74 | No one touches Aurelia
The meeting room, adjacent to my father's study, is a fortress of dark wood and heavy silence, the long table stretching before me like a battlefield.
I sit at its head, my gaze hard as I survey the men around me, Chase, Aurelia's brother and Nico, my right-hand man, his scarred hands folded, ready to act; and a handful of others, loyal soldiers whose lives are bound to mine.
The air is thick with tension, the weight of my orders hanging over us but my mind is elsewhere, tangled in Aurelia, my wife.
The photo she got last night, the one of me at Ciara's funeral with that venomous text, He will never love you like he loved her, burns in my memory, a taunt that's lit a fire in me, not just anger but a feral need to protect her, to crush whoever dares to hurt her.
I lean forward, my voice low, cutting through the room like a blade.
"Show me what you've found," I say, my eyes locking on Nico. "Everything about the attack, the one where I got shot, where they tried to take her from me."
Nico nods, his face grim as he pulls a tablet from his jacket, swiping to a report.
"I tracked down Aurelia's friend, the one who got the video of Ciara and Nate," he says, his voice steady, clinical. "Forced the truth out of her. She didn't know anything. The video was sent to her phone, no sender ID, no trace. Just a burner number."
He pauses, his eyes meeting mine, and I feel the weight of what's coming. "The photo Aurelia got last night? Sent from the same number. Someone's targeting her, boss."
My blood runs cold, then hot, a rage so sharp it's almost pain.
Someone's after her, not just to kill, but to break her, to tear us apart, and the thought of her hurt, doubting me, doubting us, is a knife in my gut.
I grip the table, my knuckles whitening.
"Is it linked to the accident?" I ask, thinking of that night a month ago, the car that nearly ran us off the road.
Nico nods, his jaw tight.
"Most likely," he says. "The timing, the precision, it's too clean to be random. But we don't know who. No names, no faces. Just a pattern. Whoever it is, they've got a personal vendetta against your relationship with Aurelia. They want her isolated, broken."
The words settle heavy inside me, and I feel every eye on me, waiting for my reaction, but all I see is her, her golden eyes, her smile on the beach, the way she leaned into me last night, trusting me despite the photo, despite the pain.
I'll die before I let anyone take that from her.
Chase shifts in his seat, his voice cutting through the silence, half-joking but heavy.
"If Ciara was alive, I'd say it was her," he says, glancing at me. "This smells like her kind of petty."
The mention of Ciara twists something in me, a cold, nagging doubt, a shadow I can't shake.
I lean back in the chair, and the words spill out before I can stop them, dark and final.
"Dig up her grave," I say, my voice flat, lethal. "Now."
Chase's head snaps up, his eyes wide.
"You're not serious, are you?" he asks, half-laughing, like he thinks I'm bluffing, but he knows me better than that.
I lean forward again, my hands flat on the table, my voice a low growl.
"I don't care if you have to rip Ciara's bones apart," I say, each word a vow. "I want to know it's her in that coffin. I want to know no one's playing games with my wife's life. I want Aurelia safe, safe from ghosts, from enemies, from anyone who thinks they can touch her."
Nico doesn't flinch, just nods, scribbling a note on his pad, his voice calm.
"We're on it," he says, and I know he means it, graves, bodies, whatever it takes, he'll do it, because my word is law, and Aurelia's safety is my gospel.
I turn to the others, my voice steady, unyielding.
"Ten guards on her at all times," I say, my eyes sweeping the room, daring anyone to question me. "Day and night, wherever she goes. No gaps, no mistakes. If she breathes, I want someone watching, someone ready to die for her. Understood?"
Heads nod, murmurs of agreement, but Chase leans forward, his brow furrowed.
"Ten?" he says, his voice cautious. "Luciano, she's gonna hate that. Aurelia's not exactly a fan of being caged."
"They will be keeping her safe from a distance, and I will let her know about it. I will not keep it a secret from her," I say, my voice low, final. "She's my wife. My responsibility and I'm not taking chances, not with her life on the line."
Chase holds my gaze, then sighs, leaning back, knowing better than to argue when I'm like this.
Nico's already typing, setting plans in motion, and I feel the room shift, my orders locking into place like pieces of a machine.
But it's not enough, not until I know who's behind this, until I can rip them apart with my bare hands for daring to hurt her.
I think of her last night, her voice breaking as she told me about the funeral, how my tears for Ciara made her feel like nothing, and it's a wound, a failure I'll never forgive myself for.
She's everything and I'll shield her from this, from whoever's out there, even if it means digging up graves, burning bridges, losing myself.
I stand, the chair scraping, my blood still roaring with the need to act, to protect, to claim her in every way that matters.
"Find them," I say, my voice a command that echoes in the room. "Whoever's doing this, I want their name, their blood, their fucking soul. No one touches Aurelia. No one."
The men nod, rising, ready to move, but my mind's already on her, upstairs, maybe sleeping, her dark hair spilled across the pillow, her body soft and warm, unaware of the war I'm waging for her.
Whoever's out there, they don't know what they've unleashed, but they'll learn, nobody fucks with Mrs. Costa, not while I'm breathing.