Page 35 of The Seventh Circle
"It wasn't you who did it," I said, though the words felt hollow even to my ears.
"No. But it was my family. My world." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration I was coming to recognize. "That's what we do, Antonio. That's who we are."
I moved to stand beside him, looking out over the city. "Is it who you are?"
"I don't know anymore." His voice cracked slightly. "I've spent my whole life trying to be what my father wants, whatthe family needs. I tell myself there are lines I won't cross, standards I maintain. But then I watch Paolo do... what he did today, and I say nothing. I do nothing. What does that make me?"
The question hung between us, unanswerable.
"I've done things," I said finally. "Working for your family. Things I'm not proud of."
"But you wouldn't have done what Paolo did."
"No," I agreed. "But does that matter? I stood there and watched it happen. I collected money that pays for men who do worse."
Lorenzo turned to face me fully. In the dim light, his features were shadowed, but I could feel the intensity of his gaze. "Do you regret it?" he asked softly. "What happened between us earlier today?"
The question caught me off guard. "No," I said honestly. "But I wonder if we were just fooling ourselves. This—whatever this is between us—it can't work. Not in this world."
"Perhaps not," he conceded. "But I can't pretend it isn't real."
I stepped closer, unable to help myself. "It's not just about us, Lorenzo. I have my family to think about. After today... I don't know if I can keep them safe by staying in this life, or if I'm putting them in more danger."
"I understand that better than you might think." He sighed. "My father reminded me tonight that I'm to meet with Sophia Vitelli's family tomorrow. They're expecting an arrangement to be made."
A strange pain twisted in my chest. "A marriage."
"A business alliance sealed with a wedding," he corrected bitterly. "I've known it was coming for years."
I turned away, suddenly needing distance. "Then what are we doing here, Lorenzo? What is the point of any of this? You'llmarry your suitable bride, inherit your father's empire, and I'll what? Remain your soldier? Your secret? Until one day I end up like that scout, bleeding out in some alley because that's the price of this life?"
"No." Lorenzo grabbed my arm, his grip painfully tight. "I won't let that happen to you."
"You can't promise that," I said. "No more than I can promise to keep my family safe forever. We don't control this world, Lorenzo. We just try to survive in it."
He released my arm, his shoulders slumping. "Then what do you want to do? End this before it truly begins?"
The thought made my chest ache. Despite everything—the danger, the impossibility of it all—I couldn't imagine walking away from him now.
"I don't know," I admitted. "Part of me says that's the smart choice. But then I think about never seeing you again, never touching you..." I shook my head. "I don't think I'm strong enough for that."
Lorenzo stepped closer again, his hand finding mine in the darkness. "I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you," he said quietly. "Man or woman. And God knows I've tried to fight it. But when I'm with you, I feel... real. Like the rest of my life is the performance, and only these moments are true."
His words resonated through me, echoing my own feelings so precisely it was almost frightening.
"I feel that too," I whispered. "But is feeling real worth risking everything? Your future, my family's safety?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "But I do know I can't go back to pretending. Not now."
I looked down at our joined hands, then back up at his face, half-hidden in shadow. "I keep seeing it," I said. "Paolo, the knife, the man's face as he realized what was happening tohim. The way Paolo smiled." I swallowed hard. "Is that what awaits me someday? Is that what you'll become, after years of this life?"
"No," Lorenzo said fiercely. "Never. I swear it."
"How can you be sure? This world changes people, Lorenzo. It hardens them."
"Because I have you," he said simply. "To remind me what matters. To keep me human."
I wanted to believe him. God help me, I needed to believe him.
