Chapter Thirteen SANTINO
The crack of bone against bone echoed through the private gym. Matteo hit the mat hard enough to rattle the entire ring. Sweat darkened his black T-shirt. Blood gleamed on his split lip. He grunted, rolled onto one knee, and pushed himself upright.
Good. Most men quit when things hurt. Most men folded the second life stopped being fair. The kid kept getting up. That meant something.
I leaned back against the ropes and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
"Again," I ordered.
Matteo looked like he wanted to kill me. A promising sign.
"You know," he said, breathing hard, "normal people usually start conversations before they try to rearrange someone's face."
I snorted. "Normal people don't survive in our world."
"Comforting,” he muttered.
"Not my job to comfort you,” I added.
The gym occupied the entire top floor of one of my private properties.
Concrete walls. Black steel beams. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach.
The scent of sweat, leather, and gun oil lingered permanently in the air.
The heavy bags swayed lazily from earlier use.
Outside, rain crawled down the glass in silver streaks.
The city beneath us looked sharp and dangerous. Just the way I liked it.
Matteo lunged. Anger telegraphed every movement. Predictable. I stepped aside. His momentum carried him forward. I hooked his ankle. He crashed into the mat again.
"Motherfu-"
"Language," I said.
He stared at me. "You literally execute people."
"That doesn't mean you should swear." I smirked. “Your sister wouldn’t like it.”
The kid blinked. Then barked out a laugh despite himself. A familiar laugh answered from the doorway. My entire body locked. Not visibly. Nobody would notice. Nobody except me.
Aurora stood in the entrance. And now the gym felt too small.
Jesus Christ. The woman was becoming a problem.
Dark hair spilled over one shoulder. A fitted cream sweater slipped off one collarbone.
Black leggings hugged long legs. No makeup.
No diamonds. No effort. And somehow she still looked more dangerous than every weapon in the room.
Rain-soaked light softened the edges of her face. Made her look younger. Sweeter. Which was funny. Because sweetness had absolutely nothing to do with Aurora Ventura. That girl could start a war with a single sentence.
"You're smiling," she announced.
My eyes narrowed. "I wasn't."
"Oh, he definitely was,” Matteo said.
Traitor. I looked at him. Slowly. The little bastard had the decency to look nervous. "You're both imagining things."
Aurora folded her arms. "You're smiling right now."
I stopped. She laughed. God. That sound. The laugh hit somewhere beneath my ribs. A place I didn't let people touch. A place that had been dead for four years. I hated that she could reach it without even trying.
Matteo glanced between us. Then visibly decided he valued his life.
"Well," he said, backing toward the door, "I should probably leave."
Aurora pointed. "Oh no."
"Yep,” he said, eager to get out.
"You were training,” she reminded him.
"Not anymore."
"Santino was helping you,” she added.
"He was assaulting me,” her little brother corrected.
I nodded. "Fair."
"See?" Matteo said. Aurora rolled her eyes. The kid practically sprinted out of the room. Coward.
The door clicked shut behind him. Silence settled.
Not uncomfortable. Worse. The kind that felt aware.
Rain tapped softly against the windows. Thunder rolled somewhere distant.
Aurora walked farther inside. Her sneakers squeaked faintly against the polished concrete.
I watched every step. Every movement. Every shift of expression.
Like a starving man staring at his next meal.
"What?" she asked.
My gaze dragged slowly back to her face. "Nothing."
"Liar,” she muttered.
"Little troublemaker…” My tone carried a warning. Her eyes narrowed. My favorite look. I pushed away from the ropes and grabbed a towel.
Sweat cooled on my skin. The cotton dragged across my neck. Aurora's gaze flickered downward. Then back up. A flush touched her cheeks. Victory.
A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. I stared.
Too long. Long enough to become aware of it.
Long enough that she became aware of it too.
The smile faded. Something shifted. The air changed.
The city disappeared. The rain disappeared.
There was only her. Only us. And that should have been a problem.
Instead, it felt like peace. The most dangerous kind.
Aurora shifted her weight onto one hip. The movement drew my attention.
Not because it was seductive. Because everything she did caught my attention now.
The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous.
The way her nose wrinkled when she thought somebody was being stupid.
The way she crossed her arms whenever she wanted to argue. Which was often. Far too often.
"You've been staring at me for like thirty seconds," she informed me.
"I’m going to stare a little longer."
Her cheeks turned pink. "You're impossible."
"So I've been told,” I muttered, wiping my brow with the towel.
"Repeatedly, I hope,” she hissed.
I smirked, tossing the towel away. Rain continued sliding down the windows behind her.
The city beyond the glass glowed silver and gold beneath the storm clouds.
Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance.
The gym felt strangely isolated from the rest of the world. Just concrete. Steel. Rain. And Aurora.
Her gaze drifted past me. Toward the watch on my wrist. The smile faded slightly.
Not sad. Thoughtful. She'd seen it before, of course. But we hadn’t talked about it since the club.
The night everything started. The night she somehow looked straight through me.
Most people saw the mask. Aurora had found the cracks underneath it. Dangerous girl.
"You still wear it every day,” she said. It wasn't a question. I glanced down at the silver watch.
The metal was scratched in places. Worn. Loved. The only thing I'd taken from his body that night. My thumb brushed the edge of the face automatically. A habit I'd never managed to break.
"Of course."
Silence settled between us. Gentler this time. Aurora stepped closer. The scent of apples drifted toward me. Warm, crispy and sweet. Completely at odds with the storm outside.
"Think you’ll ever take it off?" she asked softly.
I laughed once. The sound came out rough. "Take it off?"
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…” Her expression softened. I hated when she looked at me like that. Like she could see the wounds beneath my skin.
"Angelo was my twin,” I reminded her.
She nodded. "I know."
"You don't." The words came out harsher than I intended. Her eyes didn't leave mine. Most people looked away when I snapped. Aurora never did.
"I know I don't understand," she corrected quietly. "But I can still ask."
Christ. That was the problem. She never pushed. Never demanded. She just stood there and waited. Giving me the choice. Nobody in my world gave choices. I looked away first. Toward the rain. Toward the city. Toward anywhere except those damn eyes.
"He wouldn’t want me to take it off." The confession surprised even me. Aurora stayed silent. Listening. No interruptions. No pity. No bullshit. "Did I tell you we used to switch places in school?"
A small smile touched her lips. "Seriously?"
"Frequently."
"Your poor teachers,” she giggled.
"They never figured it out," I said.
A laugh escaped her. I found myself smiling. Again. Jesus Christ. I talked for several minutes. About Angelo. About motorcycles. About fights. About stupid things we'd done when we were younger. And somehow it didn't feel like being skinned alive.
It hurt. But less. A little less.
Aurora sat down on the edge of the ring. Listening. Watching. Being entirely too understanding. The woman was becoming a serious problem.
When I finally stopped talking, she looked thoughtful. Dangerous. That expression always meant trouble.
"What?" I demanded.
She tilted her head. "Did you ever want children, Santino?"
The question hit harder than expected. Silence filled the room. Rain tapped against the windows. A heavy punching bag swayed lazily nearby. Somewhere below us, the city continued moving. Cars. People. Lives. None of it mattered.
I looked at Aurora. Then looked away.
"No." The answer came fast. Honest. Simple. True.
Aurora blinked. Clearly surprised. "Really?"
I shook my head. "Never."
Because children meant attachments. Weakness. Loss. I'd spent most of my life convinced the universe enjoyed taking things from me. Why would I hand it another target?
Aurora looked thoughtful. Almost relieved. Then I continued.
"Until you."
Silence. Absolute silence. Her eyes widened. I kept my expression neutral. Matter-of-fact. Because I wasn't trying to be romantic. I wasn't. I was simply telling the truth. And the truth was usually worse.
Aurora stared. "Santino..."
I shrugged. "The idea never appealed to me."
Her cheeks were turning pink again. I enjoyed that entirely too much. "But now?"
I leaned back against the ropes. Watching her carefully. "Now I think about it."
"A lot?" she whispered.
"A concerning amount." Aurora made a strangled noise at my words. I continued before she could recover. "The idea of seeing a little girl with your eyes running around my house."
Her lips parted. "The attitude would be horrifying."
"The temper would be catastrophic,” I added. "The poor teachers.”
She covered her face with both hands. I laughed. Actually laughed. The sound echoed through the gym. "So… You've thought about this."
"Obviously,” I muttered.