Page 6 of Bound By Honor

The scotch glass shatters in my grip, amber liquid mixing with blood. In our world, the dead don’t stay buried. And ghosts... ghosts have a way of dragging every careful plan into chaos.

I look down at my bleeding hand, watching red droplets fall on the imported marble. Control is an illusion. And the storm? It’s already here.

In the reflection of the window, I catch a glimpse of movement in the building across the street—a shadow where there shouldn’t be one. Alessandro’s return isn’t just about family secrets. He’s declaring war, and Aurora... Aurora might be his first target.

3

AURORA POV

He leans back in the leather armchair, glass in hand, spinning a tale so compelling even I almost believe it. My stomach twists, a tight knot of unease blooming as I study the way his fingers wrap possessively around the glass. The library’s warmth wraps around us like a cocoon, masking the predatory grace beneath Alessandro’s charm.

“Tell me about the night you disappeared.” The words slip out before I can stop them, hanging in the thick air between us.

Alessandro’s smile doesn’t waver, but something flickers in his eyes—there and gone so fast I almost miss it. He swirls the amber liquid in his crystal glass, looking every bit the prodigal son returned.

“Ah, direct as always,piccola. You remind me of myself at your age.” He leans forward, moonlight from the library windows casting shadows across his face. “It’s not a pleasant story.”

“I’m not looking for pleasant.” I meet his gaze steadily. “I’m looking for truth.”

He chuckles, the sound warm yet somehow hollow. “Truth is rarely simple in our world, wouldn’t you agree?”

The leather chair creaks as he settles back, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. The library feels smaller suddenly, despite its towering shelves and vaulted ceiling. The scent of aged leather and paper mingles with his expensive cologne—a combination that should be comforting but instead sets my nerves on edge.

“I was betrayed,” he says finally. “Left for dead in a Rossi warehouse while our own men retreated.” His voice carries just the right amount of pain, perfectly measured. “The official story was that I died in the crossfire. Easier that way, I suppose.”

“But you survived.”

“Obviously.” That smile again, sharp as broken glass. “Though sometimes I wonder if the man who walked out of that warehouse was the same one who walked in.”

The grandfather clock ticks heavily in the corner, marking seconds that feel stretched thin with tension. I study his face, trying to reconcile this polished stranger with the brother Luciano lost. Something doesn’t add up.

“You mentioned being in Milan,” I say carefully. “But earlier, at dinner, you said Rome.”

His recovery is seamless. “Ah, I moved between cities. Survival meant staying mobile.” He stands, moving to the window with fluid grace. “The years blur together sometimes.”

The moonlight catches his reflection in the glass, doubling his image. For a moment, I see two Alessandros—the charming survivor and something darker lurking beneath.

“And now you’re back,” I press. “Why?”

He leans in slightly, the warmth of his confidence wrapping around us like a cloak. “I walked away once, wanting to escape the violence and betrayal, but no one truly leaves the mafia.La famigliahas a way of pulling you back, even when you think you’re free. Blood ties are stronger than any silence; they echo in ways you can’t ignore.”

“Family calls to family,cara.” His eyes meet mine in the reflection. “Besides, I heard interesting whispers about changes here. About you, about Luciano...”

My pulse jumps at Luciano’s name, heat flooding my cheeks. My fingers tremble against my glass, and I force them still, knowing Alessandro tracks every reaction with those calculating eyes.

“What about him?”

Alessandro turns, his expression almost pitying. “He’s changed since I knew him. Harder. More... constrained.” A pause. “Tell me, does he still carry that photograph of his dead wife?”

“I wouldn’t know.” The words come out sharper than intended.

“No?” His smile turns knowing. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

The library door opens before I can respond. Luciano himself steps in, freezing momentarily at the tableau before him. The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees.

“Alessandro.” Luciano’s voice could cut diamond. “I believe Dominic was looking for you.”

“Was he now?” Alessandro doesn’t move. “Aurora and I were just discussing old times. Family history, you might say.”

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