Chapter 40
GIA
The compound smells like a hospital that’s been built inside a fortress—all antiseptic, gun oil, and the lingering, metallic ghost of a war that ended only a few hours ago.
I’m sitting on the edge of a velvet armchair in the guest suite of Matteo’s estate, my hands folded so tightly in my lap that my knuckles are white.
I’ve scrubbed the blood off my skin until it turned a raw, angry pink, but I can still feel the weight of it.
Every time I close my eyes, I see the single red bloom on Salvatore’s forehead.
I see the light leaving the eyes of the man who turned me into a ghost.
Beside me, the air feels stagnant, heavy with the weight of things left unsaid.
Across from me, Laura is curled up on a sofa, finally asleep under a heavy wool blanket.
She looks so small, her dark curls fanned out against the cushion, her chest rising and falling in the first peaceful rhythm she’s had since the O'Rourkes took her.
She’s safe. That’s the only thing that matters. Even if the man who saved her never wants to look at me again.
I should feel victorious. The Brotherhood won.
My father is dead. The Irish are scattered.
But as I stare at the closed bedroom door, all I feel is a hollow, aching dread.
Rafael hasn’t spoken to me since we left the De Luca compound.
He brought us here, handed us over to the medical staff, and vanished into the war room with Matteo and the others.
He’s going to send me away. Why wouldn't he? I was the leak. I was the knife at his back. Even if I turned it on my father in the end, I’m still a De Luca. I’m still the girl who lied every time he kissed her.
The thought is a jagged piece of glass in my throat.
A soft click at the door makes me jump. I’m on my feet before it even opens, my "Ghost Heiress" mask snapping into place, though my heart is trying to hammer its way out of my ribs.
Rafael walks in.
He’s changed his clothes. The blood-stained tactical gear is gone, replaced by a black suit, the fabric perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders.
His white shirt is crisp and stark against his tanned skin, the top button open just enough to hint at the power beneath.
He looks lethal. He looks like the King of the East. He looks like a man who has just finished a harvest and has no room in his life for a traitor.
He stops in the center of the room, his green eyes scanning the space until they land on me.
He doesn't say a word. He just stands there, the sexual tension between us so thick it feels like it’s vibrating in the air—a low-frequency hum that makes the hair on my arms stand up.
Even now, with the wreckage of my betrayal between us, I want to cross the room and bury my face in his chest. I want to find out if the "quiet space" he found in me is still there, or if it burned down at the compound.
"Laura is okay. She’s... stable," I whisper, my voice sounding thin, like it’s being dragged over gravel. I gesture to the sofa. "The doctor said she just needs sleep. And time to forget."
Rafael looks at the sleeping girl for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he looks back at me, his gaze sharpening. "She’s under Brotherhood protection now, Gia. Her safety is my authority. No one touches her. Ever again."
"I know. Thank you. For everything." I wrap my arms around myself, a stubborn, defensive movement to keep from shaking.
"So... what happens now? Is the car waiting to take me to the airport? Or is there a basement in this house too? I assume you don’t have much use for a spy who failed her mission. "
Rafael’s jaw tightens, a muscle feathering at the hinge. He walks toward me, his pace slow and predatory, until he’s standing right in front of me. He reaches out, his large hand cupping the side of my neck, his thumb grazing my jawline.
"You think I’m letting you go?" he asks, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
"I betrayed you, Rafael! I spied on you. I memorized your life and handed it to a man who wanted you in a casket." I'm crying now, the tears finally breaking through the wall of my pride. "I let you love me while I was destroying you."
"And then you handed me his head," Rafael counters, his fingers tightening slightly, pulling me closer until our chests are almost touching. "You gave me the trap. You saved my men. You chose me over your own blood when it mattered most. You didn't fail your mission, Gia. You changed sides."
"I lied to you," I sob.
He leans in, his lips ghosting over my forehead, a touch so tender it hurts more than his anger would. "You’re the only liar I’ve ever wanted to keep. Now, get dressed. There’s a formal assembly. The Brotherhood is waiting for their Don. And I’m not going down there alone."
"Rafael, they’ll kill me. Dante and Enzo—they know. They want my head on a pike."
"They want whatever I tell them to want," he growls, his eyes darkening with a possessive fire. "And right now, they need to see exactly who you are to me. "
The conference room breathes with the heavy, masculine energy of victory.
It’s filled with men dressed in dark suits, their faces grim and battle-hardened. The air is thick with the scent of expensive cigars and success. At the far end, Matteo is seated at the head of a massive table. Dante and Enzo are beside him, looking like twin pillars of violence.
I’m standing at the back, my hand tucked into the crook of Rafael’s arm.
I’m wearing a black dress that fits like a second skin, my hair falling in dark waves over my shoulders.
I feel like I’m walking to my own execution.
Every eye in the room is on me as we move down the center aisle.
I can hear the whispers—the sharp, jagged mentions of the "De Luca girl" and "the rat. "
Rafael doesn't flinch. He leads me forward, his head held high, his grip on my arm a steady, unyielding anchor. We reach the Matteo, and the room goes silent—the kind of silence that happens right before a storm breaks.
"Rafael," Matteo says, his voice carrying the absolute authority of a Don.
He stands up, his gaze moving from Rafael to me with a calculation that makes my skin crawl.
"The war is over. The O'Rourkes are gone.
The De Luca threat is eliminated. We are here to acknowledge the victory and the price paid. "
A man stands up, his eyes narrowing as he looks at me. "The price was almost Rafael’s life, Matteo. We had an infiltrator in our midst. A spy who fed our movements to the Irish for weeks. Why is she standing here instead of in a cell? Why is a De Luca breathing Brotherhood air?"
The room murmurs in agreement—a low, dangerous growl of several hundred men. I feel the stubbornness flare in my chest, my jaw tightening.
I won't beg. I won't cry. If they want to kill me, they can do it while I’m looking them in the eye.
Rafael lets go of my arm. He steps forward, standing between me and the rest of the Brotherhood. He looks at Dante, then at Enzo, and finally at Matteo.
"She was sent here as a spy," Rafael says, his voice projecting to the very back of the hall. It’s a cold, hard sound that silences every whisper.
"She was not even informed that she was going to marry me, she was just brought to the church and handed to me.
She was given orders to dismantle us from the inside.
She was used by a father who saw her as nothing more than a piece of currency to be spent.
She had no choice, he threatened to kill her kid sister. "
I close my eyes, waiting for the final blow.
"But when the time came to pull the trigger," Rafael continues, his voice deepening into something resonant and absolute, "she didn't. She chose us.
She chose the Brotherhood. She gave us the intel that allowed us to wipe out the O'Rourkes and her own blood in a single night.
She risked her life, and the life of her sister, to ensure we were the ones standing when the smoke cleared. "
He turns back to me, reaching out his hand.
I hesitate, my breath catching in my throat. I look at his hand—the hand that killed my father, the hand that held me while I cried. I take it.
He pulls me to his side, his arm wrapping around my waist, flush against his hip. It’s a public claim, a declaration of ownership that leaves no room for doubt.
"This marriage was born out of a political trade," Rafael says, his eyes scanning the crowd with a lethal challenge.
"But it is no longer an obligation. Gia is a Caruso by choice.
She holds her place beside me not because of her name, but because she earned it on the battlefield.
Any suspicion toward her is suspicion toward me.
And we all know how I handle suspicion."
The silence that follows is absolute. I can see the shift in the room—the anger doesn't disappear, but it’s replaced by a begrudging, heavy respect. Rafael isn't just protecting me; he’s validating me.
“Ghost Heiress is dead, and the Caruso Queen has taken her place.”
Matteo looks at us for a long moment, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. He raises his glass. "To the Brotherhood. And to the women who keep us from burning the world down."
"To the Brotherhood!" the room roars back.
The tension breaks. The formal assembly dissolves into a low hum of conversation and the clinking of crystal. Dante and Enzo step forward, their expressions still grim, but the lethal edge is gone.
"You're a lucky man, Rafe," Dante grunts, nodding toward me with a sharp, respectful dip of his head. "Most women would have just run for the hills. She’s got a spine. I’ll give her that."
"She’s a pain in the ass," Rafael mutters, though the look he gives me is anything but annoyed. "But she’s mine."
Matteo approaches us, his wife Alessia on his arm. Beside them are Bianca and Dante, and Isabella and Enzo. The women look at me with eyes full of a soft, welcoming warmth that I don't deserve.
"You did good, Gia," Isabella says, reaching out to squeeze my hand. "We know what it cost you. You're one of us now. Truly."
"We've already set up a room for Laura," Bianca chirps, her eyes bright with excitement. "She’s going to love the gardens. And I’ve already decided she’s going to be my personal shopping assistant once she’s up to it. She has excellent taste in hair ribbons."
I feel the lump in my throat returning, but this time, it’s not from fear. It’s from a sense of belonging I’ve never known. I’m standing in a circle of people who should be my enemies, but they’re looking at me like I’m family.
"Thank you," I whisper, looking at the women. "I don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything," Alessia says with a sassy wink, leaning in close. "Just make sure you keep Rafael in line. He’s been a nightmare. We’re all tired of his sulking. It was affecting the atmosphere at brunch."
Rafael growls a low warning, but his hand on my waist is gentle, his thumb grazing my hip in a slow, possessive circle. "I don't sulk."
"You do," I chime in, my stubbornness returning as the adrenaline fades. "You’re a very large, very grumpy bear, Rafael. Everyone knows it. You probably have a professional sulking chair."
The laughter that follows is genuine, a bright, healing sound that signals the end of the war. We stay there for hours, the men talking strategy and territory, the women talking about the future. The unity that was once forced by a contract is now fully, undeniably real.
As the night winds down, Rafael leads me back toward our suite. The compound is quiet now, the soldiers having retired to their quarters. We walk through the dim hallways, the sexual tension between us flaring back to life the moment we’re alone.
He stops at the door to our room, pinning me against the wood. He doesn't say anything. He just looks at me, his green eyes dark with a hunger that makes my knees weak.
"You heard what I said down there," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over my ear.
"I heard."
"I meant every goddamn word, Gia. You're not a trade anymore. You're mine. And I’m going to spend the rest of our lives making sure you never forget it."
He kisses me then—a deep, possessive kiss that tastes like victory and a promise. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, my body melting into his. The ghost of the past is finally gone, replaced by the man standing in front of me.
"I love you, Rafael," I whisper against his lips.
"I know," he mutters, his hand finding the zip of my dress. "Now, let me show you exactly how much I love you."
We move into the room, the door clicking shut behind us. The war is over. The betrayal is forgiven. And as I look at the man who burned the world down to save me, I realize that for the first time in my life, I’m not waiting for the countdown to hit zero.
I’m waiting for the first page of the rest of my life.
I am Gia Caruso. And I’m finally home.