Chapter 24
LOUIS
In the actions of men, and especially of princes, one judges by the result. — Niccolo Machiavelli
She deserved answers.
And I deserved a moment with her—to imagine a life without regret, without the weight of everything pressing down on us.
But first—
I tossed the piece of paper from the black folder onto the bed. “What you’re looking for. I think.”
It was Cassian’s birth certificate.
She picked it up. I saw the exact moment realization hit—saw it in the way her fingers stilled, in the way her breath caught—before she dropped it back onto the bed and swore.
“That’s not what I was expecting.”
I shrugged. “Apparently it was common back then. Heirs were whisked away by nannies. Hidden. Insurance, in case families ever had to flee to the States from the European countries.” I crossed my arms. “Now that they’re all here, there’s going to be a bloodbath.
They’ll demand he return to his rightful place, a place that’s been empty far too long.
Complete and total. The Italians won’t be pleased another will rise to power. ”
Tempest leaned back against the plush white headboard. Listening. Watching.
“Phoenix knows,” I continued. “It’s probably the only reason Cassian’s still breathing. It’s also why the Vescovi can’t afford to kill him. Leverage.” My jaw tightened. “They have something more precious than money.”
Her gaze sharpened. “The missing Velkarya heir—at least one of them. They were given independence by England, stole money from the French. Too small to destroy, rich enough to want to defend with your life. It’s been under the rule of a regent for the last decade after the heirs went missing—some say they died.
I guess we know that’s not the case. Bold, for the Vescovis to keep this secret.
He’s worth more alive than dead. He can literally trace his routes back to Prince Dominique Makslyov.
” She smiled to herself. “I used to love to read stories about the prince, he was a musical prodigy with scarred hands, grumpy disposition, gorgeous face, even bigger heart.” She shook the thought away.
“Some say it’s just another retelling of Beauty and the Beast, I say it’s something more.
” She exhaled. “The Velkarya motto is ‘Per Sanguinem, Pax. Or through blood, peace’.” It was heavy.
It was a lot I’m sure for her to process and I’m sure many men died trying to protect the information.
Tempest looked up. “Someone wanted them gone and now that we know where he is, it’s only natural we set things to right.
” I sucked in a sharp breath. “You, you’ll need to help set things to right, otherwise you wouldn’t have been trusted with this information. ”
I went still. “Now we know why.”
I nodded. “Which begs the question.”
“What does this mean for Cassian? Trade one prison for another?” She frowned. “I knew his hair was fake!”
She was beautiful when she thought—dangerous, sharp. Funny when the moment called for someone to crack. I smiled. “What does it mean for any prodigal son?” I said quietly. “The prince has to go claim his throne. We send Cassian to Velkarya as soon as everything is over.”
She pushed herself up on her elbows. “He’s a survivor. He just needs to get away from the Vescovis long enough to—”
She stopped mid-sentence. And I knew she’d figured it completely out.
“Holy shit,” she breathed. “I’m an idiot.
” Her eyes snapped to mine. “This is all part of the plan. You’re his replacement, aren’t you?
They want the ports open but they want a foothold if they’re to lose him and it’s worth losing him to gain that port and the power that comes with it.
Plus, they must feel powerful enough to finally push him into play.
Can they control him? Does he care? I can’t decide if it’s genius or insanity. ”
Silence. Then I admitted, “Probably both.”
“They won’t just let him go,” she continued, faster now. “But if they have a hold in the Five Families—if they have you—their port, their access—then it’s a fair trade.”
My stomach sank anyway. “Exactly.”
Her gaze dropped from my mouth to the floor. “So, all that’s left is your task. The thing that sets everything in motion.”
“Yes.” No big deal, just bring back a missing heir, take his place in a crime family, prove utter loyalty to do so and hold myself plus everything else together. Sure. Yes. Easy.
She let out a shaky breath. “And that’s why we’re here.” A pause. “What—do we have a few hours?”
“You’d make an excellent assassin,” I joked.
She snorted. “Promise to train me, and I won’t rat you out.”
“I promise.” I was serious too. I would do anything for her—anything I was allowed to that is.
Her eyes filled with tears. “I believe you.”
The words hit harder than getting punched, shot, beat.
“But,” I said softly, “before the hours are up—before it’s time—I’d really like to sit with you and pretend the future doesn’t exist, cheesy as it sounds.”
She laughed through a stream of fresh tears “Is this the part where you ask for pity sex?”
I barked out a laugh. “No. Never pity.” I met her gaze. “Real sex. With the woman I would choose over and over again.”
Her lashes fluttered as she blinked the tears away. “Why?” she whispered. “Why choose me?”
“Because I see no one else,” I said simply. It was my truth. Raw. Her. “You want me to choose air instead?”
“And Raven?” Her voice wavered as she looked away. She was still worried. Jealous. Adorable. “What about her?”
“She’s not you, Tempest,” I said without hesitation. “She will never be you.”
She lifted her chin as if to say that’s right. “Good. Because I’m not her.”
I captured whatever she was going to say next.
It wasn’t a tender kiss. I pulled her into my arms without thinking of anything but tasting her and begging for forgiveness later.
She reached for my side. “Does it hurt?” I shook my head and deepened the kiss.
Pain was nothing compared to what she would suffer later—what I would do later.
She slowly unbuttoned my shirt and tossed it onto the floor. The blood had already scabbed over, so as long as she didn’t violently attack me with her body, I would be okay.
Tempest kissed along my jaw, soft and reverent, like she was memorizing me.
God, it felt good. I didn’t deserve her attention or her comfort—but I took it anyway. I was starving for even a moment with her. Something to dull the guilt pulsing through my veins.
Mine to take.
His life was mine to take.
She was mine too.
Life, it seemed, was never going to be fair to her. Not once.
Her fingers brushed the edge of the wound, and she froze.
“Does it hurt?” she whispered. “Honestly?” What was her fascination with this?
With this fresh wound? “You know there are only two reasons for this, right? Only a family member of high ranking, a captain, made man, a boss, can etch this into your body instead of waiting for the tattoo. It’s to honor the fallen of your own family and claim you as ours—or it’s a way to say goodbye, I forgive you, and see you as mine anyways.
I wonder, who gave this to you, and which it is, Louis.
” She wondered, but she knew. She had to know or have an inkling, try as she may to fight it to her last breath.
“It doesn’t hurt as much as it should,” I said honestly. “Because it felt earned, in the moment, and wounds that are earned don’t burn as bad, they don’t cut as deep.”
She frowned but didn’t push. Instead, she rested her forehead against my chest, breathing me in like she was afraid I might disappear if she didn’t anchor herself to me.
“How long?” she asked quietly. “Until you fulfill your promise to the Vescovi family? Until our game is finished?”
“Seven hours,” I said. “Seven hours until we finish what we started.”
She swallowed. “Then stay,” she said. Not demanded or yelled, or cried, simply asked. “Stay with me. No plans. No futures. Just… us.” She didn’t know, but seven hours might be all we had left.
I cupped the back of her head, pressing my lips into her hair. “I can do that.”
Her hands slid around my waist, careful of the wound, and she looked up at me with those eyes—too perceptive, too knowing. Too smart for her own good, Tempest Alfero.
“Promise me something,” she said.
Anything. I would promise her anything in that moment.
“Stay,” she said again, but this time it was different.
“When it’s time. Don’t disappear without telling me.
Give me… ten minutes. Just ten for goodbyes even if you want to run.
No matter what happens.” She sniffed. “I’ll wait ten minutes and find you, I’ll let you tell me your story and then we decide where we are on this journey, together or forever apart. ”
My throat closed. “I promise,” I said. It was the easiest lie and the hardest truth I’d ever spoken.
We didn’t rush after that.
There was no desperation, no urgency—just the slow ache of two people pretending this moment could stretch forever. Her laughter when I kissed her collarbone. The way she traced familiar lines on my skin like she was grounding herself. The way she whispered my name like it was something fragile.
I held her like I was trying to memorize the weight of her. Like if I pressed her close enough, some part of her might come with me and heal everything broken inside and see me for who I truly was, not who I was being forced to become. The past is an ugly beast, inconvenient when demanding justice.
Mouths fused together, I stripped off the rest of her clothes and settled between her thighs, shoving her far up on the bed until I could grab the headboard and sink into her.
I didn’t warn her. I didn’t plan for it to be so intense so brutal, but I didn’t have patience left, not when it came to her, not when it came to being in her arms.
With a moan she wrapped her arms around me, followed by hooking her ankles behind my ass.
No words were spoken as our bodies moved in sync.
I silenced each cry and wished foolishly for forever, and when she found her release in my arms, I cupped her breasts then lowered my hands to her hips, memorizing those too.
I gripped her by the ass and flipped her onto her stomach and rained kisses down her back.
I took in each and every part of her skin, and when she was finally slick with sweat from me constantly kissing her, loving her, I grabbed my knife and tossed it to her.
“What?” She sat up, the sheet fell from her breasts. “You want to fight now?”
“I’m missing a name,” I whispered. “Yours.”
I gripped her hand around the knife and very slowly dug the tip of it into my skin above the Alfero crest. A small T.
Blood dripped down my waist onto the white sheet. At least, no matter what happened, anyone who crossed me would know—who I belonged to, body and soul, Tempest Alfero.
When sleep finally claimed us, it was tangled and quiet and cruel in its peace.
When I woke, the room was still.
For one terrifying second, I thought she was gone.
Then she shifted beside me, murmuring softly, her hand still curled against my chest.
I let myself breathe.
I let myself have that.
“It’s time,” I said quietly.
Her eyes opened immediately. No confusion. Just acceptance.
A knock sounded at the door. Clothes. Pressed. Perfect. Waiting.
She dressed in silence. I did the same. When she reached for my hand, I didn’t pull away.
When we got into the car, I texted Phoenix that I showed the intel to her and then sent the screenshot to Cassian with a message saying.
“Destroy the evidence of whatever the hell she did or I’m coming for you next.
Phoenix will find you. Do not run. An exchange, is going to be made… ”
We drove back to her parents’ house in relative silence. My phone didn’t go off but when I parked and checked it, Cassian had read the text. Good, let him be terrified that Phoenix was going to find him. I know I would be.
Laughter echoed off the walls when we walked in for brunch. I’d grabbed the small present from the back of the car and held it in my hand. Inside the box was a beautiful gun with only one bullet. A gift. My last. To Dante Alfero.
At brunch, more laughter filled the room.
Plates clinked. Life went on, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.
Dante spent more time than usual talking to his family, smiling, laughing.
Each inside joke made me sick until I wanted to puke.
Finally, I was out of time. I stood and walked over to his side of the table.
I set the box down in front of Dante. Slowly, he opened it and smiled. “You bought me a gun.”
Everyone laughed and started chatting all at once about how may guns he had and his new shooting range.
“Show me,” I whispered. “I haven’t seen it yet.”
“Walk with me,” he said calmly and stood without hesitation.
As we passed Tempest, I tapped her shoulder and whispered. “Ten minutes.”
To her credit she didn’t burst into tears.
She simply reached for Dante’s hand. Squeezed it and kept her vision focused on her mom, when she dropped his hand I knew she knew it was goodbye as a single tear slid down her cheek.
But she’d promised. She’d sworn ten minutes.
And I wondered if I’d spend the rest of the minutes I had in this life apologizing for asking her to make that promise.