"She's carrying my child. I have a right..."
"You have no rights!" He's shaking with fury. "None! You're nothing to her! Nothing to me! We're done, Axel. Twenty years of friendship, gone. Over. Because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants!"
The words hit harder than his fists.
"Get him out of here," Luca says to Marco, his voice going flat. "Get all the Santegos out. I want them gone by sunset."
"Luca..." I try one more time.
"If you're still here in an hour, I'm calling a hit on you. That's a promise." He turns his back on me. "We're done."
Viktor grabs my arm, starts pulling me toward the door. I let him. There's nothing left to say.
In the hallway, I can hear Luca shouting for Aurora. Hear his voice breaking as he calls for his daughter.
I've destroyed everything.
Viktor gets me to my room. Starts throwing my things into bags while I stand there bleeding and numb.
"I told you this would blow up," he says, not unkindly. "I told you."
"I know."
"What's the plan now?"
"I don't have one."
"Boss, you need one. Luca's serious about that hit."
"Let him." I slump onto the bed. "Maybe it's what I deserve."
"Don't talk like that." Viktor stops packing. "You made mistakes. But that baby is yours. Aurora is... whatever she is to you. You don't give up on that."
"She's Luca's daughter. He'll protect her. Keep her safe."
"From everyone except Leo. You think Luca's going to maintain that broken engagement? He'll probably arrange something new. Someone else."
The thought makes my blood run cold.
Someone else touching Aurora. Someone else raising my child.
"I can't..." I start, then stop. "I can't let that happen."
"Then figure out a plan. Fast. Because once we're out of this house, getting back in is going to be a lot harder."
He's right. I need a plan.
18
AURORA
I'm reading in my room when I hear the shouting.
It's coming from downstairs, muffled but unmistakable. Dad's voice, raised in a way I haven't heard since the Kozlov retaliation. And someone else. Axel, maybe? I can't tell.
My stomach twists. Something's wrong. Something's very wrong.
I set down my book and move to the door, pressing my ear against it. The voices are clearer now, but I still can't make out words. Just rage, pure and visceral, coming from my father's office.
