Page 5 of The Shadow King's Brother

Him being out there, still, after all this time—it means we’re not truly safe.

It’s like the city is calling his name, a warning that he’s not done with us yet. Has he fled the country? Is he still watching us?

My phone buzzes on the desk, lighting up with Elio’s name. I don’t need to pick it up to know something’s off.

His voice is sharp, frantic. “Nica!”

“Elio, what’s going on?” My body’s already moving, instinctively reaching for the gun under the desk, but his words hit me before I can act.

“It’s happening. Now. Get to the hospital. Now.”

The line clicks off before I can reply.

A sharp breath catches in my throat.It’s really happening.The thing we’ve all been waiting for. The thing that might finally bring some light into this darkness.

Maria, Elio’s mother, is about to give birth. Fifty years old. It’s risky—so much could go wrong. But she’s bringing life into the world, a new brother or sister for Elio.

And it’s happening now. It’s real.

I feel a flicker of nerves. There’s a new life coming into this mess. No way.

I strap the gun to my back, hiding it under my blouse as I throw on a blazer. It’s summer, and the air is thick and humid, but I barely notice. It’s never too warm to be armed. My heart’s beating faster than it should be.

Chapter2

Elio de Luca

The hospital airhits me like a slap—sterile, sharp, that unmistakable scent of disinfectant that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.I’ve never liked hospitals.The clean, cold atmosphere, the sterile halls. It all feels too clinical, too detached.

But then I look down.

The tiny creature in my arms steals my breath away, instantly quieting the storm of thoughts and fears in my head.

“What are you?” I murmur, more to myself than to anyone else. My fingers trace a line over her soft skin, across her chubby little chin. I stroke her cheek, so smooth, like velvet, and she grunts, shifting slightly under my touch.

I rest my hand on her chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breath, the steady beat of her heart. For a moment, I stop breathing.

I’m holding something real. Something that came from my mother, something connected to me, tied by blood, by family.Famiglia.A living, breathing miracle, fragile as glass.

Maria’s birth went well. But it wasn’t without its complications. She lost blood, more than anyone should, and had to get a transfusion. The doctors say she’ll take time to recover, but for now, she’s stable. I feel gratitude for the fact that she’s still here, that she made it through. Not because I need her, but becausesheneeds her. My new baby sister needs her mother.

I look down at her again. She’s fuckin’ beautiful.

She’s also a reminder of the man I despise the most. Marco Falcone. Even in his death, I hate him with all my heart.

But she’s not him. She doesn’t carry his darkness or violence. She’s something pure. My little sister.

And just like that, something primal surges within me—a protective instinct so deep, it’s almost visceral. I’d burn down the world if it meant keeping her safe, keeping her from harm.

No one, nothing, will touch her. Not while I’m here.

I stare at her tiny face, her delicate features, memorizing every inch—her cheek, her almost translucent fingernails. I look at her, and my chest tightens. It’s a responsibility I’m not sure I’m ready for, but it’s one I’d die for.

She moves her eyebrows, a tiny whimper escaping her lips, and my arms instinctively tighten around her.

How did someone like Marco Falcone create something so... perfect? It’s terrifying. But maybe she’s not just his. Maybe she’s made of my mother. Of me. Of the De Luca blood.

That doesn’t make it better.

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