Chapter 19
Aurelia
Three jarring knocks jerk me awake, but Hank is already at the door, barking, his body so tense I think he knows exactly who it is. I groan and bury my face deeper into the pillow, willing the world to go quiet.
“Ace,” Elijah’s voice calls, a commanding sound, cutting through the haze of sleep and shame. “Up. You’ve got one minute. We’re running.”
“Fuck off, Elijah!” I yell, muffled into the pillow. My throat burns from words I shouldn’t be saying, and my chest tightens at the thought of him standing there, probably smirking, probably calm as ever.
The door bursts open, slamming against the stopper. Hank goes still, ears flat, body rigid. My pulse spikes, and I shove myself upright, hair tangling across my face.
“That’s a fast minute,” I mutter, voice tight, letting the words slip out before I think. My fingers curl into the sheets, white-knuckled.
He’s standing there, arms crossed, chest rising with the subtle power I’ve always hated and loved in equal measure.
“What did you say to me?” he asks, his voice deceptively composed.
“Which time?” My venom-laced eyes snap to meet his.
He blinks, trying to understand that I’m not the girl who tiptoes around him, the girl who whispers to get attention. Not right now. Not after last night.
“I told you,” I continue, sliding out from under the blanket and forcing myself upright, “to fuck off.”
He hesitates, blinking slowly, trying to figure out who I’ve become.
“Because I don’t want to be near you,” I add tightly, brimming with everything I’ve been holding in—the humiliation, the longing, the fury. “Get me Enzo or literally anyone else to run with.”
“Ace…” He steps forward, tone softening, like he’s trying to reason, to reach me. “Don’t do this. I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m not—”
“Not my boyfriend. Yeah, I know,” I cut him off.
I throw the blanket aside completely, leaving only my white tank top to cover me.
Vulnerable? Maybe. But more than that, I’m angry, aching, and frustrated with myself for wanting him, even after last night. His gaze drops—too long, too intent—but snaps back when he realizes what he’s looking at. I feel a heat spike along my spine, blood hammering through every vein.
“She doesn’t mean anything to you,” I spit, shaking and raw. “So why the hell would you think it’s okay to bring her here? Into my home? Into my kitchen? Into my life?”
He opens his mouth, then closes it. Confusion, guilt, something else flickers across his face. And I hate it. Hate that he doesn’t fully understand. He should know me by now.
I shift and see his eyes drop again. My pulse kicks higher. “Take your eyes off my chest, and listen carefully,” I warn, “I am a De Luca. I deserve the same respect and loyalty you give Enzo. And you, disrespecting me, in my house. That’s grounds for Hank to rip your throat out.”
Hank growls, vibrating through the room and through me, a reminder that I’m not bluffing. Elijah stiffens, just a fraction—not fear, not exactly—but understanding. He knows this isn’t a joke.
“Aurelia, I know it’s different with us, and maybe you wanted that to be you, but—”
I cut him off. “Yeah, I’m not interested in the tiny dick I saw yesterday.” It’s a lie. I didn’t see anything and was too mortified to look. But I see his jaw tick, his fingers tapping on his thigh, and I know he’s pissed.
“Know your place,” I whisper, teeth clenched. “And get the hell out of my room.”
He freezes, a trace of pain crossing his face before vanishing. He nods once, stiffly, and steps back, disappearing down the hallway, the door almost completely closing behind him.
I slump onto the edge of the bed, knees drawn in, hands trembling.
I didn’t mean all of it. Not really. But seeing him with her—the way he let her lean in, touch him, and take even a fraction of the space I’ve always imagined for myself—broke something inside me I didn’t realize I’d been clinging to.
Hope.
Hope that he might see me the way I’ve always seen him.
Hope that maybe, for once, he would choose me.
And the worst part? He probably already knows I’ve been holding it all in. That he’s always had this quiet power over me. And maybe that’s why it hurts so damn much.
I can’t stay. I can’t breathe in this house without feeling the weight of every thought I’m trying to ignore.
I throw on a black jacket, but leave the thin white tank top and silk shorts I slept in underneath. I’m not planning to be gone long—I just need air, space, a place where I don’t have to think about him, that girl, and the crushing mix of hope and betrayal lodged in my chest.
“Hank, downstairs,” I whisper.
He’s out of my room in seconds, ears up, eyes bright, tail stiff but wagging, his leash dangling from his mouth. He always knows exactly what I’m asking.
I don’t bother with the hall. I slide open my balcony door and step onto the ledge. My bare feet find the slick stone, cold and damp, coated with dew.
The morning is grey. Fog curling low around the tops of the hedges, blurring everything into a smooth, wet haze. It smells of damp earth, of stone, of something faintly metallic from the air.
I crouch low, my toes gripping the ledge, and jump. Shock vibrates up my legs, cold and alive. I straighten and shake it out, adrenaline flooding through me.
I run toward the entrance of the pool deck, Hank waiting, and slide open the door. Goosebumps scatter over my legs, either from the cold or from the fear that I’ll get in shit for walking around without Elijah.
Thankfully, it’s early, and James must still be sleeping since the room is empty.
I take this as my chance, leading Hank out the back entrance, slipping on an old pair of runners, and heading toward the fencing behind the manor.
My usual running spots are along the property line, so I feel safe enough with just the sound of my shoes on stone beneath my feet.
But then Hank’s tail flicks with purpose, his body taut.
He smells something I don’t.
“Good boy,” I reassure him, tugging the leash and guide him away from whatever he’s sensing and towards the back trails.
I know better than to continue in the direction that’s riling up my guard dog.
Every step I take feels defiant. A little rebellion against everything that’s tangled inside me.
I reach the gate that opens onto the pathway, wanting to put complete distance between us. It’s just outside the estate, so I shouldn’t be in any real danger here either.
Fog swirls around us, pressing close, and I take a breath, inhaling cold into my lungs, feeling my first taste of freedom.
Then I see it—the SUV. Dark, low, half-hidden in the mist. Hank growls, low and chest-deep, vibrating through the leash, up my arm, into my ribs. I freeze; my pulse hammers. “Easy,” I whisper, but my gut clenches anyway.
Two men step through the grey.
The first is massive, with shoulders made of stone pillars and an expression carved from shadow. The second is wiry and quick, a knife spinning in his hand, catching the pale light.
Hank lunges before I can stop him. Teeth bared, growl erupting into a feral roar. My heart jumps into my throat.
The wiry man reacts instantly. His knife arcs, skimming across Hank’s shoulder, shaving off a strip of fur. Blood blooms. Hank yelps but clenches harder, clamping down on the man’s wrist, causing his knife to clatter against concrete.
I turn to run back to the house. Back to safety.
But before I can take three steps, an arm hooks around my waist.
Leather presses against my mouth and I bite down hard, tasting blood.
The man grunts something in Russian.
My instincts flare—I drive my elbow into his ribs and kick backward into his shin. A second of freedom, fleeting but fierce. My nails rake his skin, leaving angry, red streaks.
The wiry one is already on me when I take my next breath. His hand locks around my arm, steel biting cold against my skin. A needle slides under it, and my body stiffens instantly. Limbs heavy. Power slipping.
“No—” I gasp, a sound ripped from my chest.
The burn spreads fast. My muscles refuse to obey. My legs buckle.
Hank is still fighting. Teeth locked on the man’s arm. Blood spills across stone. He yelps again, desperate, furious, unrelenting, he thinks sheer will can hold them off.
My head lolls. Vision narrows. Chest tightens, every breath shallow. I hear Hank yelp once more—high and cut off too quickly.
Then darkness takes me.