Chapter 31
Alex
I stepped through the back door, muscles loose from the morning patrol, sweat cooling at my temples.
The kitchen smelled like coffee and toast. Kara leaned against the counter in her usual spot, one ankle crossed over the other, while Ellie stood at the stove flipping something that sizzled.
Cam sat at the table, flipping through a clipboard with one hand, fork in the other.
And there was Sabine.
She hadn't joined us for breakfast in days. Her red hair was pulled back in a messy bun, dark circles under her eyes less pronounced than yesterday. Progress. She glanced up at me, then back down at her coffee.
"Morning," I said, hanging my jacket on the hook by the door.
Kara pushed a mug toward me. "Coffee's fresh."
I poured myself a cup, breathing in the steam. "Thanks."
"Kara was telling us about the time she got stuck in an air duct during an op," Ellie said to me, sliding a plate of eggs toward Sabine.
"I never got stuck," Kara protested. "I was waiting for the target to leave."
"For three hours?" Ellie raised an eyebrow.
"It was a strategic delay."
I laughed, the sound surprising me. When was the last time I'd laughed?
The kitchen felt warm, safe. Sunlight streamed through the windows, catching dust motes in golden beams. Sabine's shoulders had relaxed slightly.
Maybe we had more time than I thought. Maybe we could stay in this bubble a little longer.
The buzz from the command room cut through the moment like a knife.
Sharp. Insistent.
My coffee sloshed over the rim of my mug. Ellie's spatula froze mid-flip. Cam's head snapped up. Sabine's eyes went wide, finding mine across the kitchen.
No one moved. No one breathed.
The buzz came again.
Ellie bolted from the kitchen. The rest of us froze, suspended in that moment of not-yet-knowing. When she returned, her face looked stricken.
"It's Arturo," she said. "At the gate."
My stomach plummeted as if I'd stepped off a cliff. Arturo? Here? My brother wouldn't drive six hours from the city for a social call. Not now. Not after everything.
I forced my voice to remain steady. "Is he alone?"
"He has a driver with him." Ellie's fingers twisted against each other. "I don't recognize him."
Of course he had a driver. Arturo hadn't driven himself anywhere since he expanded the laundering operations into Philly and decided he was smarter than the rest of us. The fact that I could see the logic through my rising panic was almost comforting. Almost.
"He always has a driver," I said, keeping my tone casual while my mind screamed warnings. "Buzz him in."
The words hung in the air between us. Buzz him in. Let my brother onto the property where I was hiding the woman who had exposed our family's darkest secrets. The woman I had helped. The woman I loved—not that anyone needed to know that detail.
This was it. They knew. They had to know. Why else would Arturo come all the way out here without calling first? The Bellantes didn't make social calls, they made examples.
I swallowed hard, feeling the transition happening inside me. Alexandra Vaughn, the ex-military bodyguard who had exposed her own family, was slipping away. In her place stood Domenica Bellante, devoted daughter and baby sister, who would never betray her blood.
I couldn't let him see Alex. Not even for a second. Domenica would have to be flawless.
Kara and Ellie watched me, waiting for instructions. The buzzer sounded again, impatient this time.
"Hide Sabine. NOW," I hissed at Cam, my voice barely above a whisper. "My room, the closet. Tell her not to make a fucking sound."
Cam moved without hesitation, her hand clamping around Sabine's upper arm. I caught the flash of confusion in her eyes as Cam pulled her toward the stairs. Her mouth opened, questions forming, but there was no time.
"Her breakfast dishes," I said to Kara. "Wash them, put them away."
Kara gathered Sabine's half-eaten toast and coffee mug. The faucet ran, water drowning out the sound of footsteps overhead. I watched as five place settings became four, all evidence of Sabine erased.
My fingers found the clasps of my body armor, unfastening them with lightning speed. I slipped it off and tucked it inside the command room, closing the door firmly behind me. The weight lifted from my shoulders, but a heavier one settled in its place.
I caught my reflection in the kitchen window. My hair needed smoothing. I ran my fingers through the long dark strands, arranging them to frame my face the way I used to wear it back home. The woman staring back at me wasn't Alex Vaughn anymore. She was Domenica Bellante. Not a traitor. Not a mole.
Ellie and Kara watched me transform. I felt their eyes tracking each subtle change in my posture, my expression. Neither spoke.
Tires crunched on gravel outside. The distinctive purr of a Rolls-Royce engine, then silence as it cut off. Arturo’s gunmetal grey Spectre was his pride and joy. A car door opened, then closed with a soft thud. The driver remained behind the wheel.
Footsteps on the porch. Heavy, deliberate. My second oldest brother never rushed.
I moved to the front door, feeling Kara and Ellie position themselves just out of sight. My fingers wrapped around the knob, cool metal against suddenly warm skin. I drew in a breath that filled my lungs completely, held it for three seconds, then released it slowly.
I opened the door.
"Arturo!" I exclaimed, injecting warmth and surprise into my voice while my heart hammered against my ribs.
He smiled, arms opening wide. I went to him without hesitation, the muscle memory of being his baby sister taking over.
His embrace felt solid, familiar. At thirty-eight, he still kept himself fit, his expensive tailored suit unable to hide the strength beneath.
The scent of cigars and cologne—that signature Clive Christian that Nadine bought him every Christmas—wrapped around me.
"Baby sister," he murmured against my hair. "You look lovely today."
I pulled back, gesturing toward the living room. "Coffee?"
"Please."
In the kitchen, I poured two cups, willing my hands not to shake. The ceramic clinked against the countertop as I added a splash of cream to mine, black for him. Just like always.
When I returned, Arturo had settled onto the couch, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert, scanning the room. The calico mama cat approached him cautiously, and to my surprise, he reached down to scratch behind her ears.
"You have cats now?" His eyebrow arched.
I set the mugs down on the coffee table. "One of my security team found them outside. Couldn't leave them."
I sat across from him, crossing my legs at the ankle. "How's Nadine? The kids?"
His face softened. "They're good. Carlo is seventeen going on twenty-five, desperate to become a Scorpion." He rolled his eyes. "I told him college comes first. You can imagine how well that went over."
I nodded, remembering how badly I'd wanted in at his age too.
"Lucia is still in ballet," he continued, sipping his coffee. "And my little Gia is a gymnast now. Best tumbler in her class."
"Takes after her Uncle Lorenzo," I said, the family joke slipping out before I could stop it.
Arturo laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "God help us all if she does."
I found myself laughing too, the sound foreign to my ears after weeks of tension. For a moment, we were just siblings catching up, the weight of everything else temporarily suspended.
Maybe this was okay after all. Maybe he didn't know.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the silver lighter Kara had found by the south gate. The metal was cool against my palm.
"I found this the other day," I said, extending it toward him. "Must have been out there a while. Didn't think you'd been up here for years."
Arturo took it from me, his fingers brushing mine. He turned it over slowly, methodically, the way he examined everything. Sunlight from the window caught the engraved "B" on its side, making it gleam against his manicured fingers.
"I was out here a couple weeks ago," he said, his voice casual.
My stomach clenched tight. The coffee in my mug suddenly tasted bitter.
Arturo's eyes lifted to mine, dark and unreadable like our father's. "You don't think I'd let my baby sister go to a house that hadn't been properly secured, did you?"
He held my gaze, letting the silence stretch between us. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed to grow louder with each passing second.
He traced a finger along the rim of his coffee mug. "I noticed when I was here before that your security team installed a camera in Ma's old bedroom."
The coffee turned to ice in my stomach. I kept my face neutral, the way Pa had taught us. Never let them see.
"They must have thought they'd have reason to keep a close eye on you, Domenica." He drew out each syllable of my name, like a warning shot across a battlefield.
I set my mug down carefully, buying seconds to compose myself. "Standard procedure to keep me safe. I wouldn’t want home invaders to shoot me in the head like they shot Ma."
"You have to be careful about who you keep company with, sister." His eyes flicked toward the kitchen where Kara stood just out of sight. "You really can't trust anyone these days."
"I trust these women with my life," I said, the words coming out more defensive than I intended.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His eyes locked onto mine with the intensity that had broken countless men in interrogation. "Your life is exactly what's at stake."
The grandfather clock ticked in the silence between us. My throat felt dry. "What does that mean?"
He set his coffee cup down with deliberate care. The sound of porcelain against wood seemed to echo through the room.
"I know it was you, Domenica." His voice dropped lower, intimate, the way he used to tell me secrets when we were children. "Lorenzo knows. Pa knows."
"Knows what?" I asked, but the bluff felt hollow even as the words left my lips. I could read the truth on his face, in the slight downturn of his mouth, the same expression he'd worn at Ma's funeral.
Arturo stood, straightening his jacket with a practiced tug at the cuffs. Sunlight caught on his wedding ring as his hands moved. "I came because I wanted to see your face."
He took three steps toward the door, then turned back to me. I remained seated, afraid my legs wouldn't hold me if I tried to stand.
"The next time I see it," he said softly, "I expect it will be in a casket."
The words hung in the air between us, a death sentence delivered with the same tone he might use to comment on the weather.
My brother moved toward the door with the measured steps of a man who'd made his decision long before arriving. His hand settled on the knob.
"Arturo." My voice sounded small in the room where we'd once played as children while Ma watched from her favorite chair.
He turned, his face a mask I'd seen him perfect over decades. The Bellante business face. But his eyes—they held something else entirely.
I stood in the center of the living room, the floorboards creaking beneath me just as they had twenty years ago. "How long do I have?"
A muscle twitched in his jaw. Grief flickered across his features, then anger, then something that looked like resignation. "That I couldn't tell you."
I swallowed hard. "A day? Less?"
"I wish you had not done this, sister." The formal phrasing told me everything. He was already separating himself, already mourning.
He opened the door and stepped onto the porch. His driver stood at attention beside the Rolls-Royce, already opening the rear door. Arturo paused with one foot in the car, then turned back to look at me. The sunlight caught his profile exactly as it had caught Pa's at countless Sunday dinners.
"Give my love to Ma when you see her."
The words hit me like ice water. I wanted to run to him, to grab his sleeve like I had as a child, to beg him to choose me over the family just this once. But I remained rooted to the spot, watching as he slid into the backseat with the same grace he did everything.
Through the tinted window, I saw his hand rise in a small wave. A goodbye. The last one.
I stood in the doorway as the car pulled away, gravel crunching beneath its tires. Dust billowed behind it, golden in the late morning light, then settled back to earth as the car disappeared around the bend.
The door remained open. Cold air rushed in, raising goosebumps along my arms. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. I listened as the engine's purr faded into the distance, leaving nothing but silence.
And then, from the hallway, the steady tick of the grandfather clock. Counting down.