Chapter 27 Emilio
Emilio
The phone feels heavy in my hand as I look at Matteo's number, my thumb hovering over the call button.
The car idles in the shadows of abandoned warehouses in an industrial area three miles from the Plaza, where everything went wrong.
Mara chose to save me over completing her mission, leaving Chase's assassination to rescue me instead.
Now we're both being hunted. Beside me, Mara sits in a blood-stained burgundy dress, the elegant gown now torn and marked with Connor Callahan's blood. In the district's dull lighting, she looks like a beautiful ghost.
My family's kill order looms over us. Domenico's decision was quick and final: failing the mission means death.
No appeals, no second chances, no interference from brothers who are too obsessed to think clearly.
Mara didn't fail because she was incompetent or scared.
She failed because she chose me over everything else when it mattered.
"We'll just explain it to your family," she says. "I saved your life! You're a Rosetti. They're Rosettis. They'd do anything for you."
I nod slowly. "Well, that's true."
"So, then…"
"They'll say you could have done both, baby."
She flinches at my possessive tone, but doesn't pull away when I take her hand. Her fingers are cold, stained with blood that's not hers.
I swipe my thumb across the phone before pride can stop me. It rings once before Matteo's familiar voice fills the car.
"Jesus Christ, Emilio," he says, sounding more than just tired. "Do you know what chaos she's started?"
"She protected what's hers," I reply, my voice rough with mixed feelings of satisfaction and need. "It's called love."
"Love doesn't come with kill orders and family ultimatums." His tone changes, not as frozen as before, but still frosty. "Dom's been in meetings since the Plaza reports. Eight dead, including Connor Callahan. Chase survived, which means this war just got worse."
Cold dread fills my stomach, but I keep my voice steady. "Mara saved my life."
"You can handle yourself. Her job was to kill Callahan."
"She had her reasons."
"I'm sure she did." Matteo's laugh carries bitter edges. "Tell me, brother, when exactly did you decide your cock was more important than family survival?"
My jaw tightens, but I know this is a test. He's trying to provoke the old me, the Emilio who would react with controlled anger.
"When I realized some things are more important than blood," I say softly. "When I understood that choosing her wasn't a betrayal. It was growth."
We pause, the silence heavy with our shared past and recent betrayals.
"Look, Matt, I need your help."
When he speaks again, his tone is flat. "You want my help?" There's no warmth, just a cold evaluation. "Then meet me in person. Prove you're still my brother and not just her puppet."
The insult hits home, but I sense hope hidden beneath his hostility. Meeting face-to-face means there's still a chance. He's not completely giving up on me.
"Where?"
"The old pier. Pier 49, where we fished with Nonna." His voice softens slightly. "Thirty minutes. Come alone, or don't come at all."
The call ends, leaving me staring at the phone while Mara watches me closely.
"Will he help?" she asks, but her tone suggests she knows it's complicated.
"Maybe." I check my watch: 12:17 AM. "But there are conditions."
"What kind?"
"The kind where I have to prove I can still choose family over obsession when it matters." The words taste bitter. "Even when the obsession is you."
Her smile is sharp, dangerous, hinting at secrets not yet uncovered. "And can you?"
The question hangs between us. This isn't about tactics; it's about the question that's defined us since she came back to New York.
"Not a chance in hell," I mutter, starting the engine.
The drive to Pier 49 takes us through deserted streets that smell of salt and old factories. Mara is quiet beside me, knowing this talk will decide if we find safety or face the family's hunters alone.
"Stay in the car," I tell her as we near the deserted fishing pier. "Keep the doors locked and the engine on. If anything feels wrong, drive away. Don't wait for me."
"And go where?" Her voice is heavy with the realization that she's run out of safe places. "Your family wants me dead, Emilio. The Callahans want me dead. I'm only alive because you're risking everything to save me."
"That's enough," I say, leaning over to kiss her, a kiss full of promises. "As long as I'm alive, you're safe. That's not up for debate."
Her taste lingers as I walk toward the pier, the salty air sharp around me.
The old fishing pier stretches into the dark like a concrete finger pointing to nowhere.
I haven't been here in over ten years, but I remember exactly where Matteo and I used to sit with our grandmother, sharing secrets before we learned Rosetti children can't dream without paying a price.
He's already there when I arrive, outlined by the harbor lights. A silver coin spins between his fingers, showing his growing tension. Even in the dark, I can see his unease.
"Twenty-nine minutes," he comments without turning around. "You're still on time, even when you're running for your life."
"Dad taught us that being on time is crucial for survival." I sit next to him on the concrete barrier, close enough to catch the scent of his expensive cologne. "Seems like none of the other lessons stuck."
"Seems not." His voice is sharp. "Tell me, Milo, when you were creating your digital empire to find this woman, did you ever think about what it would cost the rest of us?"
The old nickname stings more than any insult. "What do you mean?"
"I mean watching my twin get lost in obsession while the family suffered." He stops fiddling with the coin in his fingers. "I mean years of making excuses for your absences, your distraction, your inability to focus on anything that didn't involve her digital trail."
His words strike with precision, but beneath the anger, I detect something deeper. Hurt. The pain of seeing a brother pick isolation over connection.
"I never asked you to cover for me."
"You didn't need to." His laugh is bitter. "You're my other half, Milo. My twin. And that's what brothers do, right? Protect each other from consequences, even when one brother is too far gone to notice the sacrifice."
The accusation hurts because it's true. I'd been so caught up in hunting Mara that I'd stopped noticing how my obsession impacted those who mattered most.
"You're right," I say quietly, shifting my weight as the board creaks beneath me. "I disappeared. Chose her over everything else, including you."
"Yeah, you did." The coin starts moving again, but slower now. "The question is, was it worth it?"
I think about Mara in the car behind us, blood-stained and exhausted but alive. About her choice at the Plaza, saving my life instead of finishing her mission. About how she looks at me like I'm worth any sacrifice.
"Yes," I say plainly. "She was worth everything."
Matteo looks at me under the harbor lights, reading my expressions with a deep understanding. When he speaks again, his voice shows reluctant acceptance. "Wow, you really love her."
"More than breathing."
"And she loves you enough to give up everything she's worked for?"
"She saved my life and now she faces execution because of it," I say.
"So what now? You keep running? Hide while the family hunts you both?"
"I keep her alive," I reply with complete certainty. "No matter what it takes."
Matteo sighs, full of frustration. "You know Dom issued a kill order."
"Yeah, you mentioned."
"Multiple teams. Full resources." His tone becomes cold. "They're not messing around, Emilio. This isn't about bringing you back, it's about getting rid of the threat she poses."
"I know." My hands form fists. "That's why I need your help."
"My help." He repeats, the coin flipping faster in his hand. "Why would I risk everything to save you? After watching you choose her over us for months?"
"Because you're my brother," I say softly. "Because deep down, you still care about what happens to me."
"That's a risky assumption."
"Is it?" I look him in the eyes. "Because you're here, Matt. You came when I called, despite everything. That has to mean something."
Silence lingers between us as the waves hit the concrete below. When Matteo speaks again, his voice is calm and steady.
"I have a place. But it's not what you're expecting."
"What kind of place?"
"The kind that brings trouble you won't like." His jaw tightens. "Remember Sophia Reyes? My ex from last year?"
A chill runs through me. Sophia is intense, smart, and dangerous in a way only hurt people can be. She had loved Matteo deeply but was pushed aside when his family needed him elsewhere.
"The art dealer."
"The art dealer I messed up when Dom needed me to focus on the Callahan situation." His words are laced with shame. "I left her in the lurch on a deal that cost her a lot of money and time. She's held a grudge ever since."
It becomes painfully clear. "And now you want to ask her for help."
"She owes me," he says, but he doesn't sound sure. "An old debt from before things went bad between us. She has a place in Queens, off the books, no family ties."
"And she hates you."
"She hates me." He confirms what we both know. "Which means she'll probably hate you too. But she sticks to her debts, even if she'd rather destroy everything."
The harbor wind brings salty air and city grime, adding to my unease. Trading one danger for another.
"What's the downside?"
"The downside is she's unpredictable. Unstable. She might decide helping you isn't worth it and turn on me later." He flips his coin nervously. "Also, the neighborhood isn't fancy. It's industrial Queens, with sirens every night and a place where fancy cars get taken apart for parts."
"How long can we stay?"
"Few days, maybe a week if you're lucky and she doesn't get bored." Matteo's expression hardens. "After that, she'll either kick you out or do something that draws attention you can't afford. She's not stable, Emilio. This isn't a solution, it's just buying time."
His harsh truth lingers between us. Not a rescue, just delaying the unavoidable. Trading one problem for another.
But it's time to think, plan, and find a real solution that doesn't involve endless running or dying in a dramatic blaze.
"Address," I say, my mind made up.
Matteo gives me an address that sounds like it's in another universe—industrial Queens, far from the luxury I've known. A place where Rosetti privilege means nothing, and survival depends on being adaptable.
"One more thing," he says as I get ready to leave. "This doesn't fix things between us. Helping you doesn't mean I agree with your choices or forgive what you've done to the family. It just means I prefer a brother who's alive and wrong to one who's dead and right."
I smile. That's not exactly a grand reconciliation, but it's a recognition that family ties are deeper than business disagreements.
"Thank you," I say, already heading toward the woman who trusts me with her life.
"Thank me by keeping her alive long enough to prove she's worth the chaos you've created." His expression softens slightly. "And Emilio? Next time you pick a woman over family business, maybe give your twin a heads up first. Saves everyone the drama of kill orders."