Chapter Nineteen SANTINO #2
Aurora sat on the curved stone bench near the fountain, legs tucked beneath her, a book open in her lap. The last rays of sunlight caught in her dark hair, turning it into strands of liquid obsidian. She looked heartbreakingly beautiful, vulnerable, soft, mine.
A single breeze stirred the pages of her book and teased a loose strand across her cheek.
A shadow detached from behind the tall hedge line. Black tactical gear. Silenced pistol already rising, barrel aimed directly at her chest.
I roared her name, the sound ripping from my throat like a beast unleashed and sprinted.
Her head snapped up. Her eyes widened in pure terror as the intruder stepped fully into view, gun steady.
Time fractured.
I was too far. Twenty yards of perfect killing ground between me and the man who dared point a weapon at what was mine.
Then Matteo appeared like a miracle born of fire and training. He launched himself from the side path where he’d been idly throwing a ball against the garden wall, shoulder driving low and hard into the intruder’s ribs with everything I’d drilled into him.
The gun went off. The silenced shot whispered past Aurora, shattering a stone urn in a spray of marble dust and rose petals.
Chaos erupted.
The intruder was good. Highly trained, lethal. He absorbed Matteo’s tackle, rolled with it, and drove a vicious elbow into the kid’s face.
Blood sprayed across the roses. Matteo grunted in pain but held on like a fucking pit bull, refusing to let go, grappling desperately to keep the gun arm pinned.
I closed the distance in seconds that felt like lifetimes, heart pounding with raw, primal terror.
No hesitation.
The second I had a clean line, I put two rounds center-mass into the intruder’s head. The man dropped like a sack of meat, lifeless eyes staring at nothing as blood pooled across the stone path, staining the white roses crimson.
Silence crashed over the garden, broken only by ragged breathing and the distant roar of waves against the cliffs.
Aurora was on her feet, one hand pressed to her mouth, eyes wide with shock. She was unharmed. Not a scratch. But the terror in her gaze cut deeper than any blade ever could. She looked at the body, then at me, then at her brother bleeding on the ground.
Matteo pushed himself up slowly, blood dripping steadily from his split lip onto the stone path. He stared at the dead man, chest heaving, knuckles raw.
I hauled him to his feet roughly but carefully, my hands checking for serious wounds even as my own heart thundered with residual rage and relief. “You good, kid?”
He nodded, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah. Saw him moving weird behind the hedge. Something was off. The way he held himself. Trained. I just… reacted.”
I gripped the back of his neck, forehead nearly touching his, my voice raw and stripped of every mask I usually wore. Pride and something deeper like gratitude and brotherhood swelled in my chest until it hurt.
“You saved her life, Matteo. Without hesitation. You protected what matters most to me in this world.”
He swallowed hard, eyes glassy with emotion. “I just did what you taught me.”
I looked over at Aurora. She was shaking, arms wrapped around herself, eyes locked on me with a mixture of fear, gratitude, and something deeper.
The realization that she had almost died because she was avoiding me, because I had pushed too hard about the future, the babies, the forever, hit me like a gut punch.
I pulled her against my chest with my free arm, crushing both her and Matteo close for a long, fierce moment.
Her fingers fisted desperately in my shirt like she was afraid the world would rip her away again. I buried my face in her hair, inhaling her scent, crisp apples, vanilla, and the faint salt of fear and tears. My other hand stayed on Matteo’s shoulder, grounding all of us.
Marco and three of my best guards arrived seconds later, weapons drawn, expressions grim. They took in the body, the blood on the roses, and the way I held what mattered most without a word.
“Clean it up,” I ordered, voice like ice. “No trace. Burn the clothes. Double the entire perimeter until I personally say otherwise. If another fly so much as lands on my property without permission, I want its wings clipped and its handler delivered to me alive.”
They moved like shadows. The body was gone within minutes. Blood wiped from stone. The garden returned to its deceptive serenity, though the faint metallic tang lingered in the air.
Once we were alone again, the three of us standing among the roses still stained with violence, I turned fully to Matteo.
Aurora stayed pressed to my side, quiet for once, her hand tight on my shirt. She understood the gravity of what was about to happen.
I unclasped Angelo’s watch from my wrist with deliberate, trembling fingers.
The silver was worn smooth in places, scratched from years of life and loss, the only physical piece I had left of my twin.
My thumb brushed the face one final time, a thousand memories flashing behind my eyes. From shared laughs in the old neighborhood, the shared pain after our mother’s death, to the empty space where my other half should have been. The watch that had been on his wrist the night the snakes took him.
This was harder than pulling the trigger. Harder than any kill I’d ever made. It felt like tearing out a piece of my soul and handing it over.
My throat tightened painfully, the words scraping out like shards of glass.