Page 6 of The Shadow King's Brother

Shit.

And Vinny...

I haven’t gotten any reports on him for a while, but that doesn’t mean he’s gone. He’s still out there, somewhere. A loose end, with a criminal record and a history of hurting the people I care about—hurting Nica.

I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know what he’s planning. But the fact that I don’t know makes it worse. Vinny has always been dangerous, and now, I don’t know if he’s unpredictable or just lying in wait.

Heavy security’s around me, a wall of dark suits and hard eyes. All because of me. Or rather, because I’m a target. My enemies are everywhere. But now, this isn’t just about me. It’s about her. Her safety.

And I won’t fuck it up. Not again.

“Grunt, grunt.” The baby makes a soft noise, pulling me back from my thoughts.

“Welcome, baby sister,” I whisper, brushing a kiss against her tiny forehead. “You hungry?”

I look from her tiny face to my mother in the hospital bed. Her face is pale, almost translucent, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, strands of it escaping and curling around her ears.

I haven’t seen her like this… so un-perfect in years. She’s always been power suits, De Luca diamonds, and bright red lipstick. Like this, she looks almost normal,almosthuman.

In the last months, she’s mostly been secluded at our house, in her room, or working in the back gardens, sleeping, eating, resting, but guarded and protected at all times by my security detail, mainly Gio.

The baby is so light in my arms, barely more than warmth and breath wrapped in soft blue cotton. She stirs. I glance down at her, at the fragile life cradled against me. Her lashes flutter, her mouth forming the faintest pout.

So small. So breakable.

Behind me, my mother shifts in the bed, and my jaw tightens.

I should hate her. I do hate her. For what she did to my father, for the lies, for the betrayal that shattered the person I used to be. But then I look down at this tiny, perfect thing in my arms, and I can’t deny what she’s done—she’s given my sister life.

I swallow hard, forcing my voice steady. “Mama.” The word sticks in my throat like something I shouldn’t say anymore, like a wound that’s never quite healed.

She looks drained, her face drawn. Her eyes—those same eyes that watched my father get shot—flicker to mine, and something inside me wavers.

I step closer, slow, deliberate. Careful, like this whole moment might crack if I move too fast. “Are you okay?”

She exhales, slow and uneven. “Yes,” she murmurs. “Just exhausted, that’s all.” Her fingers tremble as she lifts a hand to her forehead, wiping away the sheen of sweat.

Her gaze shifts, locking onto the baby in my arms. A small, shaky inhale. Her lips part like she’s searching for words that won’t come.

Then, quietly. “Is she… healthy, Elio?”

I nod, my hand gently caressing the baby’s back. “She looks fuckin’ strong to me,” I say, a small, almost involuntary smile tugging at my lips. “A De Luca.”

This little girl already has the De Luca fire in her blood. I feel it in the way she breathes, the way she rests against me.

My mother’s eyes light up, looking back at the baby. “Good,” she breathes. “I want to name her…” she pauses, taking a moment like she’s weighing the name in her mind. “Celeste…”

I tilt my head. “Celeste.” The name rolls off my tongue like a smooth, melodic sound. Celeste. It’s not a name that I’m necessarily opposed to. I like it—it’s strong, but also gentle, just like the girl in my arms.

“Celeste means divine,” she says. “Like sent from above. From Alana, to protect all of us.” Her eyes well up.

The ache of remembering Alana, the loss that lingers in the air between us.

I nod slowly, my eyes darkening as I think about Alana. I look down at Celeste, her face peaceful, innocent.

“It’s perfect...” I whisper. Celeste. I repeat the name in my head, and I can almost feel Alana’s presence in the room, like she’s watching over us, watching over her sister. Maybe this little girl is a gift. Maybe she’s the one who can escape the De Luca name, escape the violence, the darkness that has followed us for so long.

Maybe, just maybe, Celeste can live the life Alana never got to have.

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