Page 105 of Goldflame

“Don’t ever fucking say that again!”

She gasps, shrinking away as much as she can. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her voice holds that desperation it used to hold every time she spoke to Lucian.

I see how scared she is of me, really scared.

Am I really like him?

Something breaks deep down in my core. My grip loosens as everything spills out in a rush of raw emotion. I pull her into an embrace, crying against her shoulder and mumbling apologies while she stiffens under my touch.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I whisper.

Slowly, she softens enough to pat my back, though there’s wariness in every motion.

We stand like that for too long or not long enough until I feel drained of everything inside me except whiskey and regret.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

AURELIA

Blood crusts beneath my fingernails, flaking off in tiny crimson crescents each time I flex my hands against the leather seat. The metallic scent of it lingers inside Adrian’s car—a brutal perfume that reminds me with each breath what we’ve done tonight.

What we’ve accomplished.

DeSean Smith is gone. Another name crossed off my list. Another monster who hurt my mother was sent to the depths where he belongs.

“You’re quiet,” Adrian says, his voice like velvet in the darkness. His profile is sharp against the passing streetlights, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift. Blood spatters his crisp white shirt, most of it not his.

I glance down at my own clothes. My blouse is torn at the shoulder, stained beyond salvation. “Just processing,” I answer.

The plan had been seamless because the information from that poker game led us straight to our target.DeSean’s Lake Washington hideout had good security, but even the best systems have weaknesses.

I’d played my part perfectly. The damsel with car trouble, standing helplessly at his gate. The guards had hesitated just long enough so Adrian could make his move.

The memory of what followed sends a shiver through me. Not fear but excitement.

With the front gate security gone, we slipped onto the property and found DeSean sitting on a back patio reading. We had the advantage of surprise but he hadn’t gone easily. He’d fought, screamed, bargained. But some debts can only be paid in blood.

I remember the weight of the knife in my hand. The way Adrian moved with a killer’s instincts, taking down any remaining guards who tried to interfere. Then there was the satisfaction of seeing DeSean’s shock when he realized who I was.

“Serafina’s daughter,” he’d said, recognition dawning in his eyes seconds before Adrian’s blade found his throat.

The drive to the dock had been silent and tense and both of us were exhausted. We had five bodies to get rid of, DeSean’s and the four guards. Adrian had a boat prepared, so we went out to a secluded area of the ocean where the bodies would be carried away by underwater currents. They sank one by one into the dark waves with barely a ripple. Adrian’s contacts would handle the rest—making it seem like DeSean had simply fled the country with his security to escape federal prosecution.

“Are you okay?” Adrian asks now, his eyes briefly leaving the road to search my face.

I’m surprised to find myself smiling. “Better than okay.”

He reaches over, his bloodstained fingers intertwining with mine. My heart sings. A decade together, and we’d never been this close. This honest. This real.

“You were magnificent,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting. “The way you handled him… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Heat blooms in my chest at his praise. With Julian, violence always felt like surrender—like giving in to something destructive. With Adrian, it feels like clarity.

Though I’m still questioning the true weight of all this revenge.

We pull into Lorenzo’s driveway, the mansion looming against the starlit sky. Adrian cuts the engine, but neither of us moves to exit the car.

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