Chapter 34 Sophia
Sophia
“Walk with me,” the Don said.
I turned, caught off guard. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut cleanly through the rest of the room. The couple I’d been speaking with looked politely away, already moving on to their next conversation.
He didn’t wait to see if I’d follow. Just started walking.
I hesitated for half a breath, then followed.
The crowd thinned as we moved. People shifted subtly to give him space—to give us space.
The hum of the room fell behind us. Candles flickered low along the edge of the wall, casting short shadows across the gilded trim. I matched his pace, uncertain where we were going or what he wanted to say to me.
When he finally stopped, it wasn’t far—just at the curve of a hallway tucked behind one of the draped pillars. Still visible to everyone, but out of earshot.
His expression was unreadable.
“You’re doing well tonight,” he said.
I nodded, unsure if that was a compliment or a test. “Thank you.”
“You look like you belong here.”
I smiled weakly. “Trying.”
He studied me. Not unkind, but weighted. Evaluating.
“It’s taken me some time to accept, but I’ll admit—you are good for my son.”
I didn’t know what to say. I looked down at the edge of the pillar by our feet, then back up.
“You love him?” he asked.
I blinked. “I—yes.”
He looked like he had more to say, but after a few heartbeats, he only nodded and turned down the hall, away from the gala.
“Where are you going?” I asked before I could think.
He stopped, gave me an amused yet irritated look. “I say I accept you, and a few seconds later the nagging starts.”
“Sorry.”
“I just wanted a few minutes alone. Rest my legs.”
“I’m surprised. I thought wanting alone time was like… a weakness. Not that I think you’re weak—that’s not what I meant to say. I mean—I want alone time too.”
He let that hang in the air, then looked past me into the sea of people and let out a slow breath.
“Needing time alone is not a sign of weakness. Needing a crowd is.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment. But I didn’t want him to walk away—not yet. This felt like a crack in his armor, a chance to get closer with him.
“I’ve been waiting for you to make your next move in chess,” I said, almost offhand. “It’s been your turn for a while now.”
He blinked, furrowing his brow. “No, no—it’s your turn.”
“Your king is in check. But if you’re offering to let me move twice in a row, I’ll take it.”
He laughed once. “Good. You’re learning. But next time, keep your advantages over others to yourself.”
The conversation trailed off to nowhere again, but he didn’t turn to leave. He stood next to me, and I felt his acceptance—just in the way he stood. His gaze drifted again to the ballroom, voice low but easier now.
“My wife loved nights like this.”
I looked at him, surprised.
“She’d smile, sip her wine, play the part. You know… what you’ve been doing.” He gave a faint shake of his head. “Sometimes I’d watch her from the balcony up there.”
Before I could look up, he took a half step back, eyes wide, staring up into nowhere. His brow twitched, mouth working like he was charging up to speak—but nothing came out.
“Are you alright?” I reached for him, in case he lost his balance.
He shoved me back—harder than I expected—and I hit the floor.
By the time I looked up, he was already moving. Half-running, half-hobbling. Unsteady but fast.
He tripped, collided with a servant carrying drinks.
The tray crashed to the floor with a loud metal clang, champagne fanning out in a glistening arc. Glass shattered.
Guests froze. Heads turned.
Gabriel was already pushing off the wall in the distance. He must have been watching us talk, but now he was reaching for his father, as confused and concerned as I was.
The Don scrambled to his feet like something younger, driven by wild need. His eyes lifted.
Then I saw what he saw.
A man stood there, on the balcony, arms raised, with a gun in his hands.
I didn’t even have time to scream.
The Don wrapped his arms around Gabriel, threw himself backwards while pivoting on his heel.
A gunshot cracked through the air.
They went down together.
Another shot rang out.
People screamed.
I covered my ears, heart in my throat, but I didn’t look away.
Gabriel hit the floor, the Don sprawled over him. People ran in every direction, stepping over, around, and on them as they lay motionless.
I pushed through the panicked horde, legs numb, breath gone. Just moving.
Another shot rang out.
I hunched down reflexively, then looked up.
The gunman was taking aim again. His face held no emotion as he patiently aimed—
and another bullet was fired.
This time from beside me.
It was Damien.
The assassin staggered, clutching his stomach, and dropped the gun over the railing before stumbling away.
I dropped to my knees.
My hands shook in front of me. I wiped them on my dress, then looked at them. But they were clean. No blood. Nothing.
I kept staring at them, unable to do anything else.
They didn’t feel clean.
Where was Caroline? She was right here, wasn’t she?
I felt myself being held up by strong hands and lashed out.
“Let go of me!”
I kicked, punched at the man taking me. Then froze. It was Damien. His eyes were wide with horror. His grip weakened, and he let go, taking a cautious step forward.
Gabriel and his father lay motionless in a growing pool of blood.
I ran to Gabriel just as men carefully rolled the Don off him.
I fell beside him, taking his face in both hands. I could barely see his features through the blur of tears in my eyes, through the blood on him.
But he was looking back at me, his brow furrowed, like he was trying to figure out what I needed, what was wrong.
Then he jerked his head away—toward his father—just as the old man sucked in a rasping, wet breath.
“Father,” Gabriel said, cradling his head in his hand, the other lifting his shirt.
I let out an shaky whimper at the sight of two bullet holes in his chest and stomach, gushing blood with each rapid heartbeat.
“Get some fucking bandages! Get a doctor!” Gabriel yelled.
“Son,” the Don rasped, trying to lift his hand toward Gabriel’s face. He didn’t have the strength to reach it.
“You’re going to be alright.”
“No.” He whispered, then wheezed a sickening breath, eyes wide, growing paler by the second.
The Don looked me right in the eyes, and he saw my fear.
He looked at Damien beside me, then up at Gabriel. Love, regret, and pain all at once twisted his expression, filling his eyes. He opened his mouth as if desperately trying to speak—but only coughed up blood.
Another wet breath.
“Where’s the fucking doctor?” Gabriel roared.
“Boys… I’ve always—” His voice broke. “You know—”
Another wet breath.
“I…”
His mouth sagged open, his face going slack and neutral.