Chapter 34
Aurelia
FLASHBACK
Six years ago
Shadow boy’s bike roars into the same alley outside of Confine, still wrapped in darkness. For a second, I just sit there, my arms still wrapped tight around his waist, pretending the night isn’t about to end. Pretending I’m not going back to a life where freedom is only ever borrowed.
He pulls my helmet off, fingers brushing against my skin. My hair’s a tangled mess, and I push it out of my face, muttering, “Great. Now I look like I just got finished having sex.”
He smirks, actually enjoying it.
His hand settles at the back of my neck, warmth spreading through my skin, and my stupid sixteen-year-old heart does a flip it has no business doing.
“The boy from the club is nothing, Aurelia,” he says, eyes cutting into mine.
“He’s actually kind of important.” I laugh, not realizing how that sounds.
His jaw ticks. “He didn’t seem important when my tongue was in your mouth.”
A smile curves at my lips. “That’s not how I meant it. It’s just that, if nothing else, I think he’ll always have a place in my heart. Always be my friend.”
He’s looking at me now like I’m one of those people he wants to kill. But I find it oddly endearing that he’s acting jealous after one kiss.
“You have a place in my heart too, you know.” I reach for his hand, feeling his fingers slowly relax beneath mine. “You’re my first kiss, and… I don’t want this to be the last time we’re together,” I whisper.
For a moment, something sparks behind his eyes—like my touch reignites something in him—and then he leans in, pressing his lips to mine.
“You are… exceptional,” he murmurs against my mouth. “And I promise you, we’ll find our way back to each other.”
Exceptional.
No one has ever called me that. Princess, sure. Hidden, locked away, protected, beautiful—yeah, those are my labels. But exceptional? That one feels special. I could almost believe it if I’m not careful.
I open my mouth, about to tell him this is the first time I’ve felt even remotely alive, when the universe decides to ruin my life.
“What in the actual fuck, Ace?”
Elijah’s voice.
I spin so fast my boots scrape concrete, guilt crawling up my throat. It feels like getting caught cheating, which is ridiculous because Elijah isn’t my boyfriend… but he’s also kind of my everything. And suddenly I feel back to myself, not exceptional at all—just small, stupid, and found out.
The boy doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink. Of course he doesn’t, he’s unshakable. Meanwhile, I’m a mess of nerves and hormones, wishing I could vanish into the night air.
I slip out of his hold, stumbling a little on the uneven pavement as I rush toward Elijah. He reaches out instantly, catching me by the arm before I can trip on my own feet.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a shaky laugh. “Just out here ruining my reputation. Normal teenage stuff.”
He’s scanning the street, muscles taut, every inch of him screaming danger. I know enough to recognize when predators circle each other. My chest tightens.
And then, Enzo appears.
Great.
His gun is already raised. He doesn’t even consider another option.
The music from the club booms behind us, neon light painting Enzo’s face in fractured blues and reds as he comes through the door. My stomach knots so hard it hurts. The silence between him and the boy from the shadows is unbearable—they’re both too still, too alert.
“Enzo, no!” My voice breaks out of me too fast, too desperate. “I’m fine, he didn’t do anything. I was just… having fun!”
“Fun?” Enzo repeats, his tone razor-thin. “That’s what you call this?”
I almost want to laugh. “Yes? I don’t know, Enzo, I’m sixteen! I’ve never been to a club, never kissed anyone, never… done anything. And the one night I do, everyone shows up with guns? Kinda ruins the vibe.”
But the joke dies on my lips. Because Enzo isn’t laughing. No one is. They’re locked on each other, and I swear if I breathe too loudly, someone will pull the trigger.
Elijah’s grip tightens around my arm, keeping me right where he wants me. I hate it. I hate how safe it feels even as it cages me.
“Please,” I beg, my voice cracking, my sarcasm gone. “Enzo, don’t. For me. Please.”
For a split second, I see something in his eyes. Doubt. Conflict. Maybe he hears me.
And then—click.
Another gun cocks from the shadows. My blood runs ice-cold. Whoever it is, they’re ready to finish what Enzo started.
“Get in the car, Aurelia,” Enzo orders, flat and final. “Gen is waiting for you there.”
I choke back a sob. “Enzo, no.”
Finally, his gaze cuts to mine. His eyes burn, and I hate that I still see something human in them. Something that looks a little like love. “He’ll be fine,” he lies, steady as stone. “Get in the car.”
Elijah doesn’t hesitate. His hand clamps down harder, dragging me back. I thrash, twisting, but I can’t break free. My eyes dart to him—always shadow, always just out of reach. My chest aches like I’m losing something I never even got to have.
Then the night splits.
BANG.
The gunshot tears through the alley, deafening. My ears ring. My throat locks on a scream.
I desperately fight Elijah’s grip, but he’s already shoving me into the car. The door slams shut, cutting me off from the only boy who ever made me feel like I wasn’t just locked in a cage.
The engine revs. The alley disappears.
And I never saw him clearly. Not once.
* * *
The ride home is too quiet. My head won’t stop spinning—the club, Elijah’s mouth on Gen, Enzo disappearing every five minutes like some phantom, and the gunshot that still rings in my ears.
My hands curl into fists against my dress. I can’t even untangle the night in my head. Every piece cuts, every thought makes me want to scream.
By the time the estate gates swing open, I’m vibrating with it. I shove the car door before it even stops rolling, heels hammering stone, marble, anything that’ll carry the sound of how done I am.
I protest for a moment before joining them in the foyer.
They can all fuck themselves.
Why the hell am I the only one being treated like this?
My eyes flick to my right, seeing Gen and Elijah standing side by side, carved from guilt under the grand double staircase.
Is it guilt? Maybe they don’t even care.
“I hate you.” The words rip out, jagged and loud. “I hate you both. Don’t ever talk to me again. Don’t even look at me.” I storm over to them, my anger moving my feet before I can even process the sight of them.
Gen flinches, but Elijah doesn’t falter. His fingers just tap on his thigh.
“Ace—” Gen starts, shaky but soft, reaching for me. “Please, I thought… You told me you two were just friends. I thought—”
“Oh, shut up.” My laugh comes out sharp, cruel. “That doesn’t even matter anymore. You broke my trust the second you opened your mouth to those guys at the bar.”
Her face pales. “I didn’t—”
“You did.” I cut her off, stepping closer, fury trembling in my chest. “You told them you were with me. With the mafia princess. Ring any bells, Gen? Because it sure as hell rings for me.”
Her lips part like she wants to explain, but nothing comes out.
I throw my hands up. “So what was it, huh? Protection? Leverage? Or just a fun little way to make me your little charity project?”
Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back furiously. I won’t give her the satisfaction. “You think being my friend means using me? Selling me off in whispers? That’s what friendship is to you?”
Gen shakes her head fast. “No, no, I swear, it wasn’t like that. I only said it because—”
“Because you wanted to survive,” I snap. “Because keeping me close means your family stays safe. Don’t even bother denying it.”
Her lips press tight, and the silence answers for her.
Something inside me caves but it’s hollow. “God. And I thought maybe—maybe—having a friend would actually feel different. But it’s just another transaction, isn’t it? Another deal. Another lie.”
I turn from her, chest heaving, every nerve screaming. My voice breaks as I whisper, “I can’t trust anyone. Not one person.”
The silence is broken by Enzo. His shadow stretches across the marble as he steps forward, calm but edged with steel. “If you don’t want her here,” he says evenly, “then I’ll take care of it.”
My fury spikes hotter, my fear sharper. My mouth moves before my brain can catch it.
“I don’t care,” I spit. “Do it. Kill her. I don’t care about her. I don’t care about any of this.”
The second it’s out, my stomach flips. That didn’t even sound like me. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the me I used to be doesn’t exist anymore.
Enzo studies me, eyes too cold, too patient.
And suddenly, I can’t hold it in anymore. “Did you shoot him?”
His head tilts. “What?”
“The guy I was with.” My voice cracks, raw and loud. “Did you shoot him?”
The room goes cold. Elijah shifts just slightly, his hand flexing, jaw clenching, but he says nothing. Gen’s eyes go wide, darting between us, just now realizing I know more than I should.
Enzo doesn’t even blink. “No.”
But after tonight, after every lie and betrayal bleeding together, I don’t know if I believe him.
I bark a laugh, ugly and shaking. “Right. Because honesty is such a family tradition.”
Enzo’s gaze hardens enough to slice me open. “Careful, Ace. Words that harsh make you sound just like him.”
My father.
The breath punches out of me. My nails dig into my arms so hard they might draw blood. “Good!” I burst, my voice trembling. “Maybe then you’ll finally stop treating me like a child.”
Something flickers in his eyes for a moment before he silently steps aside, dismissing me without another word.
I don’t wait for anyone. Not Enzo. Not Elijah. Not Gen.
The door slams behind me, the sound reverberating in my skull.
I collapse onto my bed, heels and all, curling into myself with my knees pressed hard against my chest. The tight black dress digs into my ribs, my boots scuffing the sheets as if I could erase the night by kicking harder. I close my eyes, but it doesn’t help.
The tears finally rip free, hot and violent, and I shake as the words replay in my head: kill her. I don’t care. Did you shoot him?
My voice—but not mine.
“I hate them,” I hiss roughly. “I hate them. I never want to see them again.”
My stomach is trying to escape through my throat. I can still feel it—the way Gen pressed against Elijah, the laugh, the kiss. That stupid, soft press of lips that made my blood boil and my chest ache.
I told him. I told Enzo to kill her. My hands go to my face, pressing against my hot cheeks, trying to stop the panic from spilling out of my mouth in screams or curses.
Who even am I right now? The Aurelia who jokes too much, rolls her eyes, hides behind sarcasm…
or the one who just unleashed a command to murder someone?
Neither of them feels real. “If you don’t want her here… then I’ll take care of it.”
I can’t sit here. I can’t. My boots scrape the floor as I push off the bed, the dress tightening across my hips.
I throw the door open. The halls are unnervingly quiet, the kind of silence that makes your ears ring.
Marble glints under dim sconces, golden trim catching shadow.
The air smells faintly of wax and dust, cool and too clean against my skin.
Heart hammering, I sprint down the hall to the main staircase. Heels click, echoing through the cavernous foyer. I twist through the corridors, calling out, but my voice is absorbed by the estate, bouncing back muffled and meaningless.
Nothing.
Panic presses in. My chest burns, tight and heavy. I need someone—anyone—to tell me I didn’t mess up so badly that there’s no coming back. Someone who saw. Someone who understands. Someone who will stop me from screaming and throwing myself into a wall.
I dart toward the staff building at the far edge of the estate, boots skimming cobblestones slick with moonlight. Shadows stretch long and grasping across the courtyard.
A single window glows a soft yellow, someone is there. Someone who might have seen.
My hand hesitates on the cold metal handle before I push; the door opens with a faint creak, warm air hitting me. It’s coffee, cleaning supplies, and the faint musk of someone who’s been working late. Tables are cluttered with papers and half-empty cups, a small fan whirring lazily in the corner.
Then a chair creaks somewhere in the room.
“Hello?” My voice shakes, thin and high, the kind you use when you’re trying to pretend you aren’t about to vomit. “Did anyone… see them?”
And then—a scream.
High, piercing, a sound that rips through the quiet, and my chest. I press myself flat against the wall, breath hitching, eyes wide.