Exile for Marco

Exile for Marco

IZZY'S POV

I had finally made up my mind. One morning, I walked into the council chamber, closing the door behind me myself. I didn’t sit. I stood, hands flat on the polished wooden table. I scanned their faces before commencing.

“Let’s get to it,” I said finally. My voice sounded steadier than I felt. “Marco, step forward.”

He didn’t move right away. He smiled a little, like this was all a game. Then he pushed off the window frame and walked slowly toward the center of the room, boots heavy against the floor. “You called, boss?” he said.

A ripple of discomfort moved through the room at the word “boss.”

I kept my eyes on him. “We’re past games. You know why we’re here.”

He shrugged, stopping a few feet away from me. “I’m sure you’ll remind me.”

The way he said it, like he was daring me, sparked something hot in my chest. I took a slow breath, steady. “You’ve been with this family a long time, you’ve seen what loyalty looks like and you’ve chosen to ignore it.”

A snort escaped him. “Loyalty? To what? To you?”

“To this family,” I said sharply. “The one that gave you a place, the one you just undermined.”

He tilted his head, looking at me like he was examining a stranger. “So this is it then, the big speech. The part where you show them you’re in charge.”

I didn’t rise to it. “Yes,” I said simply. “This is it.”

The room shifted. Chairs creaked again, someone cleared their throat. They wanted a show. I was giving them one.

“After everything you’ve done,” I continued, “after all the chances you were given, you’ve made it clear where you stand. This is your last moment here, Marco.”

That finally broke his smirk. His brows drew together, just a flicker, but I caught it.

“You’re exiling me?” he asked, his tone low now, dangerous.

“Yes,” I said. The word echoed in the room. “You’re being exiled.”

Helena’s head jerked up. One of the captains shifted like he might speak, then thought better of it. Matteo stayed still, eyes locked on me.

Marco let out a short laugh. “Exiled, not killed, not locked up. Just… sent away. Do you have any idea what that makes me?”

“I do,” I said. “It makes you someone else’s problem.”

He stepped closer to the table, voice rising. “No, Izzy. It makes me a man with nothing left to lose, it makes me motivated. You’ve just turned me into your enemy.”

I held his gaze. My heart was thudding, but my voice stayed calm. “You made yourself my enemy the day you crossed the line. This is me keeping order, you want to call yourself motivated? Fine, but you’ll do it far away from here.”

The two captains glanced at each other. One of them whispered something I couldn’t catch. I ignored it, all my attention was on Marco.

“You don’t get to play judge and jury,” he said, stepping right up to the edge of the table. “You’re sitting in a chair that doesn’t belong to you.”

“I’m standing,” I corrected. “And it does belong to me. Because I’m the one here making the decisions, not you, not anymore.”

For a moment, no one moved. I could hear the faint hum of the old light above us, the sound of someone’s pen rolling across the table.

Marco leaned in slightly. “You’re making a mistake, people liked me. They followed me, you think they’re all going to stay put now that you’ve thrown me out?”

“That’s the point of today,” I said. “We find out who’s loyal. Anyone who wants to walk out with you can but they don’t come back, not ever.”

Helena made a small noise in her throat. The captains shifted again, this was the real test.

“You’re not scared of losing people?” Marco asked, almost curious now.

“I’m not scared of cleaning the house,” I said. “Better now than later.”

He gave a slow smile. “Cold.”

“Efficient,” I corrected.

We stared at each other for a long moment. His jaw tightened, his hands flexed at his sides. I didn’t look away.

Finally, he said, “So what? You want me to just walk out? Like some dog kicked off the porch?”

I straightened. “Walk out, take what’s yours, leave. Don’t come back.”

“And if I don’t?” he asked.

“Then we drag you out,” Matteo said from the back, his first words all day. His voice was quiet but carried. “You’ve got about ten seconds to choose, Marco.”

Marco’s eyes flicked to Matteo, then back to me. His smirk was gone now. “You’re going to regret this.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But regret is mine to deal with, not yours.”

Silence again. Then, slowly, Marco stepped back. He looked around the room, scanning the faces, some looked down, some looked away. A few held his gaze, uncertain. He gave a small, humorless laugh.

“Good luck keeping them all in line,” he said. “You’ll need it.”

“The door's that way,” I said quietly.

He lingered one more second, then turned and started walking. The room stayed silent as he crossed to the main door. My pulse was still hammering.

When his hand touched the handle, I said, “Exile starts when you step over that threshold. Don’t look back.”

He paused, back still to us. Then he opened the door and walked out, the sound of it closing behind him echoed through the room.

Nobody spoke for a long moment.

Then one of the captains said, “What happens now?”

I turned to them, still standing. “Now? We find out who’s loyal and we rebuild with the people who are.”

Matteo gave me a small nod, almost a smile. Helena still looked pale but no one argued.

I let my hands drop from the table. “This is the line,” I said. “Cross it and you’re gone. Stay, and you prove yourself, that’s how it’s going to be from here on.”

There was a murmur of agreement. Someone whispered, “She really did it.”

I looked at them all. “The meeting's over. Get back to work.”

They started filing out, quiet, heads down. I waited until the last one left before I sat, finally letting out the breath I’d been holding. My hands were shaking a little under the table but my voice had been steady. That was what mattered.

Outside, somewhere do
wn the hall, I could hear the distant sound of the main doors closing again. Marco was gone for now.