Chapter 12 - Shelby
Shelby
Dave’s penthouse on Beacon Hill is quieter than usual.
He sits behind the mahogany desk in his private study, reviewing financial documents that likely have nothing to do with the hotel chain and everything to do with Syndicate operations.
His expression shifts as I enter without knocking, which is a privilege reserved for family and those few trusted enough to breach the sanctum.
“We need to talk,” I say, closing the door behind me. “Privately.”
Dave sets down his pen and leans back in his chair, studying me with those green eyes that miss nothing.
At thirty-five, my oldest brother has learned to read situations the way a Marine reads terrain.
He assesses threats, calculates angles, and determines the best tactical advantage before anyone else in the room realizes the game has begun.
“This is about Serena.” It’s not a question.
I push my glasses up on my nose, which is a tell I can never seem to control, and move to the bar in the corner of the study. I pour myself two fingers of Irish whiskey. I fill another glass and offer it to him. He accepts it without a word.
I add, “It’s about what she found about her father.”
I walk him through the situation methodically, the way I’ve been trained to report intelligence.
The conversation she overheard. The documents she photographed.
The flash drive contains files documenting an operation spanning years and involving multiple continents.
I watch his expression darken with each detail, watch the moment comprehension becomes horror, then finally becomes barely restrained fury.
By the time I finish, Dave is standing, moving to the windows that overlook Boston. The city glitters below us, unaware that we’re discussing the systematic exploitation of thousands of human beings occurring in its shadows.
“Giovanni,” Dave breathes the name like a curse. “Jesus Christ.”
“There’s more.” I take a drink, welcoming the burn. “Nikolai’s been investigating connections between his uncle Gregor’s operations and the Italian side. The links go deeper than we thought. Giovanni isn’t just a participant. He might be one of the architects.”
Dave turns to face me, and I see the weight of leadership settle more heavily on his shoulders.
As the current leader of the Hearts of Stone Syndicate, he carries responsibility for decisions that affect thousands of lives.
Some of those decisions are about protecting those lives.
Others are about managing the darkness, which often translates into ending lives.
It’s a necessary evil so that the dark doesn’t consume everyone else.
“How committed is Serena?” he asks quietly.
“To our investigation? Completely. She was the one who gathered the evidence. She made backups. She built a digital fortress that her father can’t touch.”
My brother raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Ever considered this might be a trap? You said it yourself. All the information you’ve got came from one source only, who happens to be the villain’s daughter.” After a short pause, he asks, “Where exactly does your wife stand in this?”
I choose my words carefully. “Serena’s committed to bringing her father down.”
Dave nods slowly, processing the implications. “And you?”
The question hangs between us, weighted with meaning that extends far beyond the immediate investigation. Dave is really asking about my judgment. About whether I can remain objective when my personal feelings are involved.
“I’m committed to the investigation,” I say, my voice level and controlled. “As you said, we need corroboration. We also need to map out the entire operation before we make any moves. We need to build an unbeatable case so you can present it to the other members of the Syndicate.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I turn away from my brother’s probing stare and move to the window beside him. The harbor spreads out below us, dark water reflecting the city lights. “What do you want me to say, Dave?”
“I want you to tell me the truth.” His voice is calm but carries an edge that puts me on alert.
I brace for whatever he’s about to throw at me.
“I’ve been watching you for the past few days.
Ever since you came back from Vegas. You’re different.
Better. You’re not drinking yourself into oblivion.
You’re sleeping. You’re smiling, for Christ’s sake.
Shelby, I haven’t seen you genuinely smile in years.
I guess since you left the Marines, actually. ”
This conversation is heading in a direction I don’t want it to go.
“I’m fine,” I grunt through gritted teeth. I’m clenching them so hard my jaw hurts.
“You’re more than fine. You’re happy. And that happiness has everything to do with Serena DiLorenzo.”
“You’re wrong.” The denial comes out sharper than intended. I drain what’s left of the whiskey in my glass. “Serena needed help. I provided it. That’s all this is.”
Dave’s fingers squeeze my shoulder. “You married her in Vegas. You brought her into your penthouse like she belongs there. You’ve made a one-eighty in a matter of days. And you’re going to stand here and try to convince me this is just a favor to a friend?”
“Yes.” The word feels like a lie even as I speak it.
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. The marriage is legal, yes.
But emotionally? Nothing is going on between us.
” One more lie that tumbles out of me without hesitation.
“Serena needs stability right now. She needs someone who understands the darkness we live in. She needs protection while we figure out how to handle her father’s situation.
I can provide all of that without letting this become something it can never be. ”
Dave moves to the bar and pours himself another generous measure of whiskey. He takes his time, his movements deliberate, assessing. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter but somehow more dangerous.
“Do you remember what I told you before I married Alexia?”
“This isn’t the same situation.”
“Answer the question.”
I push my glasses up again, frustrated with my own nervous habit. “You said you were terrified. That loving her meant having something to lose. That you weren’t sure you were capable of being what she needed.”
“And do you remember what you told me?”
“Don’t do this, Dave. Don’t go there,” I murmur.
He ignores my plea. “You told me that fear is weakness. You told me that the strongest men are the ones who choose to be vulnerable despite their fears. You told me that love isn’t weakness, but the only thing that makes us actually human.
” Dave steps closer, and I’m reminded that despite being two years older, we’re physically matched.
“You gave me permission to choose Alexia, to choose love over my fears. And I’m trying to do the same for you. ”
“It’s different,” I insist, and I hate how desperate I sound.
“Alexia isn’t a crime boss’s daughter investigating her own father’s trafficking operation.
Alexia’s situation was complicated, but this?
This is a fucking minefield, Dave. Every direction we move could trigger an explosion. And Serena is at the center of it all.”
“Exactly.” Dave sets down his glass with deliberate care. “She’s at the center of it, which means she needs someone she trusts completely. Someone who understands what she’s facing. Someone who won’t abandon her when things get difficult.”
“That’s precisely why I can’t let this become real,” I say, and the words taste like poison.
“Every person I’ve cared about has been hurt.
In Syria, Afghanistan, and Russia, I’ve watched good people die because I couldn’t protect them.
I’ve failed my missions. I’ve let women and children slip through my fingers while I stood paralyzed by my own ghosts.
How could I possibly be what Serena needs when I can’t even be what I’m trained to be? ”
Dave is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is so gentle, almost hard to bear. “You’re not responsible for those deaths. You didn’t kill those people, Shelby. You know that, right?”
“Do I?” The question comes out bitter. “Because it sure feels like I am. Because every one of those failures is stuck on repeat in my head. Their deaths are tattooed on my soul. And now you want me to drag Serena into my darkness?”
“I want you to trust that maybe she can handle it. More importantly, I want you to consider that maybe loving her isn’t a weakness. It might be the thing that saves you from drowning in all your darkness.”
I turn away from him because I can’t stand the hope in his expression.
Hope that I might actually deserve something good.
Hope that my broken pieces could somehow fit together with someone else’s broken pieces and create something whole and lasting.
It’s a beautiful lie. But I refuse to let myself believe it.
“I can manage the attraction between us,” I say, my voice cold and controlled.
“I respect Serena as a partner and ally. I admire her even. She’s brilliant and strong and brave in ways that most people will never achieve.
” I pause to take a sip. The burning sensation numbs the pain in my chest. I scoff, “But real love? The kind that makes you weak and stupid? That makes you capable of sacrificing everything? That’s off the table, Dave. For both of us, for both our sakes.”
“Shelby—”
“I mean it. Serena feels exactly like me.” I push past him toward the door.
“When we go into this investigation, I need to be sharp. I need to be focused. I need to be the operative you trained me to be, not a man distracted by his feelings for a woman who deserves better than what I can give her. We do this right, we build the case, and we end this. And when it’s done, I step back and let her rebuild her life without me in it to mess it up. ”
Dave doesn’t try to stop me as I reach for the door handle. But his voice follows me into the hallway. “You’re a coward. And the worst part? You know it, brother.”
The words hit harder than any punch could. I pause at the threshold, my hand frozen on the door. Every instinct screams at me to turn around and defend myself. To explain that my caution is wisdom, not cowardice. That protecting Serena from myself is the most honorable thing I can do.
But the truth is that Dave is right. I am a coward. I’m hiding behind the ghosts of my past, using them as an excuse to keep my heart locked away where it can’t be shattered.
The problem is that Serena has already found the key.
I close the door behind me and head back home, knowing that I’m about to have the most difficult conversation of my life.
I’ll tell Serena that I was wrong about the Vegas wedding.
I’ll explain that while I care about her deeply, I can’t let this marriage become something real.
I’ll be professional, distant, and careful with every word so that she understands this is about protecting her, not rejecting her.
I’ll build the walls higher than they’ve ever been.
And I’ll spend every night knowing that the woman sleeping in the guest room is the other half of a puzzle I refuse to complete.
The penthouse is dark when I arrive. I find Serena in the kitchen. She’s changed out of the clothes she wore to her father’s house into a pair of designer jeans and a silk blouse. Her hair falls loose past her shoulders. She’s making tea, which means she’s been waiting for me. Probably worrying.
“How did it go?” she asks, setting down the kettle.
“He took it well. Strategically sound. Cautious but committed.” I keep my tone professional, already rebuilding the distance I allowed to crumble since Vegas.
“We’ll need to be very careful moving forward.
He agrees with our assessment that the Syndicate can’t know that we’re investigating.
If word gets out, we’ve got targets on our backs, and the entire operation goes underground. ”
Something flickers across her face—disappointment, maybe. Or sadness. I can’t let myself examine it too closely.
“Of course,” she says quietly. “We should probably discuss security protocols. Make sure we’re not being followed or monitored.”
“I’ll have Ray’s team sweep both our offices for bugs. Here is safe so that we can use it for evidence review.”
She nods, watching me with those amber eyes that see too much. “Shelby, we should probably talk about—”
“Not tonight.” I cut her off firmly, but in a gentle tone. “We both need rest. The investigation is going to be intense, and we need to be sharp. We can discuss logistics tomorrow.”
She flinches slightly at my coldness, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she turns back to the kettle and pours hot water over tea leaves with mechanical precision.
I excuse myself and head to my study, locking the door.
I sit behind my desk and eye the flash drive Serena gave me earlier, sitting innocuously beside my laptop.
That drive contains evidence of one of the largest criminal enterprises operating in the modern world.
That drive also contains the blueprint for my own destruction.
Because investigating Giovanni DiLorenzo means getting closer to Serena. Means spending late nights reviewing evidence together. Means watching her process the betrayal of her own father. Means being there for her when everything falls apart.
And I can’t do that without letting her matter more than she already does. She’s already snuck past my carefully constructed defenses.
So, I’ll have to maintain distance. I’ll be the operative, the enforcer, the broken Marine who knows better than to trust his own judgment about matters of the heart.
And when this is over, when we’ve taken down their operation and brought Giovanni to justice, I’ll let her go.
I pour myself another drink and try not to think about the way she looked at me in that Vegas chapel. I have to erase from memory the feeling of waking up with her in my arms. There’s no point in imagining a future together because I’m not good for Serena.
“Hell, I’m not a good man. Period,” I mutter to the empty room as I open the flash drive and prepare for war.