I sat behind the heavy oak desk, reviewing shipping manifests, when the door opened without a knock. Only one man alive got away with that.
Marco stepped inside carrying a black leather bag, his expression flat and professional, as if he were delivering yesterday’s mail instead of the evidence of fresh death. He set the bag on the desk with a dull, heavy thud that echoed slightly in the quiet room.
“As promised.”
I leaned back in the leather chair, the wood creaking under my weight, and slowly unzipped the bag. Inside, resting on clear plastic, were two severed hands. The cuts at the wrists wereclean, almost surgical. These were the same hands that had held the camera, the same fingers that had dared capture images of Aurora without my permission. I stared at them for a long moment, the metallic scent of dried blood reaching my nose, satisfaction settling low and heavy in my gut like warm whiskey.
“Good.”
Marco didn’t flinch. He’d seen worse. So had I. “The rest of him won’t be found. Ever.”
I nodded once, zipping the bag shut with a decisive sound. One less threat breathing near what was mine. The rain outside intensified, thunder rumbling in the distance like the universe itself approved.
Before I could dismiss him, the door opened again. Matteo stood there, eyes flicking from the bag to me. He didn’t look away. Didn’t pale. The kid had steel in him already.
Marco raised an eyebrow. “I’ll leave you two.”
Once the door clicked shut, Matteo stepped fully inside. He glanced at the bag again. Bloody fingers were peeking out.
“Hands?” he asked, voice steady, almost curious.
“Belonged to the man photographing your sister,” I muttered.
Matteo absorbed that without horror. Just a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Good.”
I gestured to the chair across from me. He sat without hesitation.
Silence stretched for a beat, thick and heavy. Then he spoke, low and urgent. “I don’t want to go back to Leo’s.”
I studied him carefully, letting the weight of my gaze press down on him. “Explain.”
“I know what Leo did to my father. I know he saved us too. But every time I look at him… I see the man who ended my family. I can’t live there. Not anymore.” His jaw tightened, eyes burning with that Ventura fire. “I’d rather stay here. With you. WithAurora. I’ll earn my place. I’ll do whatever you ask. Just… don’t send me back.”
The kid was sixteen and already choosing the Devil over the Serpent. Smart. Or suicidal. Maybe both.
“You understand what staying with me means?” I asked quietly, my voice low and dangerous. “This isn’t protection with training wheels. This is my world. Blood. Violence. No mercy.”
“I know.” His eyes met mine without flinching, steady and determined. “I want it. I want to learn from someone who doesn’t pretend to be something he’s not.”
I let the silence linger, testing him. He didn’t squirm, didn’t look away. Good.
“Fine,” I said finally. “You stay. Guesthouse on the east side of the property. You train with me every morning. You follow every rule. You cross me, or you put your sister in danger, and I’ll put you on a plane to the other side of the world. Understood?”
Relief flashed across his face, raw and genuine. He stood and offered his hand like a man. “Understood.”
I shook it, my grip firm. “Go get settled. Marco will show you the house.”
Matteo paused at the door. “Thank you… Santino.”
Then he was gone.
I sat there a moment longer, the weight of another responsibility settling on my shoulders like another layer of armor. Angelo’s ghost would probably laugh at me for collecting strays. The rain continued its assault outside, thunder growling approval. Then I stood, the need to see Aurora burning hotter than anything else, a primal hunger that clawed at my chest.
I found her exactly where some dark, possessive part of me had hoped she would be.
My bedroom. Lights low and golden, casting warm shadows across black silk sheets. The air was thick with the faint scent of her vanilla-apple perfume and something sweeter, arousal.
Completely naked, she knelt in the center of the massive bed, thighs spread wide, hands resting obediently on her knees. Dark hair spilled over her bare shoulders like ink, her nipples tight and flushed, her pretty pink pussy glistening under the low light. Those big, dark eyes lifted to mine, full of challenge, hunger, and just a hint of fear.
