Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

AURORA

A s soon as he walks out of my house, I lock the doors. I walk back to the couch and practically fall onto it, clutching my rapidly pounding heart. I tell myself that I did all right. I held my own against him.

Despite how much it scared me to be back in his presence, to be sucked into that intense blue gaze and feel like I could scarcely breathe, I still managed to pretend otherwise. I'm sure he was surprised. He probably expected me to be that same girl he grew up with. The one that was entirely at his mercy. The one that would have done anything he asked.

But she died that day ten years ago. He killed her. And he doesn't even know it. My feelings toward Nico weren't the only things I had to pretend away, however.

My heart continues to pound as I remember what he said about Valerio's impending death. I don't hate my father. I never really have. What I feel for him is nothing. With Nico, it takes a lot of energy to convince myself that I don't give a fuck about him. But with Valerio Maranzano, there has never been any doubt in my mind that I feel nothing toward him.

A long time ago, my sister and I decided we didn't have a father. And Valerio seemed happy enough to let us go on believing that. He let us go and we haven't looked back since then.

He's never been much of a father to us anyway. So, Nico showing up to convince me to see him in his final days is ridiculous. What would I even say to him? Is he even in a state to listen to me? No, I have no reason to visit Valerio.

Right now, I'm sure he's surrounded by the dozens of men he used to lord over. His people, his real family. The only thing he ever really cared about was power. I hope he chokes on it on the way to hell.

I'm not sure how long I sit there thinking about Valerio, thinking about Nico. But eventually, it becomes too much. I've always hated the silence. Silence can be so stifling at times, and right now, the silence in my apartment is driving me crazy.

I want nothing more than to talk to my sister, to tell her what's going on. She would understand. More than anyone else. But she's currently in the air. And I want her to already be settled in Brazil before I break the news. I'm a little uneasy about Nico knowing her location, but I have to believe he won't do anything to her unless provoked.

Lucia has to remain safe. That's all I care about.

After a couple more minutes pass, I get to my feet, walking toward my kitchen.

"Fuck this," I mutter to myself, rifling through my cupboards until I find a bottle of vodka I had hidden away for a rainy day.

I'm not a very big fan of drinking. I usually hate the way it makes me feel. Especially the aftermath. But today isn't simply a rainy day. It's downright storming. I grab the bottle before putting on comfortable slippers and heading out my front door. I lock the door behind me, the sound of the click echoing in the quiet hallway.

I walk toward the elevator, pressing the call button, and waiting for the doors to open. I step in, the subtle scent of cleaning solution lingering in the air. I press the button for the seventh floor, waiting as it begins its ascent. It opens once again with a soft ding, revealing a similar hallway to the one I just left.

I walk a few more steps, stopping in front of a door painted a deep, sophisticated blue, with a brass plaque showcasing the apartment number. There's a black keypad a lot like mine beside the door handle. I hold the bottle in one hand and with my other, I input the passcode with practiced ease.

As soon as I walk through the door, I'm enveloped with the scent of flowers, courtesy of the various potted flower arrangements lining the entryway. I shake my head at the sight of them, wondering about my friend's weird habits.

I find Sabrina lying on her living room couch. She's got her gaze fixed on the entryway. She relaxes at the sight of me. I relax too, feeling at ease for the first time since Nico showed up at my door.

"Any particular reason why you're breaking into my house at ten p.m.?" Sabrina asks coolly, running a hand through her long auburn hair.

Her living room is mostly dark, the brightest light coming from the TV, which is playing one of those dull romance films she seems to enjoy. She watches them to fall asleep, and judging by the dullness of her blue eyes, she was half asleep already. I feel guilty, but I really needed company.

I've known Sabrina for ten years. We've been practically inseparable since we met in college, and I love her like a sister. Despite that, though, she doesn't know who I really am. So I can't very well tell her what's really going on. I settle for the best excuse I can think of.

"I ended things with Killian," I say, remembering that fact at the exact moment the words leave my lips.

Sabrina's arches an eyebrow. "Good riddance. You were always better than that dickhead. Now tell me why you're really here. And what's with the booze? I know that's not because of Killian."

I sigh. Sometimes, it's really annoying that she knows me so well. She makes room for me on the couch, and I take a seat beside her, placing the bottle on the coffee table in front of us.

"Can't I just want to drink my sorrows away for one night?"

Sabrina arches an eyebrow. "What sorrows?"

Damn it, she's really giving me a hard time. I thought it'd be easier for me to convince her to do this with me.

"The sorrows of…" I search for a compelling answer. "Life?" I offer half-heartedly.

Sabrina snorts. "You're ridiculous. But I'm not going to question you too much because that vodka's looking more appealing by the second."

I roll my eyes. My best friend, the alcoholic, ladies and gentlemen. She's not actually addicted, though. Sabrina does possess some measure of self-control. I've just never seen her turn down an opportunity to drink before, which is how I knew to come here.

She gets to her feet to get some glasses from a cupboard, and my eyes settle on the large flat-screen TV in front of me. It's some sort of Turkish drama that's playing on the screen. And the characters are apparently in the middle of a breakup. The girl is bawling, damn near begging the guy not to leave her, which is pretty pathetic.

I don't hesitate to tell Sabrina that when she gets back.

"People do desperate things when they're in love," my best friend argues. "Plus, she's in pain. I don't think she realizes how pathetic she looks."

At least she agrees with me that it's pathetic.

"If it hurts so much, then it's not worth it in the first place," I state.

Sabrina smiles, looking at me sideways, "Your opinions don't matter in this situation because you've never loved anyone like that before."

"And I never will," I grit out.

What I really I want to say is, "What if I have and I know never to make that mistake again?"

"Anyway," Sabrina drawls, pouring the vodka into two glasses. She hands me one and settles down into the couch. "Since we're having a pity party, I might as well let you know that I lost the patient."

I gasp softly. "Oh no."

She nods, downing her glass in one shot. "She fought valiantly and died with honor."

"You've definitely been watching too much of Game of Thrones ," I mutter, shaking my head. "But seriously though, the dog died?"

Sabrina's a vet. In addition to her love of flowers and anything to do with nature, she also loves animals. So much so, that she ventured into a career solely dedicated to taking care of them.

"Yeah. Katie has breathed her last."

Despite the way she's trying to pass it off as a joke, I know she's bothered by the dog's death. She told me a couple of days ago that it came in with some sort of virus that had completely weakened it. I know she tried her best to save it.

"I'm sorry, Sab," I say softly.

"I'm okay," she mumbles, pouring another glass of vodka.

She stares pointedly at the glass in my hand, which I still haven't emptied. I laugh softly before downing it and requesting she pour me another. I'll have a raging headache tomorrow morning and will feel awful. But at least for now, the voices in my head are quiet.

At least now I'm not thinking about him anymore.

As soon as I wake up the next morning, I call my sister.

"He's dying?" she asks softly.

I've only just finished telling her about Nico's visit and the news he had to share. A part of me considered not telling her because I didn't want her to worry. But that wouldn't be fair. He's her father, too. She deserves to know.

"Yes. According to Nico, he had a heart attack. I don't know the full details of his sickness," I tell her.

"And you don't care," my sister states. I stay silent, confirming that without words. She knows how I feel on matters concerning Valerio. "It just feels so surreal. That he'll be gone. Once he dies, we won't have any parents anymore. We'll have no one."

"Lucia, we haven't had anyone in years," I say gently. "But it's fine if you care. I'd understand. You could even come back to Chicago, see him one last time."

I'm offering her the same choice Nico offered me. Despite the fact that I would prefer it if she didn't step foot in the country for the foreseeable future. Her relationship with Valerio is slightly different from mine. Sure, she walked away from him, the same as I did. She renounced her last name and took a new one. She hasn't spoken to him in years. But when they parted, they did so amicably.

Valerio never really saw us as his daughters. We were more of a responsibility he had no choice in. Lucia has always been okay with that. She's never really cared about his feelings toward us. To her, she'd never had a father in the first place.

She doesn't really remember how it was before our mother died. But I do. And thinking about that time and the father I knew makes me ill. Because he could have been so much more, but he refused to do so.

I let out a breath of relief when Lucia agrees with me that coming back might not be a good idea.

"It'll be too dangerous for me to return. Plus, now that Valerio's dying, who's going to protect us? What are the outfit's plans concerning us?" she says, which is an excellent question.

It's one I've been wondering since Nico's visit. What happens to us now?

"Are you sure, though? It's okay to want to say goodbye, sorella ," I press.

"I'm fine. I said goodbye already ten years ago. And I've made my peace with him."

Good for you, Lucia.

"All right. Like you said, I need to find out what plans have been put in place for us," I state. "I'll gather information, see if laying low and staying off the playing field is still on the cards."

"And if it isn't?" Lucia asks.

I shrug, hating my answer but knowing I have to provide it anyway. So she doesn't worry too much.

"Then I'll leave. I'll come and meet you in Brazil."

I don't tell her that Brazil might not be so safe anyway. I don't mention Nico's threat. I'll take care of it all on my own. She just has to be safe.

"Promise me you won't put yourself in any danger," Lucia says.

I hesitate. We've been in danger all our lives.

"I promise," I finally say.

"Liar. You're such a liar, Rory," she says with a sigh. "Just be careful. Let me know immediately if there's anything I can do to help."

"Will do, lil' sis," I assure her.

"And one more thing," Lucia states. "You and Nico, I don't know what really happened between you two, but he might be your best chance of navigating the outfit."

"You want me to ask him for help?" I scoff.

"I want you to be smart. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. He used to be your friend once, and now you hate him, but that doesn't change the fact that he's back in your life. For better or worse. I don't like it either, but I am sure of one thing."

"Which is?"

"He would never hurt you."

Silence follows that pronouncement. I stare into nothingness and grit my teeth.

"There are many different methods to hurt someone, amore . And Nico is a master at them all."

Four days later, I'm at a store purchasing some materials for a job when my phone dings with a text. From Nico.

Valerio died last night. My breath seizes at that, but I carry on reading the rest of the text .

I've heard regret hurts like a fucking bitch, Aurora. I hope you feel all that pain and more. The funeral's in two days. Last chance to say your goodbyes.

I tighten my hold on my phone, nearly crushing it in my fist as I read his words over and over again. There's really only one thing I can say in reply.

Fuck you, Nico.

He doesn't send any other texts after that, going radio silent. He's already said all he wanted to say.

Despite his stupid text, I don't go to Valerio's funeral. Throughout the day, I only waver once. What makes me waver is remembering that in the past ten years, a substantial sum of money has been wired into both mine and my sisters' accounts at the beginning of each year. We both know it's from our father, but we've never tried to confirm it, and we've also never used it.

But it does prove one thing. That he thought of us. At least once every year, he remembered to wire his daughters money. That's not a symbol of love however. It doesn't prove anything. So even when a voice in my head whispers to go to the funeral, I grit my teeth and stay put.

He's already dead. He's gone and there's no taking anything back.