argues, "It's not Zara's fault. She shouldn't have to worry about managing the situation. She should focus on her babies."
"That doesn't mean we cancel," I counter.
"I'm not going over there and making the situation worse."
"You wouldn't."
"I would," she insists.
"It'll get sorted out," I maintain.
"It won't." She turns, and for a heartbeat, the old, painful wound splits open. It's the one she normally hides. Yet today, she can't seem to.
"Valentina—"
"It's fine," she adds sharply, as if the word can force the truth back into its box. "We're not going."
"It isn't fine. And you know it."
A flicker of frustration crosses her expression. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."
I step in front of her, blocking her path to retreat. "That's not how this works."
Her jaw tightens. "You can't force me to go."
"I'm not trying to force anything. I'm trying to understand why you're letting someone else make decisions for you again," I point out.
Her eyes flash with anger. "This isn't someone else making decisions. It's me refusing to walk into a house where I'll watch Zara tense, the twins sense it, and Luca get so angry he might have a heart attack."
I remind her, "You spent years surviving people who wanted to own you. Don't hand your power to someone who didn't bother to stay."
Her eyes dart away. "I'm not."
I reach for my keys.
She notices. "Where are you going?"
"Out."
Her voice sharpens. "That's not an answer!"
"I'll be back."
She hurls, "You're being shady. I don't like shady."
"You love shady," I say, but my tone doesn't carry humor. I can't soften this. Not when she's unraveling right in front of me, and the root of it is a man who has lived in the shadows of her life for far too long.
Her brows pull together. "Don't go over there, Brax."
"I'm not. I'll be back later," I lie.
"This isn't your problem," she declares.
I sarcastically laugh. "That became a false statement the day you decided you wanted to marry me."
He freezes. Her lip trembles.
"What?" I question.
"There it is. I've been waiting for it to come out," she says.
The hairs on my neck rise. "For what to come out?"
She turns her head, scrunching her face.
I step closer, lowering my voice. "What's going on now?"
She tries to reel in her emotions, but she can't. She's two seconds from falling apart and blurts out, "You don't have to stay married to me anymore."
Every cell in my body goes still. I bite out, "You want to run that by me again?"
A few tense moments pass.
"I'm waiting," I state, crossing my arms.
Her voice cracks. "You're allowed to go. No one is threatening to parade me into a ceremony and turn me into some breeding machine. You're not trapped in a marriage designed to save my life. You don't have to carry me anymore."
My chest tightens with something violent. "You think I'm here because I have to be?"
She doesn't look at me. "Let's not sugarcoat it. I forced you to marry me. Now you can be free."
That sentence cuts deeper than anything she could've thrown at me. She says it calmly, like she believes and accepts it, which makes my blood run hotter. I bark, "You really think that's what I want?"
"Isn't it?" she challenges.
"Is that what you want?" I retort.
Her breath shakes. "It's not about what I want."
"Last time I looked, there were two of us in this marriage," I argue.
She sputters, "You deserve someone uncomplicated."
I scoff, "Uncomplicated? I would last ten minutes with uncomplicated before I chewed my arm off."
She doesn't laugh. Doesn't smile. Her gaze stays glued to the floor like she's bracing for impact. She murmurs, "You're allowed to want a clean start."
My breath leaves in a slow, controlled exhale. I order, "Valentina. Look at me."
She resists at first, but eventually her chin lifts, and her raw, guarded, too-familiar-with-abandonment eyes lock on mine.
I inform her, "I didn't marry you because the Underworld forced me to. I chose to marry you. And I stay because the thought of losing you makes the ground open up from under me. I wanted you when bullets were flying, and I want you even more now that the world isn't trying to kill us."
She blinks hard, but a tear falls. She chokes out, "You don't have to say that."
I take her face in my hands. In a firm tone, I demand, "Listen to me closely, Minx. I'm not saying it because I have to. I choose you. Not as a shield. Not as a duty. Not as a consequence of war. I choose you because you're mine and I love you."
Her breath catches, tears gathering again. She blinks rapidly, trying to force them away.
I continue, "And since we're clearing the air, let's tackle something else."
Her brows pull tight. She sniffles, "What?"
"It's time we make our own babies," I declare, my pulse ticking up.
Her entire body goes still.
I don't look away and add, "I want a life with you. A real one. One that isn't built on trauma, strategy, or survival. One that's just ours...well, and our babies." I wiggle my eyebrows, grinning.
A tearful laugh escapes her. She shakes her head slightly, questioning, "You think we're ready for babies?"
I grin wider. "Nope. I'm sure we'll fuck up a lot of shit. But is any parent ever ready?"
She bites her lip and shrugs her shoulders. "I-I don't know."
"I'm sure they aren't. But we're smart. We'll figure it out," I assure her, then pull her against me, my arms locking around her. I state, "You aren't some burden I've been dragging across the finish line."
She softly cries against my chest.
I pull back and wipe the tears from her cheek. "Okay. You can tell me."
"Tell you what?" she asks, with confusion all over her expression.
My heart thuds against my chest. I answer, "That you love me."
Time seems to stand still.
My gut flips.
Maybe she doesn't, and I've been wrong?
She finally declares, "I love you."
"Jesus Christ, you scared me for a minute," I tease, but it's the truth.
She laughs.
I press a kiss to the crown of her head, then tilt her chin up again. "We survived hell. We ended an empire. Now we get to build something else. Something that has our name on it and is our choice."