Chapter 80
Aldo
I watched from beside the car as my men escorted Aurora from the safe house and down the driveway. She was silent, shoulders cowed. Eyes staring vacant into space. Like she’d lost her will to fight.
She looked so small, so unassuming. Like the loss of this war had robbed her of so much more than her money and power.
The Aurora I’d known for all my life had always been proud and strong, a fighter. A queen meant to sit on a nobel throne. Now, the once-proud woman who had orchestrated so much chaos was now a shell of herself, her steps heavy and her gaze distant.
I hated seeing her like that.
Broken.
Beautiful, but so broken. Nothing like the girl I’d once loved as a friend, a sister. As family. As my most trusted advisor.
As the entourage passed my car, Aurora hesitated. One of the men moved to nudge her forward, but I held up a hand. “Let her speak.”
Her gaze met mine, and for a moment, I saw a spark of the girl I’d once known, buried deep within. Not the conniving queen, not the desperate damsel. The girl I’d called family.
“I hope you get everything you wished for,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Everything you thought you couldn’t have with me.”
More words like knives—how was she so effective at wielding language as a weapon against me? She might have won the war, if I’d allowed her more verbal sparring.
She didn’t wait for me to respond before she climbed into the backseat of the SUV.
Carlo and I watched the convoy disappear into the distance.
The ride back to the Orlov villa was quiet. Silent might be an apter term—silent as the grave. Carlo stared straight through the windshield, his hands white on the wheel.
Finally, I sighed, shattering the silence. “Say it.”
“You sure about this?” Carlo’s gaze flicked sideways towards me for a moment. “Really sure? Look how badly letting her live went last time.”
“I know.” I kept my gaze fixed on the passing landscape through the window, though it all blurred behind my unfocused eyes, like the thoughts whirring through my brain. “I’m not sure. But it’s done.”
“She seemed … Broken,” Carlo admitted as he spun the wheel to turn the car onto the road that would take us to the villa. “But that doesn’t mean she won’t rise again.”
“For her sake,” I said, “I hope she doesn’t.”
There wouldn’t be a third chance. Not for her. Not for me. If ever I saw Aurora Falcone again, that meeting would end in her death.
“Me too.” Carlo slowed the car as we approached the driveway. Layla stood at the bottom, waiting, her face lined in expectancy.
She didn’t speak as we climbed from the car. Didn’t ask questions as we trailed up the driveway and into the house. Merely followed us down the long, empty halls and into the study I’d claimed as my own.
“It’s over.” I lifted the decanter of whiskey from the side table, sloshed some of the amber liquid neatly into a glass. “For good this time.”
“You finished her?” Layla accepted the proffered glass but didn’t back away. I held the second glass out to Carlo.
“No.” The third glass I kept for myself as I led the way to the leather couches in the corner by the unlit fireplace. “I didn’t kill her.”
“You let her go?” Layla asked in a whisper over her undrunk whiskey.
I threw my glass back in a single shot. “No. She’s being escorted from the country as we speak.”
“But she’s alive.” Layla set her glass on the coffee table, her eyes never leaving my face. “Whole. Unharmed.”
“She’s gone.” I set my own glass down, my gaze cast into the blackened embers of the long-spent fire. “She won’t be coming back.”
“How do you know that?” Layla crossed her arms, and I felt her stare burning through me, though I didn’t turn her way. “What’s to stop her from coming back?”
“She’s broken.” Carlo spoke this time, leaned forward to set his own empty glass on the table. “I saw her break. She’s done this time.”
“Do you think that was the right call?” Layla never looked away.
So I turned back and met her gaze. “I don’t know. But I … I couldn’t do it.”
“I understand.” Layla reached out, and her warm fingers traced the crook of my arm. “Killing her wouldn’t have been like killing Marco. She was something—someone—important to you for a long, long time.”
I blew out a breath. “She was.”
“Killing her wouldn’t have undone any of the damage she did,” Layla said. “It wouldn’t have brought peace any more than banishing her. Mercy is never a mistake.”
I laughed, softly, humorlessly. Leaned in to run my fingers along the line of her jaw. “You’re too good for me, Layla Bennett.”
“On the contrary,” she replied, her lips curving into a smile. “I’m just trying to be enough for you.”
“You’re more than enough for me.”
“I am going to need a lot more whiskey,” Carlo cut in, “if you two are gonna be talking like this.”
I laughed, and rose to collect our glasses. This time, I poured us hefty drinks before returning to the couch. Together, we spent the night sipping, sulking, reminiscing. Reflecting on the past minutes, hours, days, months.
Years.
None of our lives had been easy.
The next evening, Layla and I returned to the Marcello estate. Construction was ongoing on the repairs that Marco’s men had inflicted during that first brutal battle, but the house was liveable once again.
Inside, the quiet that prevailed through the halls felt like the first true downtime we’d experienced in months. It felt like the calm after the storm. It felt like peace.
Lasting peace.
I slipped out onto the balcony of my room to sit and tilt my head up towards the stars. When was the last time I sat out here, watching the stars? When was the last time I’d breathed in fresh night air?
“What’re you doing out here?” Layla slipped through the sliding door behind me, a glass of red wine in her hand. “Looking for shooting stars to wish on?”
I chuckled, wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her in close. “Not quite. Just … enjoying the moment. Like you said.”
“This is a nice moment.” She smiled, followed my gaze up to the crystal-clear night sky. To all the millions of stars scattered through it like powdered sugar. “I suspect we might have a lot of nice moments on the horizon.”
“I hope so.” I pulled her in closer. “But there’s still a lot of work to be done. To rebuild the city. To ensure nobody else gets any brilliant ideas, and peace lasts.”
“I know.”
“So for now, let’s just enjoy this moment, yeah?” I tilted my head against her shoulder, and she settled onto my lap. “Because this is the one we know for certain we’ve got.”
“Right.” Layla leaned into me, the warmth of her body curling into mine. “This is a very good moment to enjoy.”
And for the first time in what felt like forever, the future didn’t feel quite so uncertain. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I had hope for what was to come.
