Chapter 38

It was the dead of night by the time we pulled up to the estate. The windows were dark besides a pair on the main level; most likely my uncle and aunt who'd stayed up to make sure we came home. But thoughts of my family quickly dissolved when I saw the bastard waiting for us.

Aramis was crossing the yard as soon as we pulled up, his strides long and face furious. Jeremiah maintained a few paces behind him as he followed.

"What were you thinking, Camilla?" he shouted at his sister as I knocked down the kickstand. "What is the point in trying to protect you when you rush headfirst into danger?"

"Don't you fucking talk to her like that," I seethed, swinging off the bike after her. "She saved no less than twenty-five men tonight, no thanks to you!"

"And if something happened to her?" Aramis asked. "Would it have been worth it?"

"Well, if we're asking stupid questions," I spat as my vision filtered red, "I have a few for you, Marchese."

"Nico ..." Milla said, a warning as my body took a defensive posture.

Aramis rolled his eyes. "What now, Attano?"

Damn the bastard, I wanted to strangle the condescension from him right there and then. "Why weren't you helping Marcus with the engine?"

He scoffed. "I didn't need to."

"Or did you know something would be wrong with the boiler, and if you were there, you would have no reason not to catch the issue." Milla placed a hand on my shoulder, trying to talk me down again, but I shirked off her touch and took a step closer.

The back door opened then, light spilling from the entrance. Solomon came out in his sleepwear, limping without the support of his cane. "What's going on out here?"

"Tell him, Aramis." I shoved my finger in his face, felt the spit lining my lips as I barked the words. "Tell him how you knew there would be something wrong with the train, which is why you positioned yourself in the car with your sister and left the rest of us to burn!"

"You think I had something to do with tonight?" He shoved my hand away while he took a step back to distance himself. "You fucked up. Someone out there is playing you, and it isn't me, Attano, but saints, I wish it was." Pale eyes looked me up and down, his top lip curling. "You should be thanking me for being there for my sister. Hells, she'd probably be dead—or worse—because you wanted to save one fucking descendant and risk her life by exposing her in the process."

Before I knew what I was doing, my gun was in my hand and pointed in his face.

"Nico, stop!" Milla's scream was hysterical, a shout I'd never heard from her before. "Think about this! Think about what you're doing."

But I had thought about this. This man—this blonde-haired, insolent Marchese—had been the source of every wrong thing in my life. The reason I'd been sent to prison, the reason my father had died, the reason Milla had been taken in the first place. Every time I planned something he was in on, it fell apart—and my family was put at risk.

Saints, I had thought about this for a long time. So often had I dreamed of this opportunity that it felt as if I were looking down on myself, watching with my family at the door.

Aramis didn't flinch, only raised his chin an inch. "I'll never apologize for keeping Camilla safe. You want to shoot me because I couldn't care less if you and your men burn, Attano? Then do it, because it's true."

"Aramis, for the love of the Creator, just shut up."

The order didn't come from my wife, but from the other Marchese. The one who'd been watching in the shadow of his brother since the day he set foot on my property. Jeremiah didn't look at me directly, his focus remaining on the ground near my feet. Though his voice was steady, his chest filled and collapsed as burst of cloudy breath streamed from his lips in the chilled air.

"Nico, whatever Aramis has done, spare him."

"Why should I?" I asked him.

He lifted his gaze to mine then. "Because he's our family, and while he might act like an idiot, he's not a traitor."

Esme had emerged from her garage, where she frequently slept. Fran had followed her husband, lingering in the doorway with a look I couldn't discern on her face. They all stared at me. Silent. Waiting for my decision.

"Nico, if you do this," Milla whispered, "if you do this, I promise you will lose me forever."

Was that something I could live with if it ensured our safety? My vengeance? His death would satisfy the thirst in my bones for atonement, charging my motivations as villainous at best. It would ensure I'd cut off a poisonous limb from the family tree. But losing Milla wasn't worth vengeance. I'd paid that price once, and it nearly killed us both.

I lowered the gun, and she gasped like she'd been holding her breath.

Not taking my eyes off Aramis, I sheathed the pistol. "Since you don't care about my family or returning the same protection they have offered you the last three months, get the fuck out of my guesthouse. If I see you in the morning, I'll have my men—the ones you would let die—toss you on your miserable ass back across the river."

He said nothing, only maintained his glare as I turned from the Marchese sons and stalked back to the bike. Milla rushed over to stand in front of it, hands braced on the handlebars as if to block my way.

"Where are you going?" she asked. Wet lines trailed down her cheeks. She wanted to talk—I felt her questions in the way she looked at me. But my anger was a thrashing beast inside of me, and I'd only make things worse if I stayed.

"I need some space to think."

"About what?"

"Everything, Camilla."

As soon as I said it, she released the bike. "I see."

I had no idea what she was thinking, but from the flinch in her withdrawal I knew my answer had hurt her all the same. I sighed, trying to tame the violence in my voice. "I'll be home soon. I promise."

I pushed away, backing up a few feet before hitting the engine into action, leaving her in the middle of the driveway as I sped back toward the Row.