Leora woke to the scent of cedarwood and the distant rhythm of rain tapping on the windowpane. She blinked against the soft gray light, slowly registering the room, not hers, but his.
Don Allerick's.
She was still fully clothed, curled on the chaise near the fireplace where they had fallen into an uneasy sleep after hours of raw conversation. He hadn't spoken much after she confessed her guilt about Maren. He only listened, and for once, didn't offer orders or threats—just silence.
The kind of silence that wrapped itself around wounds instead of pouring salt into them.
The bed behind her was empty, but she heard him moving beyond the partition.
She sat up, running a hand through her tangled hair. Her heart felt heavy yet grounded. Something between them had shifted.
A door creaked open. Allerick emerged, dressed in his usual black, hair damp, face unreadable. He paused when he saw her awake.
"I didn't mean to stay," she said.
"I didn't mean for you to leave," he replied simply.
There was no warmth in his tone, but no venom either. Just a steady calm that startled her more than rage ever could.
"You said last night I was a variable," she murmured. "But I need to know… if you regret letting me into this world."
Allerick met her eyes. "I regret a lot of things. But not that."
She stood slowly, brushing the wrinkles from her shirt. "Then stop pushing me away. If you want my loyalty, you have it. But I need to understand what I'm standing in."
He studied her in the dim light. "You'll get your answers. But I don't think you'll like them."
"I'm not here because I like things," she said. "I'm here because I have no other choice."
Allerick gave a small nod. "Then it's time you saw what loyalty really costs."
The drive to the warehouse was quiet. Leora sat beside Allerick in the backseat of the armored car, eyes fixed on the passing streets. They left the elegance of the Moretti estate far behind, plunging into the heart of the city's decay, the true battlefield of mafia empires.
When they arrived, the scent of rust, sweat, and old oil choked the air.
Inside, a man was tied to a chair. His face was battered, one eye swollen shut. He looked up as they entered, bloodied lips twitching into something like a smirk.
Leora stiffened.
"Who is he?" she asked quietly.
"Paolo Santino. An accountant for your father's drug ring. He's been skimming off the top and feeding intel to the authorities."
Leora's stomach dropped. "And you brought me here to what… watch him die?"
"No," Allerick said coldly. "I brought you here so you understand what betrayal buys in our world."
He turned to his lieutenant. "Bring him in."
Another man was dragged forward, a boy, barely out of his teens, with the same dark curls as the one in the chair. Paolo's eyes went wide.
"Leave him alone!" he barked, struggling.
"Your son, isn't he?" Allerick asked.
Paolo didn't answer.
"Funny thing about blood," Allerick said softly. "It always finds its way to the knife's edge."
Leora stepped forward, heart pounding. "Stop."
Allerick looked at her. "You said you wanted to understand. This is the world you asked to enter."
"I asked to be your wife. Not your executioner."
"Then decide," he said, voice sharp. "If he lives, we risk the leak spreading. If we kill him, it sends a message. Tell me, Leora, what do you choose?"
Her throat dried. Her hands trembled. The boy's eyes were pleading.
"I..."
"Silence!" Paolo shouted. "I did it! Not him. I did it alone."
"He's not the one we're punishing," Allerick said coldly. "You are."
And then, like something from a nightmare, Allerick placed a pistol on the table between them.
"Pick it up," he told Leora.
She stared at it.
"You said you'd stand by me. Then show me."
The room spun. Her vision narrowed. The boy was crying now, begging under his breath.
Leora's hand hovered over the weapon. Her fingers brushed the cold metal. Her entire body screamed to run.
Instead, she turned to Allerick, voice shaking. "If you want him dead, do it yourself."
A silence fell like thunder.
Allerick didn't move.
Then he turned to his men. "Take the boy out."
Paolo sagged, weeping.
Leora exhaled....but too soon.
Allerick picked up the gun and shot Paolo once, clean through the temple.
Blood spattered the floor. The echo of the gunshot rang for miles in her skull.
She didn't scream.
She didn't flinch.
She just watched as the body slumped, lifeless.
Allerick looked at her. "You spared the innocent. That's your mercy. I punished the guilty. That's my justice."
Leora's breath was ragged. "And that's how you sleep at night?"
"No," he said. "That's how I survive."
They didn't speak the entire ride home.
Back at the estate, Leora locked herself in her room and scrubbed at her hands even though there was no blood on them. Her mind spun with images of Paolo, the sound of the shot, the look in the boy's eyes.
She hated Allerick.
She hated how calm he was. How deliberate. How cold.
But more than anything, she hated the tiny part of her that understood why he did it.
Because in this world, mercy could be weakness. And weakness got people killed.
That night, she wandered to the library.
She didn't expect him to be there, but he was.
Sitting in the shadows with a book open on his lap, untouched.
He looked up. "Couldn't sleep?"
"I keep seeing his face."
He closed the book.
"I didn't bring you there to break you," he said. "I brought you so you wouldn't be broken later."
"You think I need to be hardened?"
"No," he said softly. "I think you need to stop believing you're still innocent."
That stung.
"I'm not a monster, Allerick."
"Neither am I," he said. "But we live among them."
She crossed the room slowly, leaning against the armrest of his chair.
"There's blood between us now," she whispered. "Does that mean we're finally bonded?"
Allerick's gaze darkened. "Blood makes you family. Loyalty makes you dangerous."
"And love?"
His voice was barely audible. "That makes you stupid."
She smiled sadly. "Then I guess we're both doomed."