Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
BASTION
The cigarette wasn’t lit. It hadn’t moved in twenty minutes. Just rolled slow between my fingers, the filter soft, paper smudged where I kept turning it.
I didn’t have the energy to stand, let alone strike a lighter. My whole body was lead. The last twenty-four hours had gutted me.
I’d lost my twin. Nine hours of silence, not knowing if he was dead or bleeding out somewhere I couldn’t reach.
I’d cleaned a massacre in three locations.
Faced Damius. Publicly stated at Dynasty level we were responsible for executing three heirs.
Retaliation for that will come when we least expect it. In ways we can’t predict.
And her.
We lost her too.
I begged. I dropped to my knees like a man praying at a grave, begging her not to shut down, not to turn away. And somehow—somehow—she stayed the night.
Now it was morning. And I was waiting to see if that meant anything.
The bedroom door opened .
I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My hand stilled on the cigarette, my eyes stuck on the floor. But I felt her. Every step, soft against the hardwood, every shift of weight that made my chest ache like I’d been stabbed.
She was out here. Awake. Which meant whatever came next could break us for good.
I forced myself to look up.
Emilia stood in the hall, her hair loose, tired, eyes swollen from too many tears. She looked at me first, then at Luca.
He was worse than me.
Bruised. Wrapped ribs. Eyes bloodshot. He hadn’t spoken much since last night. He didn’t need to. His silence told me enough.
We sat like men waiting for a sentence. And she was the judge.
“Morning, baby.”
The words scraped out of me before I thought better. They didn’t even sound like mine. My throat was raw, broken from crying more in one night than I had in my entire life. Not even when we were kids or when they buried our mother.
Her gaze flicked between us. I begged her in my head— let us be enough.
She stood straighter. “So the plan is just to keep killing men who have the misfortune of being betrothed to me?”
The question cut like glass.
“I told you two a long time ago this ends with us all with other people.”
My thumb rolled the cigarette again. “Is that what you want?” My voice was low, rough. “Don’t give me the answer you gave years ago. Tell us the truth, Emilia. Do you want us, or not?”
Her jaw tightened. “That’s not fair, Bastion. I told you my answer four years ago—before you walked out of my life. ”
“Then remind us,” I said. My voice cracked and I had to steady it with a breath. “Because all I hear is silence. Yes or no, baby. Are we enough for you? Fuck the rules. We’ll break them to fit us. But we don’t break you. So do you want this? Us?”
Her lips parted, then closed. She squeezed her eyes shut like the weight of it hurt. When she opened them again.
“You two are the only choice I’ve ever let myself have,” she whispered. “I’ll always choose you two.”
My chest hitched. Relief, pain, both at once.
But then her mouth twisted. “Loving you is the only thing I’ve ever let myself have. And it hurts. It really hurts knowing someone else can just take it.”
The cigarette slipped from my fingers onto the table. I didn’t care. Tears burned hot at the corners of my eyes. I opened my arms without thinking. “Come here.”
She walked to me slow, then dropped onto my lap like she was surrendering. My arms closed around her instantly, holding her tight.
Her cheek pressed to my shoulder, her body small against mine. I looked up—and Luca’s eyes met mine.
All our pain bled through in that one look. His hands were flexing against his knees, restless, desperate to reach her too but afraid to move. For once in our lives, Luca wasn’t capable of words. His silence screamed louder than anything.
I kissed her hairline, breathing her in. “You just love us, baby,” I whispered. “That’s all you have to do. We’ll handle everything else.”
Her voice was muffled against my neck. “That’s too easy.”
My throat clenched. I kissed the side of her temple, softer this time.
“It’s not easy. It’s killing me. Every second without you, every night we didn’t have you—it gutted me.
But loving us, that’s the part that’s always been simple.
You don’t carry the rest. That’s on us. We’ll bleed for it.
We’ll bury for it. All you have to do is stay. ”
Her body shivered in my arms.
Luca finally spoke, standing and walking towards us.
“He’s right. You don’t need to have a plan. That’s us. You just breathe. You just love us. We’ll take the city, the dynasty, your brother—we’ll take all of it.”
Her head lifted slightly, her eyes glassy. “Then tell me… what about her ?”
Luca stilled beside me. “Her?” he repeated, careful, buying time.
“The notifications,” she said. “From her security. Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen them. Who was she?”
My chest tightened. She thought it was another woman. Of course she did. That was the only explanation she could reach without seeing the truth.
“Cecilia’s team,” I said flatly. “She’s reckless, she needs watching.”
Emilia’s frown deepened.
I lied. They were all notifications about her. Every ping, every log, every guard who thought they were hired by a dynasty contract—ours. But I wasn’t about to tell her that, yet.
“And the thread to the driver—the one making sure the car was warm before she got in?”
Luca brushed her hair back. “Sofia. She hates the cold.”
Her mouth pressed into a line.
“And the clothes?” she asked, voice breaking. “The racks of dresses, shoes. Who do those belong to?”
We couldn’t lie about that one. Those clothes were from the designers, for her.
“Yours,” I moved my hand down her back. “We wanted you to have clothes here. That’s all. ”
Her breath hitched. A small, broken laugh slipped out. “God, I’m stupid.”
“No.” Luca moved closer, turning her gently on my lap so she faced him. His hand framed her cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears. “You’re not stupid. You thought it because we didn’t tell you. That’s on us. Not you.”
He kissed her cheek once, desperate. “Sorry, baby. That’s on us.”
I pressed my mouth to her hair, holding her tighter. One day we would tell her. That we’d never let go, not even in silence. That every choice, every detail, every comfort in her life had been ours to decide.