Chapter 37
LIA
“Thank you,” I murmur as the nurse wraps the last layer of bandage around my feet.
She nods, offering a faint smile as she smooths the blanket over my legs.
“Get some rest,” she says quietly before turning and slipping through the heavy oak doors.
The room is quiet after she leaves.
I let out a slow breath and sink back into the pillows.
Dante moved me here a few nights ago. I don’t know exactly where we are, but I know it is remote, quiet, and better than the cell I woke up in after my fake kidnap.
The room I’m in feels like something straight out of a novel.
The walls are cream-colored stone, and the window stretches from the floor to the ceiling, framing the mountains in the distance like a painting.
Rain has started to mist against the glass, soft and rhythmic.
A fire crackles in the fireplace across the room.
The bed beneath me is softer than anything I’ve slept in for weeks, and the air smells of rosemary and lavender.
It should be peaceful. And in some ways, it is.
I’ve been using this forced solitude to rest and to sleep properly, to breathe without fear snapping at the back of my neck. I’ve read, journaled, cried. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and just stare at the ceiling, letting the silence hold me.
But I can’t stop thinking about Francesco.
Where he is. What he’s planning. Whether he’s safe.
The last time I saw him, I was walking down a path I thought would lead to my grave.
He still thinks I’m dead or gone forever. I just wish I could hold him firmly in my arms.
I blink back the tears and grab the romance novel on my bedside table. I flip the pages absentmindedly, ignoring the small sting in my hands.
The burns on my palms are healing. The skin is red and raw, but it’s no longer blistering.
My knees are scabbed over and tight when I move, but the pain has dulled as well.
The burns on the soles of my feet… those are worse.
They throb with every step I take. Walking is still a punishment.
A reminder of what I endured. Of what I chose.
The door clicks open again, and my breath hitches when I see who it is.
Marco steps inside, a bag in his hand. His damp hair curls slightly from the rain, and there’s a tiredness in his shoulders that I haven’t seen before. He doesn’t smile, but his eyes soften when they meet mine.
He takes in the room, his gaze flicking over the stone walls, the blankets, and the fire. Then to me. They trail over my face, then down to the bandages peeking out from under the hem of my blanket.
Something crosses his eyes.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me,” he says in a low voice.
I nod once. “Come in.”
He sets the bag down on the bedside table and sits in the armchair near the bed. His hands are loosely clasped on his lap. I can tell something’s weighing on him, but he’s not sure where to begin.
“I brought you some food.” He gestures toward the bag. “And some other things I thought you might need.”
I smile as I grab the bag and peer into it. A bowl of soup. A bundle of folded fabric. I pull it out and unfold it slowly.
Tiny baby clothes. A white onesie. Little socks. A hat with bear ears.
Emotion swells in my chest.
“They’re beautiful,” I whisper.
“I didn’t know what size to get. Or what you’d like. I just thought—”
“Thank you,” I interrupt with a smile. “This means a lot.”
He nods, rubbing his hands together. His gaze drops back to my bandaged feet.
His expression shifts to something bitter, something broken.
“I should never have let you go through that ritual.”
“Marco…”
“I knew. I knew you didn’t want me. I knew it wasn’t me you would choose. But I wanted to believe so badly that I had a chance at your heart. I wanted to win this… silent battle I’ve been in with my brother for years,” he chuckles bitterly to himself.
“I wasn’t willing to let down my pride.” His voice cracks. “And I let you walk on fire because of that.”
My throat tightens. I reach out slowly to curl my fingers around his.
“It was my choice to perform the rite,” I say gently. “You didn’t make me do it. I chose it. I needed to… for myself. To prove that I was strong enough to face them.”
His eyes meet mine, and my heart clenches at the wetness in them.
“You should hate me,” he says with a broken smile.
“I don’t.”
“You should.”
We stare at each other for a moment, silence stretching between us.
“I understand…” I trail off. “Why you’re the way you are. Francesco says you’re all broken,” I chuckle bitterly.
His eyes flash with emotion at the mention of his brother. “He should hate me too.”
“Well, he doesn’t,” I tell him. “He makes excuses for you all the time.”
Marco laughs. “That doesn’t surprise me.
He’s always been like that. It was one of the reasons I envied him, how calm and calculated he could be of his feelings.
I was jealous of how he never got jealous or angry at any of us…
” He trails off, his eyes meeting mine. “Maybe that’s why, when I realized how he felt about you, I decided to use you to get to him.
It worked. I’ve never seen him so strung out over a woman. ”
Tears gather at the corners of my eyes. I glance away so he won’t see me struggle to keep them at bay.
“At first, I just wanted to provoke him, but then I got carried away. I started falling for you…”
“Marco…”
“…and I wanted you to feel the same way toward me. I wanted you to look at me the same way you looked at him. I wanted you to choose me, and when you wouldn’t… well, I became a controlling, overbearing prick.”
I chuckle despite myself. A tear slips down my face.
He reaches toward me to wipe it off. “I’m sorry, for everything.”
I nod, sniffing. “I forgave you a long time ago.”
Silence falls upon us again, then he breaks it.
“You’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever known, Lia.”
I hold onto that, let it steady me.
There’s a pause. Then I ask the question that’s been sitting in my chest like a heavy weight.
“Have you heard from him?”
Marco leans back, exhaling slowly. “That’s… partly why I came.”
My stomach knots.
“He’s doing something reckless,” Marco says. “He’s called for Antico Giudizio.”
I go still. “What is that?”
I already know it’s something dangerous.
“It is an ancient or traditional judgment process, a formal procedure used to challenge the authority of Elders or leaders within the Society,” Marco explains. “It hasn’t been performed in decades, way before we were born.”
“Oh god.” I feel sick.
“He lured three Elders to a secret location and confronted them alone. He had no backup or exit strategy. Just him and whatever evidence he’s collected. He’s risking everything.”
My heart thunders in my chest.
“Why is he—?”
“Because he believes it’s the only way,” Marco says. “To end this. To avenge you. To free us all.”
I shake my head slowly, breath catching. “It could kill him… right?”
“They’ll do everything in their power to make sure he doesn’t see that day.”
Silence falls again, heavy and thick.
“Don’t worry about Francesco’s life.” He slides his hand over mine and squeezes. “Nothing will happen to him.” He clenches his jaw. “We won’t let anything happen to him.”
I nod, believing him.
“I’ve had time to think,” Marco says after a while. “About everything. About you. Me. Him. About my suppressed emotions.”
I look at him, really look at him. The pain on his face. The shame. The guilt.
“I’ve been selfish, Lia. I made you feel like you didn’t have a choice, like you owed me something. That wasn’t love. That was control. That was me trying to rewrite something that was never meant to be mine. I’m sorry for making my fears and insecurity your burden.”
I blink away tears. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”
“But I did,” he says. “I’ve been scared of being second my whole life. Scared of being passed over. I let that fear drive me.”
“Did you go to therapy or something?” I joke to lighten the mood.
I’m happy he laughs. “I had a talk with my father, if that counts.”
“It does.” I smile at him.
I know the Romanos have years of bottled emotions and secrets between them. I’m glad to see they’re beginning to address some of it.
“I loved you,” he says quietly. “I still do, in a way. But love is not enough reason to keep you chained to a life of misery forever. In fact, that’s not love.”
I shake my head slowly.
He smiles faintly. “You were never meant for me. You were always his.”
Another tear slips down my cheek, and he brushes it away with the back of his knuckle.
“You don’t need my permission, but… you have my blessing. To love him. To fight for him. To wait for him. To be with him.”
I don’t realize I’m leaning toward him until his arms wrap around me. I close my eyes and let myself fall into the warmth of his embrace.
“Why does this sound like a final goodbye?” I sniff, burying my face in his shoulders.
He pulls away from me with a smile. “I definitely need some time away from everything to work on myself and heal before thinking about loving someone else. But some things still need to be settled.”
A grim feeling settles over my chest again. “Right.”
The Reckoning.
But when Marco presses a kiss on my forehead, I feel better. Momentarily.
“Get enough rest,” he says, rising to his feet.
I manage a smile. “I will.”
He walks to the door, pausing once to look back.
“I hope the baby has your eyes.”
I chuckle, and then he’s gone.
And for the first time in a long time, my heart feels a little lighter. Not because everything’s okay, but because I know where my heart is.
And I feel a little more certain about the future.