Page 1 of Bound By Honor

1

AURORA POV

Every clink of silverware feels like a chain tightening around my throat. This is not a dinner; it’s a display of power disguised as a family gathering.

The grand dining room suffocates me with its opulence—crystal chandeliers casting shadows that dance across the mahogany table, the scent of aged wine mingling with lingering cigar smoke. My brothers occupy their spaces like kings at court, but I’m drowning in the silence between their words.

From my peripheral vision, I catch Luciano’s tall figure as he moves silently through the connecting room, pausing briefly at Dominic’s shoulder to whisper something in his ear. My brother’s expression darkens, and Luciano withdraws to the shadows again, but not before his gaze catches mine for a fraction of a second.

Even that brief contact sends a shiver down my spine, a treacherous reminder of how his mere presence affects me. I recognize the danger he represents, yet my body craves it anyway.

“Aurora.” Dominic’s voice cuts through the quiet like a blade. “You missed the charity gala last weekend.”

The wine turns bitter in my mouth at Dominic’s words. My fingers tremble against the crystal stem, and I force them still, knowing he tracks every sign of weakness.

I grip my fork tighter, the metal cool against my palm. “I was feeling unwell.”

“Bullshit.” He sets down his wine glass with deliberate precision. “You were seen at that art gallery opening downtown.”

“Ah, our little rebel princess strikes again,” Enzo chimes in, his smile sharp beneath its charm. “Though I have to admit, choosing culture over mindless social climbing? That’s almost respectable.”

Marco’s quiet scoff draws my attention. He hasn’t spoken all evening, but his dark eyes miss nothing. The weight of their combined scrutiny makes my skin prickle.

“The gallery was educational,” I counter, lifting my chin. “Unlike watching socialites compete for marriage prospects.”

“The Rossi family was there,” Dominic says, his voice carrying a weight that makes me still. “Their eldest son asked about you specifically.”

The Rossis—our fiercest rivals—have been gunning our men down at the central docks for weeks now. Each day brings news of another ambush or another body. Just yesterday, we lost two more soldiers.

I catch the shadows under Dominic’s eyes, the new lines etched around his mouth. He hasn’t slept properly since the war started, carrying each death like a personal failure.

The tension between our families has turned Chicago’s underworld into a powder keg, and now they’re asking about me?

The implication hangs heavy in the air—their interest is both a threat and an opportunity. One wrong move could escalate the brewing war, but the right one... I see the calculation inDominic’s eyes, mixed with a weariness I’m not used to seeing in my strongest brother.

A marriage alliance could end the bloodshed, secure the docks, and save our men. He’s trying to be the leader Mamma trained him to be—protecting our family while minimizing the bloodshed. My rebellion isn’t just about my freedom anymore; it’s about the delicate balance of power my brothers maintain, the lives hanging in the balance.

“Marriage prospects are exactly what you should be considering,” Dominic continues, his tone hardening even as his fingers trace the rim of his wine glass—a tell he only shows when the burden of command weighs heaviest. “You’re twenty-one, Aurora. It’s time you embraced your responsibilities to this family.”

The words hit like a physical blow. “My responsibilities? You mean being paraded around like a prize mare at auction?”

“Watch your tone,” Marco warns, finally breaking his silence.

“Or what?” Heat floods my cheeks. “You’ll ground me? Lock me in my tower? Oh wait, you already do that.”

Enzo leans forward, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Come now,sorella. The tower has excellent wifi. And those guards? They’re for your protection.”

“Protection from what?” I demand. “You never tell me anything real. It’s all secrets and shadows and‘trust us, we know best.’”

“Because we do know best,” Dominic’s voice drops lower, his tone dangerous. “There are things you don’t understand?—“

“Then help me understand!” The words explode from me, echoing off the walls. “I’m not a child anymore, Dom. I deserve to know what’s really happening in this family.”

A heavy silence falls. Dominic exchanges glances with Marco, something unspoken passing between them. Even Enzo’s perpetual smirk fades.

“Some things,” Dominic finally says, “are better left buried.”

The phrase sends a chill down my spine. “What things?”

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