Chapter 20 – Nico
The vault beneath Marco’s casino feels like a lifetime ago, though it’s only been hours. We tore through their world—Vince’s lies, Marco’s plans, their men bleeding out on cold steel floors.
We grabbed what mattered—ledgers, cash, proof—and moved through the city’s wet streets, rain washing the fight from our skin but not our minds. Luca’s back at the hideout now, sorting the take, planning next steps. I don’t care about the details. Not yet.
I sit on a boardwalk bench, wood worn smooth by years of salt and time, Elara beside me. The ocean stretches out, dark and endless, waves rolling in steady, like they’re trying to pull the night’s weight away. My arm brushes hers, not planned, just natural. Her chain catches the dawn’s first light, glinting against her jacket.
Blood’s still on her knuckles, dried into cracks, same as mine. We haven’t bothered cleaning up. The fight’s done, but its edge lingers, sharp and familiar.
I look at her, her eyes fixed on the water, face calm but not soft. “Stay,” I say, voice low, not demanding, just honest.
She tilts her head, meeting my gaze, lips curving slightly. “Maybe.”
I lean back, hands resting on the bench. “You could run. I’d get it.”
Her eyes narrow, not cold, just searching. “But you think I won’t?”
I hold her look, unflinching. “I think you don’t want to anymore.”
She laughs, a quick breath, almost sharp. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
I grin, feeling the truth in her words, in her being here. “You’re still here.”
She never belonged to anyone. That hasn’t changed. But maybe she belongs here. With me. That’s enough.
Her fingers tap the bench, close to mine, chain shifting against her chest. I reach out, brushing the metal links, not grabbing, just touching something that’s hers, warmed by her. She doesn’t move away. That’s enough to make my chest feel tight, not weak, just real. The night’s been brutal—blades, lies, bodies—but sitting here, with her, feels like something we fought for.
“You still don’t think about stopping?” she asks, voice even, eyes back on the waves.
I shift, facing her fully. “Stopping what? All this?” I nod toward the city behind us, the blood on our hands, the life we’ve built.
“Yeah.” She turns to me, her gaze steady. “The fights. The running. Always looking over our shoulders.”
I rub my knuckles, feeling the dried blood flake off. “This is who I am.”
She nods, like she expected that. “Doesn’t mean it’s all you want.”
“You think I want something else?” I ask, watching her close.
Her fingers still, resting near mine. “I think you want this.” She gestures between us, not touching, just pointing out what’s there. “Something that’s not just knives and deals.”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “You’re right. I want you here. Not because I need you to fight. Because I want you to stay.”
Her eyes soften, just a fraction, but she doesn’t look away. “That’s a big ask, Nico.”
“I know.” I sit up, meeting her gaze. “But I’m asking anyway.”
She’s quiet for a moment, looking back at the ocean. “I’ve been running since I was a kid. From Tommy, from Vince, from everyone who thought they could own me. Stopping feels… wrong.”
“But you’re still sitting here,” I say, voice steady. “That’s not running.”
She laughs again, softer this time. “You’re too good at this.”
“At what?” I raise an eyebrow, leaning closer.
“Making me think I could stay.” Her hand brushes mine, not accidental, fingers lingering. “I’m not saying yes. Not yet.”
“I’ll take ‘not yet’ over nothing,” I say, turning my hand to hold hers, loose but firm. “You don’t owe me promises.”
“Good, ‘cause I’m bad at those.” Her thumb traces my knuckles, rough and slow. “But I’m not leaving today.”
I squeeze her hand, just enough. “That’s enough.”
She pulls back, but not far, her shoulder still close to mine. “What happens now? Marco’s done, Vince too. Their crews are in pieces.”
I look out at the water, dawn turning it gold at the edges. “Someone’ll try to fill the gap. Always do. Luca’s already got names—guys who were loyal to Marco, others who’ll want what we took.”
“You trust Luca to handle it?” she asks, voice sharp, like she’s testing.
“He’s solid,” I say, meeting her eyes. “But I’m not handing this off. We’re in it, you and me.”
Her lips curve, a real smile this time. “You sure you want me in your mess?”
“I’m sure I don’t want you anywhere else.” I lean closer, my hand brushing her chain again, feeling its weight. “You’re better at this than anyone I’ve known.”
She snorts, shaking her head. “Flattery’s not your style.”
“It’s not flattery,” I say, voice low. “It’s the truth. You’re sharp, steady. You don’t break.”
Her eyes meet mine, holding steady. “Neither do you.”
“Not with you here,” I say, and I mean it, every word.
She’s quiet again, then leans her head against my shoulder, just for a moment. “This is new. Sitting like this. Not fighting, not running.”
“Yeah,” I agree, feeling her warmth against me. “Feels right, though.”
“It does.” She lifts her head, looking at me. “But don’t get used to it. I’m not good at staying still.”
I laugh, rough. “I’ll keep up.”
“You’d better.” Her hand finds mine again, fingers lacing tight. “What’s the next move?”
I think about it, the city waking behind us, the fight never really over. “We head back to the hideout. Go through what we took from the vault. Figure out who’s coming for us next.”
“You think it’s gonna be bad?” she asks, voice steady, ready.
“Always is,” I say, meeting her gaze. “But we’re better.”
She nods, chain glinting as she shifts. “Then we’re ready.”
I stand, offering my hand. She takes it, standing with me, her grip strong. The boardwalk’s empty, but I feel the city stirring, the next fight waiting. We’ve got time, though, a moment we chose, and that’s enough.
“Let’s move,” I say, falling in step beside her.
“Together?” she asks, glancing at me.
“Always,” I say, and we walk, hands brushing, dawn lighting our way.