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Chapter 22: The Garden of Thorns
The corridors beyond the drawing room were quieter than usual, their velvet-lined silence almost ominous. Kairo walked with steady purpose, his hands tucked in the pockets of his dark tailored vest, shadowed by Lorenzo whose expression gave nothing away.
"Did she say why she wanted to meet?" Kairo asked without turning.
"No," Lorenzo replied. "Only that it was urgent. And private."
That word always carried a specific weight in their world—private could mean a request, a threat, a demand... or a betrayal.
They passed a row of high windows where moonlight slanted in long silvery strips across the marble floor. At the far end of the hallway, a wrought-iron gate stood open, leading into the private garden. Celestia was already there, seated beneath the twisted wisteria arch, her white dress a stark contrast to the wild roses that climbed like fire behind her.
She didn't rise when Kairo approached. She didn't need to. Celestia never moved for anyone unless it was to draw blood—or draw them closer to destruction.
"I hoped you'd come alone," she said, glancing past him.
Kairo gestured silently for Lorenzo to remain at a distance. Then he stepped under the arch and faced her.
"You asked for me. You knew I'd come."
Celestia's crimson lips curled slightly. "I always knew you were loyal. That's what made you dangerous. You're not driven by ambition like the rest of them. You're driven by protection. That makes you willing to burn the world."
"And what do you want from the man who burns the world?" Kairo asked.
She stood, the silk of her dress falling like water around her ankles as she approached him. Her fingers lightly brushed his lapel—an old habit, a trace of what once was.
"I want to remind you," she said, her voice soft, "what we built before she came."
His jaw tensed. "She has a name. Elira."
Celestia's smile didn't waver, but her eyes sharpened. "You used to never correct me. Now you do it for a girl who still flinches when someone raises their voice."
Kairo's voice was low, measured. "Don't mistake her softness for weakness. She's survived things even we can't imagine."
Celestia's expression shifted for just a moment—something unreadable flickered through it. Then she stepped closer, voice a whisper. "You're falling in love with her."
Kairo didn't deny it.
And Celestia—who had seen men beg at her feet, who had built empires beside Kairo, who had once slept in his arms—finally looked... unsteady.
"I came to warn you," she said at last. "There are whispers in Rome. The Inner Circle wants her removed. They see her as a liability. She doesn't belong to this world."
"I'll protect her."
Celestia laughed—a soft, sad thing. "You're powerful, Kairo. But you're not invincible."
"I don't need to be invincible," he said, voice ice now. "I just need to be faster than their bullets."
She stared at him for a long, brittle moment.
"I wonder," she murmured, "how long you'll keep chasing fire before it burns through your veins."
Then she turned and disappeared into the shadowed hedges, leaving only the scent of roses and betrayal behind her.
—
Back in the drawing room, Elira stood at the window, her arms wrapped around herself. The moonlight made her look like a ghost—half here, half in the past.
She didn't know how long she'd been standing there before footsteps approached behind her.
She turned—and exhaled when she saw him.
Kairo.
But there was something different in his eyes now. Something darker. Something more urgent.
He crossed the room in a few long strides and stood in front of her. "Pack a small bag," he said.
Elira blinked. "What?"
"We're leaving. Tonight."
"But—why? What's happening?"
"There's no time. Trust me."
She stared at him, her voice barely a whisper. "I do."
And with those words, he cupped her face with both hands—firm and warm—and kissed her.
Not a kiss of passion.
Not a kiss of ownership.
A promise.
One that said: I will get you out. Even if I stay behind.
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