Chapter 17 #2
I let it dangle from my fingers, the chain catching sunlight as it twisted slightly in the air. There was something about the way she gave it to me. Not forced. Not panicked. Just… sad. Like she knew something I didn’t.
“I don’t like this,” Kellan muttered, cutting the silence.
I looked at him. “What part? The jet? The mafia? Or the fact that we have to breathe the same air as Rafael for the next few hours?”
He didn’t smile. “I don’t like not knowing what’s waiting for us when we land.”
“You never do,” I said quietly.
Ash turned around halfway in his seat for a second. “You could still back out, Isa. Say the word, and we’ll turn the car around. I’ll even lie to Romanov for you.”
I laughed, but it came out dry. “You think he’d believe you over me?”
They both went quiet. That said enough.
I sighed, eyes drifting to the front windshield again. The road was smoother here, wider. I sat up straighter, pulse ticking up. And then I saw it. The jet.
It looked like a knife in the distance, sleek and silver and still, the sunlight glinting off the nose like a warning. But that wasn’t what made my stomach twist.
It was him. Rafael.
Standing beside the stairs to the jet, hands in the pockets of his suit pants, sunglasses covering the eyes I knew were watching. Nikolai and Yuri flanked him like shadows. I didn’t need to see their faces to know the exact curve of Nikolai’s smirk or the lazy amusement on Yuri’s lips.
The car slowed as we approached, and I felt it again—that cold, unfamiliar ripple up my spine. Something was shifting. Something inevitable.
I didn’t know what waited for me in Naples. But Rafael Romanov was the only certainty I had left.
The city was alive beneath me.
Naples glittered like it had secrets buried under every rooftop, every cobblestone street pulsing with a kind of dangerous charm I couldn’t quite look away from.
The wind rolled in off the coast, cool and fragrant, lifting the hem of my shirt and sweeping across my skin like a whisper I couldn’t understand.
I leaned against the stone railing of the balcony, arms crossed, the pendant Anna gave me clenched between my fingers.
I didn’t know why I brought it out here. Maybe because the moment felt still enough to matter. Maybe because I didn’t want to admit that something about this place was already pressing too close. Like the city itself knew who I was before I did.
The pendant shifted in my grip, cool and solid. I traced my thumb over the grooves. I never asked Anna where it came from. I should’ve. But the way she handed it to me… it felt like one of those things you weren’t supposed to question.
Just take it, tesoro. It’s always protected those who belong to it.
Belong. The word had settled in my chest like a bruise that hadn’t surfaced yet.
I looked down at the streets, the cars, the lights, the elegance soaked in centuries of blood and legacy. I had no idea where I belonged. But something told me this place had answers, whether I wanted them or not.
The top floor of the hotel was quiet behind me.
Too quiet. The kind of quiet that meant the others were giving me space.
Or watching me from the shadows and pretending they weren’t.
Kellan and Ash had taken one of the suites further down the hall.
Yuri and Nikolai had gone somewhere I didn’t care to ask about.
And Rafael— I exhaled sharply, tightening my grip on the charm.
He hadn’t said much after we landed. Just a glance, a nod, the subtle brush of his hand at the small of my back when we exited the car. Like a warning. Like a claim.
He hadn’t touched me since. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or annoyed.
Tomorrow was the gathering. Another arena I didn’t belong in. Another stage where I was nothing more than a pawn dressed up in a black dress and a carefully crafted expression. I was walking into a den of wolves, and the worst part? I wasn’t sure if I was a threat or a sacrifice.
A flicker of movement behind me made me tense—barely there, but I felt it before I heard anything. The brush of presence. That quiet gravity I could recognize even in my sleep.
I didn’t turn around. I didn’t have to.
The scent of him hit first—dark spice and smoke, like the city itself wrapped in sin and steel.
Rafael.
I stared out at Naples, pretending I didn’t feel my pulse trip in my throat. And then, slowly, I heard it—his footsteps. Controlled. Heavy. A phantom brushing closer, dragging shadows with him like a cloak.
I didn’t move. I just gripped the pendant harder. And waited.
I didn’t have to look to know he was close now.
His presence curled around me like smoke, heavier with each step until the silence cracked and he was there—standing just beside me, his forearms resting on the railing, eyes fixed on the horizon like he wasn’t watching me at all.
Like he didn’t feel the storm still in my chest.
I swallowed and stared straight ahead. The pendant sat heavy in my palm, warmed by my skin. I should’ve slipped it back under my shirt, but I didn’t. I didn’t know why.
Maybe I wanted it to anchor me. Maybe I was too tired to hide anything tonight.
“You don’t sleep much,” Rafael said, his voice low, dragging over the silence like velvet and ash.
I let out a soft huff. “Neither do you.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance at me. “You’ve noticed?”
“You don’t exactly make it hard,” I murmured, brushing my thumb over the pendant. “You walk like a ghost and look like a nightmare. Kind of hard to miss.”
A short laugh escaped him—quiet, but real. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I shrugged. “Take it however you want.”
The silence fell again, but it didn’t feel empty this time. It felt… full. Of things we weren’t saying. Of things we both knew didn’t have names yet.
“You ever been to Italy before?” he asked, voice more casual now, like he was trying to sound like this was just another conversation. Like we were normal.
“No.” I tilted my head back, watching the stars peeking through the velvet sky. “But my mom used to tell me stories.”
“About Naples?”
“About everything.” I turned to face him slightly, my hair brushing against my cheek with the breeze. “She was Italian. Born in Milan, but she always said the South had more soul.”
He didn’t respond right away. Then, “She wasn’t wrong.”
I smiled, small and sad. “She used to say the air here tasted like wine and heartbreak. I didn’t understand what that meant when I was younger.”
“And now?”
“I think I do.” My voice was quiet. “Some things are beautiful because they’re broken.”
He looked at me then—really looked. And I hated how my breath caught.
“What about your parents?” he asked, softer now. “How did they meet?”
I didn’t answer right away. Not because I didn’t remember. But because it hurt.
“They met at a bookstore,” I said finally, the memory surfacing like a slow tide. “My mom used to go there after her university classes. My dad worked weekends there to pay for his.”
Rafael watched me with something unreadable in his eyes.
“She said he recommended her a book she hated,” I continued. “But she kept coming back. Every Friday. Pretending to look for something new. He’d always find her a book, and she’d always complain about it the next week.”
I smiled faintly. “And then one day, he recommended a poetry collection. She never told me which one. She just said it was the first one she didn’t return.”
“You remember them well,” Rafael said.
I nodded, my chest tightening. “I try to.”
He didn’t ask anything else. He didn’t push. He just stayed there, beside me, looking out at the city like he could see the pieces of the past scattered between the rooftops and church towers.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone in it.
The silence returned—thick and stretching—but it didn’t press down the way it used to. It just… lingered. A quiet hum beneath the night, broken only by the sound of the wind brushing against the railing and the faint city sounds below.
I let the pendant swing slightly between my fingers, catching the moonlight. The chain glinted, delicate and old, and I twisted it once, then again.
The weight of Rafael’s gaze tugged at me before he even spoke. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward my hand. His voice wasn’t demanding—it was calm. Curious. But sharp beneath it all. Always sharp.
I glanced down at the charm resting in my palm. “This?” I asked, fingers curling around it. “Just a pendant. Anna gave it to me the day we left.”
He turned to face me more, his expression unreadable in the dark. “Anna? The woman you were talking to that night?”
I nodded slowly. “She couldn’t sleep. Called me. Said she had a feeling.”
Rafael’s eyes dropped back to the pendant. “What kind of feeling?”
I shook my head. “She just said she thought I might need some luck.”
He stepped closer, gaze narrowing slightly as he studied the pendant. It was old. Ornate. A small silver medallion with a swirling pattern etched into the surface and a deep red stone pressed into the center like a drop of blood that refused to fade. Something about it made the air shift.
“You said Anna gave it to you,” he repeated.
“Yeah,” I murmured, brows pulling together. “She called it a lucky charm . Said it belonged to someone who meant a lot to her once.”
His jaw ticked just slightly. Barely there—but I caught it. “Do you know who?”
I looked down at the pendant. “She never said. And I didn’t ask. It just felt… kind of personal, I guess.”
He was still staring at it. Still not blinking.
“Do you recognize it?” I asked, voice soft.
He shook his head once, but not with certainty. “No. Just… familiar. Like I’ve seen something like it before.”
I studied him, searching his face. “Maybe it’s common. Maybe it’s nothing.”
“Maybe,” he said, but his voice didn’t match the word. There was something unsettled about the way he looked at it. Not alarmed. Just… thoughtful. Like some part of him was digging through memories he couldn’t reach.