Chapter 79

Aldo

News of the victory at the factory didn’t just spread verbally through the city—peace washed through it like a wave. Neighborhoods and parks that had once been the sight of nightly altercations now slept silently once more. The streets had cleared of bullet casings and debris.

Even the Orlov villa hummed with a quiet sort of contentment in stark contrast to the muted tension that had coiled it in an iron spring for the past weeks.

The battle had been more than a turning point—it had been a decisive end to the war. Marco was dead. His forces were decimated. Allies cut ties with the Morettis or fled the city to avoid the rampaging wrath of the Marcello family.

My men took back territories we’d lost, gained new ones. Gained tentative new allies, too, as many of Moretti’s alleged friends turned tail to protect their lives and assets.

Still, one thing remained unresolved.

I stood by the large window in my borrowed study, staring out at the sprawling grounds of the villa. My faded reflection in the glass traced the contours of a cold, grim face.

Of a merciless, uncaring man. A man as dangerous and unyielding as my thoughts. Marco was gone, but Aurora was still lurking in the shadows, trying to regroup.

A knock on the door broke through my reverie. “Enter.”

Carlo stepped inside, his face grim but resolute. He spoke only three simple words. “We’ve found her.”

He needed no others.

I turned towards him, an emotion I didn’t dare name clutching at my throat and chest. “Take me to her.”

Carlo led the way soundlessly through the villa, climbed behind the wheel of the car. I slid into the passenger seat. It wasn’t until after he’d pulled out onto the main road that he spoke.

“She’s in a safe house near the Falcone estate.” He spun the wheel, taking us onto a crowded commercial road. “But even her own family’s started to slink away. She has almost no protection.”

“Good.” My jaw tightened, but I pressed on anyway. “Have the men surround it. No one goes in or out.”

“Roger that.”

That emotion clutched at my throat again. I thought maybe I couldn't have named it, even if I’d tried.

Fear? Sadness? Regret? Doubt?

Neither Carlo nor I spoke further as the car hurtled down suburban streets lined in charming rowhouses that slowly gave way to larger single-family buildings.

The safehouse was one such single-family, a little rundown and worse for the wear, tucked onto a faded patch of grass. Sagging bushes and tired saplings lined the short driveway as Carlo pulled the car in.

My feet crunched on the gravel drive as we climbed out. We marched up the steps towards the door, the sagging wooden porch creaking under my feet. One of the windows on the second floor was boarded up.

All in all, it was a far cry from the luxury and power Aurora had once wielded.

I didn’t bother knocking; she’d know by now that I was here. That she was surrounded. That it was over.

I simply let myself inside.

The dim air was musty with the fragrance of mothballs and unused furniture. The threadbare carpet beneath my feet only partially muffled my steps as I followed my instincts to the kitchen.

One large window let in a wave of afternoon sunlight, and it was here, at the kitchen table, that Aurora sat.

Even in this dingy place, even with her usually pristine appearance worn down to exhausted simplicity—a plain T-shirt and a loose ponytail, no makeup save for a light liner beneath her eyes—Aurora was radiant. Bathed in sunshine like a fallen angel.

Her chin tilted up, and her eyes sparked with life as she met my gaze. “Hello, Aldo.”

“Aurora.” I paused beside the table. My men hovered in the doorway behind me.

“Come to finish what you started?” her mouth curved into a bitter smile. “Or do you still not have the balls?”

“Does it matter anymore?” I asked, sliding out a chair. I sat across from her, folded my hands on the wooden tabletop. “Whether or not I have the willpower to kill you?”

Her smile faltered, and for a brief moment, something like regret flashed through her eyes. But quickly enough, she reined it in, reined it all in behind a cold mask of queenly superiority.

“It matters,” she said, voice low, “because even if you win, your rule will always be in question. No merciful mafia don has ever made history, Vasco.”

Her use of my old name cut deeper than it should have. “Your mockery doesn’t affect me, Aurora.”

“Mockery.” She huffed a sad-sounding laugh, and her composure crumpled. “Can’t you see, Vas? Even here, at the end of all things, even now, I’m watching out for you. Never stopped loving you.”

Those words cut like knives. Each one a new scrape against my skin. How was it that I could ignore physical injuries, but her jibes wounded me to the soul.

“Do it!” She stood suddenly, her chair scraping against the wood flooring. “Kill me! Do it, Aldo. Prove you’re the leader this city needs!”

“Aurora.” I closed my eyes because I couldn’t bear to see her like this—her eyes wild, her teeth bared. Desperation etched into every line of her body. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was too weak to be the leader this city needed.

“Do you think I’m afraid to die?” Aurora continued, her tone desperate. “I’ve lost everything. Marco is dead, the Moretti family is in ruins, and now you stand here as if you’re some merciful god. Just finish it!”

Silence shuttered the room in a blanket, like fresh-fallen snow on a forest. Carlo shifted behind me, bringing the slightest hint of movement to the air.

“Enough.” My voice slashed the quiet. I stood, moved around the table towards Aurora. My gaze never left her. In this, I could be strong.

“You’re right.” I pulled out the chair beside her and sat. “I should kill you. It would be easy enough to do. There are many who’d argue you deserve it for all you did to this family. To this city.”

Her jaw tensed, but she met my gaze with unflinching resolve. “But?”

“But I’m not going to.” I kept my voice firm, my gaze steady. So no one in that room would question my own resolve. “Because in this case, death is mercy.”

Her breathing turned suddenly shallow. “What are you saying, Aldo?”

“Death is escape. Death is freedom.” I folded my hands in my lap. “To die is to forget the sins you’ve committed, the pain and suffering you’ve wrought on this city and its people. To die is mercy.”

Aurora’s hands clenched into fists. Her breathing stayed shallow. “Then what are you going to do?”

“Before,” I said, “I banished you from the family. Clearly, that was a mistake. This time, I’m banishing you for good. Forever. From this country.”

“What?” Her word was a breath, barely a hint of shifting air. “You can’t—”

“You will leave the city today.” I stood, still never breaking eye contact. “I will send men to see that you are taken to an airport. I’ll arrange a flight for you. I’m thinking …”

I tilted my gaze towards Carlo.

“Russia?” he asked. “Somewhere remote? With Orlov influence?”

“No,” Aurora breathed, shock turning her voice to air. “Please … no. I won’t … Please. Please just kill me.”

“See?” I leaned in a little closer, but kept my voice just loud enough to ensure everyone in the room heard it. “Tell me death isn’t mercy, Aurora.”

Her gaze dropped to the table. Her hands hung limp at her sides.

She declined to answer.