Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Rocco
Selena had retrieved my suit from the Mardi Gras Hotel. I didn’t want to wear anything Angelo had bought me, but I didn’t have other clothes. The fabric felt like a reminder of every string he’d used to manipulate me.
Tomorrow I’d burn this suit and buy something new. Or borrow from Selena until I got my first paycheck.
Selena parked her SUV in front of Costin’s home on campus. She clasped my hand. “Are you nervous?”
“Yes. The only thing I’ve been doing for the last two years is burning burgers.”
She leaned over and kissed me. “You’ll be fine.”
As we approached the front door, it swung open. Costin’s butler, Ethan, stood in the doorway—bald, immaculate in his suit, exactly as I remembered him from my years at the Academy. Some things never changed.
“Good evening, Rocco, Selena. Come in.” He stepped aside. “They’re waiting for you.”
They. Something about the way he said it made my stomach tighten.
Selena walked in first. She stopped. And smiled.
“Rocco!”
My mother rushed toward me, tears streaming down her face, and flung her arms around my neck. I held her tight, breathing her in, trying not to think about what I’d done the last time a demon had climbed inside me. What I’d almost done to her.
“Serenity told us what happened,” she whispered. “How Angelo forced you to steal the shard or he’d have me murdered.”
My throat closed. “I’d do anything to save you, Mom.”
She pulled back and cupped my face in her hands. “I know. That’s what scares me.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Costin,” she said simply, and looped her arm through mine.
She led me into the living room. My brother Dante, my father, and Costin stood with drinks in hand. Their conversation died the moment they saw me.
Selena came alongside me and held my hand.
Dante set his drink down and walked over. “I guess thanks is in order.”
The look in his eyes said nothing had changed between us. Probably never would.
“Dante,” Mom warned.
“I’m not going to cause a scene, Mom.” He turned back to me. “What Angelo did — threatening Mom to get to you. I won’t forget that.” His jaw tightened. “Santi’s a real bastard.”
“Maybe someday you two can be friends again,” Mom said.
Dante sighed. “I should say no...” He looked at me for a long moment. “But maybe when you come back to the palace.”
“I’m not coming back to the palace.” I squeezed Selena’s hand. “I’m staying with Selena. She’s my mate.”
“But she can move into the palace,” Mom said.
“She could.” I clasped my brother’s arm. “But things have changed, Mom. Forever. The people will never accept me. What I did was brutal. Unforgivable.”
“But you were possessed,” she said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
I sighed and dropped my hand. “I still did it.” I looked at Dante. “You’re the rightful heir. You and Katona will produce an heir, and your line will carry the throne forward. That’s how it should be.”
Dad came over and tilted his head. “Costin told me who you now work for. What you did to protect your mother.” He clasped my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son.”
Three words. Three words I’d spent two years convinced I’d never hear from him again. My throat clogged up and I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even nod. I just stood there, jaw clenched so tight it ached, blinking hard against the burn behind my eyes. I would not cry. Not here. Not in front of everyone.
His hand tightened on my shoulder, and I think he knew. I think he saw exactly what those words did to me and held on a little longer because of it.
“But I was there that night, Rocco. I saw what happened to your mother. That’s something that can’t be erased.” His voice softened. “For any of us.”
I swallowed hard. He wasn’t wrong. I could still see it — every detail branded into my memory like a scar that wouldn’t fade.
“But Costin tells me you’ll have a place here until Michael calls you.” He held my gaze. “That’s a good start.”
He dropped his hand. I exhaled — slow, shaking — and realized I’d been holding my breath the entire time.
Costin came over with a glass of Chosen Blood and handed it to me. “This is a new beginning.” He glanced at Selena. “For both of you.”
I looked down at the glass. Then at Selena. Then at my mother, my brother, my father — all of them here, all of them still standing in the same room as me despite everything.
Maybe I didn’t deserve this. Maybe I never would.
But I was done running from it.
Later that night when Selena and I returned home, I studied her as I took off my jacket and tossed it onto the recliner. “You knew they were going to be there, didn’t you?”
She slipped her arms around my neck. “Yes, I did. Julienne called and let me know.”
I wrapped my arms around her waist. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“No, you were taking a nap and looked so peaceful.” She smiled. “Besides, I knew you wouldn’t go.”
I lifted her into my arms. “You wanted me to confront my family?”
“Not confront. Make amends. Not be ostracized.” She kissed me as I carried her up the stairs. “You needed that to heal.”
“That’s not what healed me, Selena.” I stopped on the stairs and looked into her eyes.
Really looked — past the strength, past the stubbornness, past the fire that had kept her fighting for me even when I’d given up on myself.
Down to the woman who had crawled through hell beside me, who had stood between me and an archangel, who had blocked the door when I tried to run, who had refused — absolutely refused — to let me become the monster I was so convinced I already was.
“It was you,” I whispered. “It was always you.”
Her eyes glistened. Her fingers curled into the hair at the back of my neck. “Rocco...”
“I’m done running. I’m done punishing myself. I’m done being afraid of what I might become.” I pressed my forehead against hers. “You gave me back my life, Selena. And tonight I’m going to show you what that means to me.”
I kissed her. Slow. Deep. The kind of kiss that said everything my stubborn, broken heart had spent two years refusing to say.
She melted into me, her tears warm against my cheeks, and I held her tighter, carrying her up the last of the stairs toward the bedroom — toward our bedroom, in our home, in a life I’d almost been too afraid to claim.
The door closed behind us.
And for the first time in as long as I could remember, I wasn’t looking over my shoulder. I wasn’t bracing for the next disaster. I wasn’t cataloging all the ways I didn’t deserve this.
I was just a man holding the woman he loved.
And that was enough.