Chapter 14
Aurelia
FLASHBACK
Six years ago
Izip up my knee-high black heeled boots, tugging until the zipper clicks into place.
My strapless black dress is snug, hugging tighter than anything I’ve ever worn.
Almost as tight as the dresses Papa has me wearing for his meetings.
The fabric clings, sleek and smooth against my skin.
My legs look longer and carved into something older, sexier than I actually am.
I’ve gone darker with my makeup too—liner smudged into something smoky, my lashes thick, my lips glossed just enough to catch the light, and my straightened hair falling down my back.
Behind me, Genevieve leans over my vanity, painting her lips a perfect red.
She borrowed my gold strappy heels and paired them with a navy one-shoulder dress that makes her look…
devastating. Polished. Effortless. Next to her, I think I’m trying too hard.
I know tonight she’ll draw every eye in the room without even meaning to.
We spritz perfume, swap earrings, snap mirror pictures with soft laughter that almost feels like freedom. Up here, it’s a bubble, the scent of powder, the gleam of gilt frames on the wall, the sound of our muffled giggles. But downstairs, the bubble bursts.
“Let’s go already!” Enzo’s voice cuts through the ceiling with impatience.
“Christ, you two take longer than brides,” Elijah adds.
I roll my eyes and grab my clutch.
The stairs echo beneath us, Genevieve’s heels tapping light staccato while my boots thud heavier against the stone.
The foyer glitters with chandelier light, every polished surface reflecting something brighter.
Enzo and Elijah stand near the door, dark suits sculpted to their bodies, their presence heavy, the room almost bending around them.
Elijah’s eyes find me first. He doesn’t look away. There’s a flash—hesitation, maybe conflict—but then his gaze settles. The way he looks at me makes the foyer shrink until it’s just us.
“You look great, Ace,” he says, his voice calm and unreadable.
The words hit too hard, and before I can even react, Enzo cuts across like a blade.
“I’ll get you a hoodie. You’re not stepping out like that.”
I swat at him, breezing past. “I’ll be fine, weirdo. I’ve got my big, strong protectors with me.”
Outside, the night air rushes over my bare shoulders. Enzos black Maserati waits in the driveway, headlights spilling across the cobblestone.
I’m about to slip into the back when Elijah’s hand closes firmly around my arm, pulling me just enough that my back hits the cool metal of the car. My breath stalls. His body doesn’t crowd mine, but it’s close enough to feel his heat, close enough to make me forget how to breathe properly.
“We’re testing something tonight. No matter what happens, you do exactly what I say.”
My pulse spikes, irritation flaring to hide it. “Can you relax? It’s my birthday. I’d like to actually have fun for once.”
His mouth curves slightly, but his eyes don’t soften. If anything, they harden, he’s holding something back. He leans in—so close I catch the crisp bite of his cologne, intoxicating and utterly him.
“You look good,” he confesses. Then lower, so close his lips almost graze my ear, “It almost makes me want to throw my life away just to rip that dress off you.”
The words hit me in the chest. Heat flares across my skin, electric and dizzying, my whole body aware of the space between us.
But before I can move, before I can speak, he’s gone. He slips past me, sliding into the passenger seat as if nothing happened.
I stand frozen, clutch tight in my hand, trying to slow my pulse, praying Genevieve didn’t notice. Enzo’s voice breaks through the night again, and finally, I force myself into the back seat beside her, trying to act as if Elijah didn’t just burn me alive and then walk away.
* * *
The music hits before we’re even inside, loud and rattling in my chest. My palms are already sweating, and I keep tugging at the hem of my dress, trying to settle the nerves buzzing under my skin.
We’re not safe here. Enzo’s said it a hundred times, border clubs mean trouble. But it’s my birthday, and I wanted this. The stories Gen told me, the dancing, the lights, the heat of a hundred bodies moving together, I wanted to feel it for myself.
Gen was able to convince Enzo that it would be okay. Safe as long as we didn’t cross into Vostralya. Surprisingly, he listened.
Enzo walks ahead, clearing the way without saying a word. I follow close, eyes darting to every shoulder I bump into, every flash of jewelry, every hand that brushes too close. Elijah and Gen trail behind me, and I can feel the weight of Elijah watching my every move.
The floor under my boots is sticky, but the smell hits hardest. Sweat, cheap perfume, and alcohol. Not the sleek, golden world I’d imagined. I pictured magic. Neon lights, freedom, the kind of dancing that makes you forget who you are. Instead, it feels edged, crowded, and dangerous.
Still, when the lights flash across the room and I catch a glimpse of the dance floor, my stomach flips with excitement. For a second, I almost forget Enzo’s warnings. I almost forget the rules.
When Enzo stops mid-step, making me crash into his back, I know I’m about to get a lecture. His arms cup my shoulders.
“I have to meet a friend. You will listen to Elijah and do everything he says.”
I look up at him, confused. “Where are you going?”
“To. Meet. A. Friend,” he restates, as if it’s simpler now.
I tilt my head in annoyance, but Elijah is already at my back.
“Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’ll protect you while your trainer takes care of business.”
I don’t miss the dirty look Enzo gives his friend for that comment, but he disappears into the crowd anyway.
Once Enzo is gone, the tension shifts immediately. Gen leans closer to Elijah, brushing against him intentionally, her voice low and teasing. “So, are you always this protective, because I’m finding it very hot.”
Elijah smirks, eyes dark, leaning closer to reply, his hand casually resting near hers. “You can find out.”
I stiffen, my stomach twisting. I love him. I want him. And yet here he is, letting her flirt. I want to say something, anything, but the words stop in my throat.
Gen glances at me, catching my gaze for a fraction of a second. “So are you guys a thing or are you available?”
My mouth falls open, and I look to Elijah for what to say, but his lips are already moving.
“Ace is my friend. I’d kill you to protect her.”
He looks over at me, and I can’t help but smile. “But she’s just my friend.”
And that hit me back to reality.
“Yeah, just friends,” I mutter, forcing a smile. My chest aches, but I force myself to let it slide.
Trying to regain control, I tug on Gen’s arm. “Dance?” I ask, my voice higher than I’d planned.
Her grin widens. “Finally. About time you have fun!”
We weave through the crowd toward the dance floor, the bass thudding in time with my heartbeat. I let the music take over, moving with Gen, laughing when she spins me around.
For a moment, I forget the flashing lights, the sweat, the smell—I almost forget the tension of the club entirely.
Then it happens. A hand brushes past me, sliding down the curve of my ass. My breath catches, but before I can react, Elijah’s already there.
He grabs the guy by the shirt and yanks him off balance. The punch comes fast, bone crunching under his fist. Blood spills from the man’s mouth as he collapses onto the floor.
The music doesn’t even stop. The bass keeps pounding, strobe lights flashing. But the crowd knows better.
Elijah doesn’t back off. He looms over the man, chest heaving, ready to go again.
Enzo reappears at his side in seconds, clamping a hand around Elijah’s arm and yanking him back. “Outside,” he barks.
Elijah resists, jaw clenched, but Enzo doesn’t let him choose. He shoves him toward the exit.
Gen stumbles after them, eyes wide, face pale in the neon lights. “What the fuck was that?” she bites out, heels clicking hard against the floor. “Are you insane? You can’t just—” She cuts herself off, throwing her hands up. “Ugh.”
I glance once at the blood streaking the floor, pulse still racing. My stomach knots, a mix of fear, adrenaline, and excitement.
I know I’m a secret, and I know Elijah and Enzo’s priority is keeping my identity unknown, but—I take a deep breath, then push past the crowd to catch up with them.
Is it stupid to like the protection I get for being their secret? To enjoy that I’m someone worth defending?
Outside, the cold air is pinching my skin. Gen rounds on Elijah before the door even closes. “You can’t do that,” she hisses, shoving his shoulder.
“He put his hands on her,” Elijah snaps back, still wound tight.
Enzo hits back. “You think that matters? You think we want a scene right now, this close to the border? You’re going to start something we can’t walk away from.”
Elijah cracks his neck and glares at Enzo. “Then let them come.”
Gen steps in before it gets worse. “There’s another club a block away,” she says quickly, glancing between them. “It’s a mixed group. No one will care about any of whatever you’re worried about.”
Enzo nods once, already moving. We walk down the street to Enzo’s car, the four of us, tension simmering but controlled.
* * *
The car ride is a bit awkward.
Enzo’s mad at Elijah because he was putting us in danger.
Gen is mad at Elijah because we had to leave the club she wanted to go to.
Elijah is mad at me, judging by the dirty looks he keeps giving back here.
And I’m not mad at anyone. Just excited that Elijah seems jealous.
Maybe he feels more for me than just a duty to my family.
The second club, Confine, sits right on the edge of Italian territory, practically kissing the Vostralya border. The kind of place Enzo swore we shouldn’t set foot in. Which is exactly why I’m surprised he brought us here.