Chapter 13

Aurora

I lie there in his arms, the weight of everything softening under the warmth of his embrace. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek is oddly comforting, like a lullaby I never knew I needed. I can still feel the echo of his touch, the way he looked at me as if I were the only person in his world. It’s overwhelming… and terrifying.

Because I wasn’t supposed to feel this.

Not with him.

Damiano Lombardi—the man I was promised to, the man I once feared. The man I tried to hate. But tonight, everything shifted. He wasn’t cold. He wasn’t ruthless. He was… human. Tender. And when he held me, I felt like I belonged somewhere for the first time in so long.

I turn slightly, my eyes tracing the shape of his jaw, the faint stubble that gives him that dangerous allure. His eyes are closed now, peaceful, his breath steady. It’s strange to see him like this, unguarded.

My fingers hover over his skin, uncertain, before resting gently against his chest.

“This changes everything,” I whisper into the quiet.

And it does. Because I’m no longer sure where I end and where he begins. My heart should be screaming warnings, but instead, it just… aches. With longing. With confusion. With something dangerously close to love.

The sunlight creeps in through the sheer curtains, casting a soft golden hue across the room. I stretch beneath the sheets, my muscles still aching from the night before. A tender soreness lingers, a reminder of how everything changed between us.

When I sit up, I find Damiano already dressed, black suit tailored to perfection, his dark hair neatly in place. He looks effortlessly powerful, as always. But his eyes soften the moment they meet mine.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, voice quiet but direct.

I manage a small smile. “Still sore from last night,” I admit, tugging the sheet around me.

His jaw tightens slightly, a flicker of guilt in his gaze. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been gentler.”

“You weren’t cruel,” I say quickly. “I wanted it. I don’t regret it.”

He nods slowly, then takes a sip of his espresso before sliding something across the table toward me, a sleek black card.

“Take this,” he says. “Go back to your town. Back to your café. Live the life you’ve always dreamed of.”

I blink, stunned. My fingers hesitate before picking up the card. “What are you saying?”

“Vincent will drive you. He’ll stay nearby. Anytime you need something—anything—just call me. I’ll be there. Always.” He holds my gaze, steady and sure. “I don’t want to keep you in a cage, Aurora. I’m setting you free, little bird.”

My throat tightens, a lump forming I can’t quite swallow down. I should feel relieved, even grateful… but why does it hurt?

“I thought… I thought you wanted to marry me.”

“I did,” he says, walking closer. “And maybe I still do. But not like this. Not if it means clipping your wings.”

His fingers graze my cheek for just a moment before he turns away.

And just like that, the man I thought would never let me go… lets me fly.

He pauses at the door, his hand on the handle, the weight of goodbye hanging heavily between us. Then he turns, just enough to look back at me over his shoulder.

“Birdie,” he says softly, his voice rough around the edges. “I’ll always be around.”

And with those final words, he opens the door and walks out.

I sit there in silence, clutching the black card in my hand as the echo of his footsteps fades down the hallway. My chest tightens, and before I can stop them, tears spill from my eyes—quiet and heavy.

He set me free.

So why does it feel like something just broke inside me?

The town feels quieter than I remember. Maybe it’s me who’s changed.

Vincent drives the black SUV all the way from the city, his presence silent but reassuring. He doesn’t ask questions, and I don’t offer any answers. The card Damiano gave me rests heavily in my purse, more like a weight than a gift. I trace my fingers along its smooth edge, wondering if he meant it when he said I’ll always be around.

Morning Ember Café comes into view, its soft golden lights glowing through the windows, just like I left them. I didn’t realize how much I missed the smell of freshly brewed coffee or the way the chairs slightly creak when you pull them back. Anna runs to the door when she sees me, her face lighting up with relief and surprise.

“You’re back!” she says, hugging me tight. “We kept everything running. Max fixed the leak, and we even added your hazelnut twist to the menu.”

I manage a small smile. “Thank you. I needed that.”

But later, when I’m alone in my apartment upstairs, everything feels too quiet. I sit by the window with a cup of cappuccino, watching the town breathe around me. My freedom is here. My dreams are here.

And still… my heart aches for the man who set me free.

Damiano – Office, Present Day

The silence in my office is thick, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. The city stretches out beyond the tall windows, but I’m not really looking at it. My mind is somewhere else, three years in the past.

I remember the music. The soft laughter. The way her eyes lit up as the candles flickered on her birthday cake. She had just turned eighteen. Still just a girl then. Untouched by the world. Untouched by pain.

I remember standing in the corner of the party, keeping my distance. I shouldn’t have been there, at least not in the way I was. But her stepbrother insisted, and I… I was curious. Curious about the fire in her. The lightness in her laugh. The way she walked like the world belonged to her, even though she had no idea what kind of darkness circled her life.

I’d brought a gift, something small and delicate. A thin, gold chain with a tiny flamingo charm. She loved flamingos. I’d remembered that from a brief conversation, maybe even one she thought I hadn’t been listening to.

She had smiled so brightly when she opened the box. “It’s beautiful,” she’d said, slipping it on immediately, turning toward me with those warm eyes. I was watching from a distance and she never noticed me.

She still wears it. Every day. Even now.

I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly. She’s not that girl anymore, and I’m not the man I was either. But even then… something about her had already begun to slip under my skin. It terrified me. She was too young. Too innocent. Too good for the blood on my hands.

I shouldn’t have fallen for her. But I did. Slowly. Irrevocably.

And now that I’ve set her free… I can’t stop wondering if she’ll ever come back.

Damiano – Office, Hours Before Midnight

The silence of my office clings to me like a second skin. The city has gone quiet, save for the hum of traffic far below and the occasional siren. I sit alone, swirling the last drops of whiskey in my glass, staring at the flickering candle I lit more out of habit than need. A poor substitute for the glow she left behind.

Aurora Sienna Moretti.

She was always there. At every Christmas party hosted by the Cosa Nostra, big halls with polished floors and gold chandeliers, stiff suits and fake smiles. Her father used to bring her, always so proud, like she was the only light in his life. And maybe she was. She’d stand off to the side, barely speaking, her eyes wide but never sharp. Innocent. Quiet. Seemingly untouched by the corruption that soaked into the bones of men like me.

I remember the first time I truly saw her. Not just glanced, not just noted, but saw her.

She was sixteen. I was already a made man, standing by the bar in my black tuxedo, drinking scotch and watching the room like a hawk. I always watched everyone. Calculated. Measured. That’s what I do.

But then she walked in wearing a red dress, her hair falling softly around her shoulders.

She wasn’t like the others. She didn’t try to impress. She didn’t laugh too loud or flirt with the young soldiers. She sat in the corner sipping juice, her gaze flickering across the room like she was just enduring the evening, not living it.

And I watched her. Every year after that, I watched her.

I told myself it was nothing. Just curiosity. Just caution. She was Moretti’s daughter, after all, a man with one foot in and one foot out of our world. But the truth was more dangerous. More personal.

She grew up in front of my eyes. Turned from that quiet girl into a woman with a heart full of fire and dreams bigger than this life allows. She became beauty wrapped in strength. And the day I realized I wanted her, not just as a wife, not as a trophy, but as a partner, as someone I could never let go of, was the day I knew I was damned.

Because I’m not the kind of man who gets to love. Not freely.

But fuck, I love her.

Even if I’ve always known I shouldn’t.