Chapter 9
nine
KITANIA
Flinching, I made my way around the spot where I’d shot Vincent. It wasn’t an intentional detour; it never was. But the muscles in my body remembered tensing as I instinctively avoided that section of the floor.
I may not have the same physical wounds my mates were healing from, but I hadn’t gotten out unscathed. My scars were invisible, lurking beneath the surface, flaring up whenever I let my guard down.
The memory of that night lurked everywhere, but it was strongest there, in that spot. I avoided it like the plague.
Tommy sat on the couch, watching, his eyes following my path, probably taking in my pinched expression. I couldn’t help feeling sheepish. The floor had been cleaned. In fact, the entire penthouse had been scrubbed from floor to ceiling, leaving no physical evidence of the firefight that had taken place. The bullets embedded in the drywall had even been removed, the holes patched, the paint touched up. It was like it had never happened, and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to walk down the hallway without leaving a wide berth around that area.
I padded into the living room, tucking my long hair behind my ear. He patted the spot beside him on the couch, and I settled next to him, smiling when he pulled me into his arms.
“Hey, Butterfly,” he murmured as I snuggled up against his uninjured side, breathing in the subtle blend of lime, wild mint, and coconut rum that made up his scent. It was so fresh. So soothing.
“Hi, yourself.” My fingers toyed with his shirt. “Whatchya reading?” I reached for the book he’d set on the coffee table, noting his bookmark was toward the front.
“Just some mystery novel Gio recommended.” Tommy’s voice held that playful lilt I loved. “Not my usual genre, but it’s something to pass the time while I’m on mandatory bed rest.”
“I’m pretty sure this isn’t bed rest.” I gestured to the couch.
A dimple appeared in his cheek as he grinned. “Don’t rat me out to D. He’s already on my ass about moving around too much.”
“Where is he?”
“D and Gio had a meeting with Papa E, but Marco is floating around here somewhere.”
I snorted. “Papa E?”
“It’s what I call Emilio. I gave each of our dad’s a nickname when I was a kid and have used ‘em ever since.”
I could just picture a mischievous little Tommy as a child, getting into trouble, then charming his way right back out of it. “Well, your secret’s safe with me.” I shifted, careful not to jostle him. His wound was healing well, but I knew it still pained him if he moved the wrong way or it was bumped by accident.
“Knew I could count on you.” His hand traced up and down my spine, and he placed gentle kisses into my hair every once in a while. The moment was comfortable and lazy and peaceful.
On the floor nearby, Beretta lay sprawled on his side, his chest rising and falling in deep, contented sleep. One paw twitched occasionally, like he was chasing something in his dreams. The Doberman had taken to following me around the penthouse when the brothers were occupied, as if he’d appointed himself my personal bodyguard. Right now, though, he was off duty.
Tommy’s fingers found their way into my hair, gently working through the strands. There was a casual intimacy to it. These little touches made the Omega part of me so happy. So content.
“Want me to read to you?” I offered, reaching for his book.
“Mm, I’d like that.” His lips brushed against my temple. “I love listening to your voice.”
I flushed, pleased by the praise. Flipping to where his bookmark was placed, I started reading aloud. The story was about a detective investigating a series of art thefts. I lost myself in the rhythm of the words, in the simple pleasure of being tucked against my Alpha’s warm body as his fingers continued their gentle exploration.
Time slipped away from us as we lost ourselves in a different world. I was halfway through our fifth chapter when the sound of a key in the lock of the front door signaled someone’s arrival. Beretta’s head lifted, ears perked, but he relaxed immediately, recognizing the familiar sounds of the others.
Dimitri entered first, with Gio and Marco following closely behind. All three wore expressions that made my stomach knot. Something was up.
Dimitri beelined for where I was tucked against Tommy on the couch, leaning down to kiss my forehead before taking a seat on the edge of the cushion. There was barely enough room for him, but he made it work so he could stay close.
D’s hand landed on my leg, giving me more of that contact I craved. “I don’t want to interrupt, but the guys and I were talking, and we wanted to have a family meeting.”
My body tensed instinctively, my fingers tightening around the edges of the book. The last time we’d had a “family meeting,” it had been to discuss their plans on how to take out the Valentinos. My anxiety spiked. Had something happened? Was Rocco back, ready to finish the fight?
Tommy’s hand moved to my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I sat up, then helped him do the same, so we were more prepared for the conversation.
“What’s going on?” he asked, that playful tone replaced with something more serious.
Dimitri exchanged a glance with Marco and Gio as they joined us in the living room, each taking a seat. Then his gaze found mine again, and there was a softness that set me at ease. Whatever it was couldn’t be that bad, could it?
“We’ve been talking,” D said, gesturing to include his brothers. “And we think it might be good for us to consider moving to a new place. Somewhere without... painful memories.”
Marco’s gaze flicked briefly to the spot I’d been avoiding earlier, and I knew exactly what they meant. Somewhere I wouldn’t have to tip-toe around the ghost of Vincent. Somewhere we could all start fresh.
Nevertheless, I blinked, surprised at the suggestion. Part of me—the part that was still haunted by the shadows, still dealing with PTSD in the aftermath—wanted to jump at the chance. But another part, a part that was stronger than I expected, rebelled at the idea.
“No.” The firmness in my reply caught even me off guard. “This is our home. I won’t let them take that from us, too.”
The brothers exchanged glances, clearly not expecting such a vehement refusal. I set the book aside and stood, moving toward the hallway, toward that spot I’d been avoiding. I didn’t step on it—I wasn’t ready for that—but I hovered at its edge.
“I’m tired of losing what’s important to me. This place is where we started our lives together. Where you saved me. Where I fell in love with you.” I turned, facing all of them. “I appreciate the thought, but I don’t want to leave. It feels too much like running. Too much like a surrender. They don’t get to take this from me.”
“You’re right, Angel,” Marco relented. “We don’t have to leave.”
Gio ran a hand down his face. “I hear you, Dolcezza, and I understand where you’re coming from. But I can’t stand to see you walking on eggshells around here either. Are you sure you don’t want to find a new place? We could make it just as special.”
He was right, of course. The penthouse was just four walls. What made it a home was them— us ; together. And yet, I didn’t want to leave. It felt too much like failure. Like losing the power I’d worked so hard to gain.
“What if we renovated instead?” I suggested, the idea forming as I spoke. “We could change the flooring, maybe even alter the layout.” The idea formed as I spoke. “I’d love to open up the sight lines to the kitchen. Maybe change the colors of the walls. A few cozy rugs, plush furniture…” I gestured with my hands, as if I could wave them and magically bring the vision in my head to life. “We could make it ours .”
Silence followed. I watched their faces, trying to gauge their reactions. Had I overstepped? Was I being na?ve? Maybe it would cost too much money. Maybe they didn’t want the hassle of a renovation, of living in a construction zone for however long it took to make the changes.
Then Marco’s lips curved into a smile. “I like it,” he said, running a hand through his messy, light brown hair. “I’ve always thought it was a little dark in here. Maybe we could brighten it up.”
“A project would give all of us something positive to focus on,” Giovanni agreed, his eyes warming.
Dimitri nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “It could work.”
Tommy’s voice came from behind me, filled with that infectious enthusiasm I adored. “Hell yeah, it could. Let’s reclaim this place.”
And just like that, the tension in the room dissolved, replaced by excitement.
It hit me that I'd never had a home of my own before. Not a real one. I barely remember my first house, and all the foster homes that followed had been temporary shelters at best. Then there was my OMA dorm room, which was only a stepping stone on the way to finding a pack. After that, it had been nothing but cages and that awful basement at the Valentino’s compound.
I shivered, pushing those memories away.
This penthouse was the first place that had ever felt like it could be mine. Was it posh and beautiful? Sure, but that had nothing to do with it. It was the people who lived here. My people.
My heart raced as possibilities unfolded in my mind.
“What if we renovated the kitchen? Opened it up to the dining and living room and made it one big space for entertaining?” The words tumbled out faster than I could process them, my voice rising with each new idea. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful, but it’s designed for show, not for actually cooking and baking in. We could reconfigure it to be more functional.”
I noted their surprised expressions. I’d never been this animated before, this confident in expressing what I wanted. Part of me wanted to shrink back, to apologize for taking up space with my desires. But the encouraging smiles on their faces kept me going.
“The master bathroom,” I continued. “It’s gorgeous, but the shower is too small to fit all of us. Maybe we could expand it? Make it one of those fancy walk-in ones that has multiple shower heads?”
“We should reinforce the security system too,” Dimitri added, his practical nature showing through even as his eyes warmed with approval at my enthusiasm. “Update the cameras, install bulletproof glass in the windows. If this is going to be our sanctuary, it needs to be impenetrable.”
I nodded eagerly. Of course, Dimitri would think of protection first. It was so perfectly him.
Tommy hummed, his expression thoughtful. “The library could use an overhaul, too. Those built-ins were designed more for display than actual book storage. We could create a real reading nook—comfortable seating, good lighting.” He glanced at me with a knowing smile. “You know how many books we’ve been devouring lately… We could use a proper space to cuddle up together.”
My chest tightened at his suggestion. Tommy knew how much I loved to read and shared the same passion for books. That it was something we could do together made it that much more meaningful.
“And the entertainment system is tragically outdated,” Marco chimed in, his eyes sparkling, mind plotting. “We need surround sound, a screen that takes up the whole goddamn wall, gaming consoles—the works.” He winked at me. “For movie nights. You’ve got years of films to catch up on.”
The thought of curling up with them at night, cuddling close, surrounded by soft blankets, our hands brushing as we reached for the popcorn at the same time, had warmth blooming in my belly. Such normal, domestic things, and yet, those were the moments I wanted to experience over and over.
“The kitchen definitely needs work,” Gio agreed with my earlier sentiment. “I agree. We should knock down that wall. Open it up. And we’ll need more counter space.” His eyes met mine. “We know how much you like to bake. We should make sure you have everything you need for that, including a top of the line oven.”
I blinked back unexpected tears. He’d remembered that tiny confession, tucked it away as important enough to recall now.
“You guys really want to do this?” I asked, looking around at each of them. “You’re not just humoring me?”
“Butterfly,” Tommy murmured, “this is the best idea I’ve heard in ages.”
“It’s practical,” Dimitri added with a nod. “Renovating is more efficient than moving.”
“It’s also much more fun. We’ll get exactly what we want. Infuse this place with our style.” Marco was already pulling out his phone. “And I know the perfect contractor—someone trustworthy, someone in the family . Our cousin Joey owns a home renovation and repair company. He does great work.” His fingers were already flying, already texting.
“Let’s start making plans.” Gio moved to the couch, squeezing in on my other side while D moved to sit on the coffee table, facing us, and Marco took a spot on the floor, completing our circle.
I settled into the couch, enjoying the warmth of their bodies on either side of me. Giovanni smelled like aged earth, musk, and man, a perfect complement to Tommy’s fresh scent. I pulled out my phone and opened a browser.
“I don’t even know where to start,” I admitted.
“Design websites,” Gio suggested, leaning closer to see my screen. His arm went across the back of the couch, resting behind me.
Tommy peered over from my other side, his breath warm against my ear. “Look up kitchen renovations first.”
I typed in the search terms, and soon we were scrolling through images of sleek, modern kitchens. Giddy, I lost myself to the inspiration, creating a folder on my phone and saving everything I loved. Giovanni’s fingers played with my hair while Tommy pointed at different features on the screen. Marco was already on the phone with his cousin, and Dimitri was watching all three of us, a contented smile lightly curling the edges of his lips. The simple intimacy of it—all of us huddled together, discussing something as mundane as cabinet styles—felt like healing in its purest form.
Dimitri and Marco exchanged a glance. I caught it from the corner of my eye—the deepening curve of Dimitri’s lips, the approving nod from Marco. They were pleased to see me engaged, focused on something positive rather than drowning in the trauma.
“What do you think about this style?” I tilted the phone so they could see too.
“I like it.” Marco grinned.
I bit my lip. “It’s a little expensive…”
“Money’s not an issue,” Dimitri replied, his tone making it clear this wasn’t up for debate.
I started to protest, to tell them that while I wanted to renovate, it didn’t need to be extravagant, but Giovanni’s finger pressed gently against my lips.
“Let us do this for you,” he said softly. “For all of us.”
The tenderness in his eyes silenced my objections. He was right. This renovation was for all of us. This would be the kitchen where we gathered for meals, where I created new confections, where, someday, I’d warm bottles and feed our children.
“So,” Tommy’s voice broke through my thoughts, his finger swiping to bring up a new image on my phone. “Open concept or defined spaces?”
And just like that, we were planning our future—one room at a time. The past fell away, yielding to the promise of everything to come. My mind filled with visions of what could be—laughter around a new dining table, baking my Alphas’ favorite treats in a remodeled kitchen, movie nights in a revamped living room, shared showers full of steam—in every way.
The vision was beautiful. Something I’d rarely let myself dream of, and yet now that I had, I wanted it with such fierce desperation, it scared me—because for the first time, I wasn’t dreaming of escape. I was dreaming of life…
I was dreaming of home .
I could already see us wrapped around each other in every room, our scents filling every corner, their bite marks on my neck. Every change would reflect us as a pack, from the color on the walls to the hardwood floors to the decorations that would make the space distinctly ours.
My mates chatted happily around me while I smiled down at my phone. My fingers hovered over an image of a particularly beautiful kitchen design when my cell suddenly vibrated with an incoming text.
And just when I’d found a sliver of happiness, the words on the screen made my blood run cold, stealing it away again.
Think you’re safe up there in your ivory tower? Remember, I know all the ways in. Sleep tight, micia.