Chapter 30
Domenico
I stand alone on one of the quiet balconies overlooking Elysian Haven early the next morning, my forearms resting against the cool stone railing as the first light of dawn stretches across the sea.
The island is almost unnaturally peaceful after yesterday's celebration. The music has faded, the laughter has disappeared, and the estate that had been overflowing with guests now sleeps beneath a blanket of silence.
The ocean below rolls lazily against the cliffs, each wave breaking with a gentle rhythm that carries through the morning air. A few seabirds circle overhead before disappearing toward the horizon, their cries swallowed by the wind.
It is the kind of morning that should feel calming. Instead, my mind is occupied by unfinished business.
I cross to the telephone on the desk and pick up the receiver, dialing a number I know by memory. It rings only once before the call connects. Neither of us speaks immediately. Silence is normal between us. We have never been men who waste words.
Finally, I break it. "Did you get what you needed?"
He doesn't answer straight away. I hear the faint rustle of papers on his end, followed by the quiet strike of a lighter.
"I did." His voice is as composed as ever. "Everything went according to plan."
I remain silent, waiting for him to continue.
"The information recovered from the Keegan's estate was more valuable than we anticipated. Several names the Keegans would very much prefer remain buried."
He pauses briefly. "It won't be long before they begin to feel the pressure."
"And?"
"The balance of power has already started shifting."
I watch another wave crash against the rocks below. "The Keegans won't surrender easily."
"I know." His confidence doesn't surprise me.
Stefano has always been five moves ahead of everyone else. Unfortunately, that includes me. There's one part of this operation I still haven't forgiven him for.
"You should have told me." The words leave my mouth softer than I intend, carried away by the ocean breeze between us.
Stefano doesn't ask what I mean. He already knows.
"You were planning to work with the 'Ndrangheta." I let the name linger for a moment before meeting the horizon again. "You know I have a history with them."
Silence hums through the line. When he finally speaks, there's a quiet resignation in his voice.
"It wasn't part of the original plan. It only became necessary at the last minute."
I lean against the balcony railing, my grip tightening around the receiver. "You still should've told me."
"I couldn't."
A humorless laugh escapes me. "You found a way to move weapons onto the island and coordinate with one of the most powerful criminal organizations in Europe, but you couldn't find a way to warn me?"
"It wasn't about finding a way." His voice remains calm.
"By the time they accepted the contract, you were already inside Fergus's estate.
Every communication channel connected to you was compromised.
One intercepted message would've exposed your cover, alerted the Keegans, and undone months of planning. "
I close my eyes. I hate that part of me understands.
"No one else was willing to challenge the Keegan family." He continues. "The 'Ndrangheta was."
"They're unpredictable."
"So are you."
A quiet sigh leaves me as I rub my temple. "I've spent enough time around them to know exactly how dangerous they are."
"I know." He says. "I also knew you'd adapt."
His confidence doesn't reassure me nearly as much as he seems to think it should.
"Next time," I say after a long pause, "don't put me in that position again."
"I'll do everything I can to make sure you aren't." It's not quite a promise but it's the closest I'm going to get.
The tension between us gradually fades, allowing the conversation to drift toward quieter matters.
"And you?" He asks.
I glance over the gardens below, untouched by the morning rush. "I don't sleep much."
After a brief pause, I ask the question that's been lingering in the back of my mind. "How's Roisin?"
A short silence follows on the other end of the line.
"Interesting." Stefano says eventually. "I don't remember mentioning that she was with us."
"You didn't. I assumed you wouldn't leave her there."
"She's safe." He says finally. "That's all I can tell you."
Relief settles quietly in my chest before I can stop it. It's enough. More than enough.
"Good." I murmur, my gaze drifting back toward the ocean. "I would've been disappointed if we'd failed."
A quiet hum comes through the line, making it clear he doesn't believe me. The silence that follows is comfortable, but it doesn't last.
"And Zora?" Her name hangs between us with far more weight than I care to acknowledge.
My eyes drift back to the endless ocean as Stefano continues, "How is your plan progressing?"
I let out a slow breath. "It's... complicated."
"I suspected as much. Have you changed your mind about killing her?"
My fingers tighten around the phone. "No."
The answer comes easily. The one that follows doesn't.
"But… it's complicated."
Stefano says nothing. He never wastes words when silence can tell him everything he needs to know.
I've known him long enough to recognize that he listens differently from everyone else. Most people pay attention to what is said. Stefano has always paid closer attention to what is deliberately left unsaid.
When he finally speaks, his voice is as calm as ever. "I've never heard you describe a mission as complicated."
My gaze remains fixed on the horizon. "Marcus Krogen still murdered my father." I say quietly. "Nothing about that has changed."
"No." Stefano agrees. "It hasn't. But revenge has a way of changing the people who carry it."
The words settle heavily between us.
"I've watched men devote their lives to a single purpose." He continues. "Some reach the end only to discover they no longer recognize themselves. Others convince themselves nothing has changed, even after something else begins demanding their attention."
I close my eyes before inhaling deep. "That isn't what's happening."
"Isn't it?" His question isn't confrontational. It's almost gentle.
"You've spent weeks beside Marcus's daughter, and for the first time since I've known you, you're questioning a mission instead of executing it."
"I haven't questioned it."
"Haven't you?"
The corner of my jaw tightens.
"You called to ask about Roisin. You told me Zora is complicated. Neither of those things sounds like the Domenico I've known all these years."
I don't answer. Because I don't know if he's wrong.
Stefano sighs softly. "I know the difference between conviction and repetition, Domenico."
The words land harder than they should.
"If Zora were Marcus's son instead of his daughter... would we still be having this conversation?"
The answer should come without hesitation.
Instead, my mind betrays me, pulling me back to the island, the cave, the way she refused to break no matter what was thrown at her, the quiet intimacy we shared in her room, the sound of her laughter, and the warmth of her hand slipping into mine beneath the table.
I close my eyes, willing the memories away. None of them should matter. Yet somehow, despite everything I've told myself, they do.
"I know what I'm doing." I say at last.
"I hope you do." There is no disappointment in Stefano's voice. Only concern. "We've sacrificed too much to lose sight of why this began."
I don't need him to remind me. Marcus murdered my father. That truth has guided every decision I've made for months.
"It hasn't changed." I tell him.
Whether I'm trying to convince Stefano or myself, I'm no longer certain. Before the silence can stretch any further, I end the call.
For a long moment, I remain on the balcony with the receiver still in my hand, staring out across the ocean. His words refuse to leave me, no matter how many times I remind myself why I came into Zora's life in the first place.
Eventually, I force the doubts back behind the walls where they belong, set the receiver down, and return inside.
Zora is already waiting outside. She glances up as I step into the corridor, and something in her expression softens.
"There you are." She says. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd decided to stay."
"I was tempted."
She laughs, shaking her head. "Come on. Let's say our goodbyes."
Most of the guests are waiting in the main hall. The farewells are brief but sincere before we make our way toward the waiting jet. Zora falls into step beside me, talking quietly about the flight back to Manhattan, but I barely register the words.
Instead, I find myself watching her. The realization settles over me with disturbing ease. She matters far more than she ever should. But I force the thought aside before it can take root. I refuse to let myself forget why I came into her life in the first place.