Chapter 43: The Wounds Between Us
The rain had stopped, but its remnants clung to the city like a curse, glistening on iron railings and pooling into reflections that looked far too much like memories.
Kairo sat alone in his office at the Voltteri estate. The room was dim, curtains drawn tight, casting shadows that warped across the leather walls like writhing ghosts. He hadn't slept. Not after what happened at the gala. Not after what Elira said.
"I didn't want to be the girl who falls for her captor... But you made me want to."
Her words had haunted him. They weren't meant to hurt. But they did. Because they were true. And because even though she was finally starting to see him—he wasn't sure he deserved it anymore.
A glass of bourbon sat untouched on the desk, its surface still. His eyes, however, weren't.
They were burning.
The room's silence was shattered when Cassian entered without knocking. His soaked coat suggested urgency. His face confirmed it.
"There's movement on the east front," he said. "Leoranzo's people. They're making contact with former Solerno allies."
Kairo exhaled, slow and sharp. "He's not hiding anymore."
"No. He's accelerating. And there's more..."
Cassian threw a small black flash drive on the table.
"This came through our intercepted channel. It's a video."
Kairo narrowed his eyes. "From who?"
"Leoranzo."
Cassian plugged it into the laptop and stepped back.
The screen flickered to life.
And there he was.
Leoranzo Voltteri, in a maroon three-piece suit, standing on the marble steps of a mansion somewhere unfamiliar. His smile was lazy, aristocratic. The kind of grin that came before a backstab.
"To my dearest cousin Kairo," he began smoothly, "I must say... it's disappointing that it has come to this. But when a crown sits on the wrong head, it must be removed. You've built an empire of fear and silence. And yet, you think love will save you now?"
Kairo's jaw clenched.
Leoranzo tilted his head. "Do you know where your little actress is tonight?"
The screen flickered—then cut to grainy, handheld footage.
Elira.
She was seated in the back of a black car, unconscious. A bruise visible on her temple. Her wrists bound.
Kairo stood up instantly, knocking over the chair.
"She's alive," Cassian said quickly. "That's a recorded clip—not live feed."
"But how the hell did he get close enough to touch her?"
Cassian's voice was grim. "Someone inside helped him."
There was a silence that dropped like a guillotine.
Kairo's fists curled into stone.
"Tell the Sicilians I'm cashing in the favor my father buried thirty years ago. And call Aziel. We don't negotiate with vultures."
Cassian hesitated. "And Elira?"
Kairo didn't blink. "We burn the city down if we have to."
---
The old monastery Kairo had chosen for the hidden base lay carved into the belly of the cliffside—untouched by light, silence sealing its arches like a vow. The candlelit corridors echoed only whispers of those who dared to speak. This was where power was carved not with words, but with restraint.
Elira followed beside Kairo, a few silent steps behind, the faint glow of the lantern in his hand drawing shadows over the ridges of his expression. Something had changed. He hadn't spoken since they left the room. His jaw was tight, the usual confidence in his stride replaced by something slower, heavier.
She knew better than to question him in this mood, but silence had always burned worse than words.
"Kairo…" she whispered, her voice curling in the stale air between them. "You said the files were recovered. But what now?"
He didn't stop walking. "Now I see who bleeds first."
That answer sent a ripple of unease down her spine.
Inside the war chamber—a stone room with arched ceilings, a massive table littered with blueprints and red-pinned maps—Jin-woo was waiting. He stood as they entered, his eyes flickering once to Elira, then resting on Kairo.
"We decrypted most of the external network," Jin-woo said, laying out a folder. "It wasn't just Leoranzo. Celeste had direct contact with some of the council. And…" He hesitated. "One of our inner circle may have been leaking details too."
Kairo's brow barely twitched. But Elira saw it—his fingers curled slightly tighter around the edge of the chair as he sat down.
"Who?" he asked.
Jin-woo looked down. "Dae-hyun."
The name struck the room like thunder. Elira had met Dae-hyun twice—loyal, old-schooled, and a trusted confidant of Kairo since he was seventeen. A man who had taken a bullet once for him.
"No," she said instinctively. "That can't be."
Kairo didn't respond at first. He studied the file in silence, flipping through transcripts of coded messages, time logs, and surveillance images. His face remained carved from ice.
"Bring him here," Kairo said at last, low and final.
---
Ten minutes later, Dae-hyun stood in front of them—disheveled, eyes red as though he'd either cried or drank too much.
Kairo didn't rise. He simply gestured to the seat across from him.
"You've been with me for eleven years," Kairo began quietly. "You've watched me rise from my father's corpse. Tell me why I should believe anything you say now."
Dae-hyun's throat bobbed. "It's not what it looks like—"
"That phrase," Kairo interrupted, leaning forward. "Is the first nail in your coffin."
"I didn't betray you!" Dae-hyun's voice cracked. "I was trying to protect the younger ones—Celeste threatened to expose their locations if I didn't relay insignificant updates to her. I gave her nothing real!"
"But you gave," Kairo snapped, rising now. "You gave her the scent. And that's all she needed to let Leoranzo release the wolves."
Elira flinched at his voice. Not because it was loud—but because it wasn't. It was the terrifying calm Kairo wore only when he was moments away from violence.
"You should've come to me," he added. "You know better."
Dae-hyun fell to his knees. "Please, Boss. I swear—"
But Kairo turned away.
"Elira, step out."
Her heart lurched. "Kairo—"
"Now."
The sound of the heavy door closing behind her felt like a gunshot.
---
The storm that Kairo carried within him was no longer silent.
He stood at the edge of his private war room—a space no one entered without invitation, not even Celeste. Thick mahogany walls lined with security monitors, encrypted ledgers, and red-stained maps whispered secrets from decades past. The air buzzed with old betrayals, ancient blood pacts, and the fresh scent of something far more dangerous—doubt.
Elira was the center of that doubt.
Even now, as she sat on the corner couch of the chamber, knees pulled to her chest, eyes downcast, Kairo couldn't take his eyes off her. Not because of attraction—but because her silence unnerved him.
"Say something," he ordered coldly, his voice the kind that could command death if he willed it.
She slowly raised her head. "I don't know what you want me to say, Kairo."
"You're good at acting innocent," he hissed, stepping forward. "But I've seen spies better than you crack in three seconds."
Her lips parted in disbelief. "You think I'm a spy?"
"You were talking to Mazzoni's man. The one who left a poison trace on our contact in Naples. The cameras don't lie."
Her expression didn't crumble—it shattered. "I wasn't talking to him for your enemies. I was talking to him for mine."
Kairo halted.
The room shrank around them.
"For yours?" he asked, tone deathly quiet now.
Elira swallowed hard. "You think you're the only one being hunted?"
She stood slowly, the fear in her gaze now replaced by something sharper. "You don't know anything about me, Kairo. You know my name and my screen presence. But the real Elira? The one who survived six years in hiding, moving from city to city with a dead man's last name and a target on her back—that girl never stopped running."
He stared at her.
And for a moment, the shadows that ruled him... paused.
"Then tell me the truth." His voice dipped into something softer—wounded curiosity. "Who are you running from?"
She stepped forward, crossing the line she'd never dared cross before. Her fingers brushed against the edge of his suit jacket, but she didn't hold on.
Instead, she whispered, "From a man who wears a crown made of ashes… Just like you."
Silence.
Dead, bone-heavy silence.
And then—the emergency alarm blared.
Kairo turned to the monitors. Red lights pulsed across the compound map. A breach. North wing. Precision strikes.
His men were already moving, voices shouting through comms.
But before Kairo could even move toward the control panel, Elira's hand gripped his wrist tightly.
"They've come for me," she whispered.
"And now, they know I'm with you."
---
Kairo didn't need to ask who "they" were.
The coldness in Elira's eyes—the sharp, unshakable terror buried beneath her calm—was answer enough. Whoever was after her had just declared war on him, too.
"Kai—"
A voice cracked over the intercom. Luca's. "North wing breach confirmed. No IDs, but they're not one of ours. Tactical entry, military precision—high-level."
"Seal the entire lower floor," Kairo ordered. "No one in or out unless they carry a vault-grade clearance."
Elira's grip on his wrist tightened for a moment, as if she feared the second she let go, she'd vanish—be taken.
Kairo felt the strange sensation again. A protective instinct he despised. A weakness.
He shook her off—not violently, but firmly. "You stay behind me. Don't speak. Don't move unless I say so."
Elira nodded, silent.
They moved fast—through hidden corridors Kairo himself had built when he inherited the Spectre estate. Every wall had secrets, and every door could become a tomb. The war room locked behind them, magnetic bolts slamming shut with a hiss.
Gunfire cracked in the distance—short, efficient bursts. No screaming. These weren't amateurs. Whoever had come for Elira was trained to kill and disappear.
They reached the central atrium.
Sleek black marble, blood-red stained glass, and in the center—Celeste.
She stood beside Luca and three of Kairo's elite, gun in hand, lips twisted in a fury rarely seen. Her eyes met Kairo's. "It's not a hit. It's a message."
"What kind of message?" he asked, already pulling Elira behind a marble column.
Celeste crouched beside the body on the floor—a masked man, throat slit clean, no gunfire around him. Almost like he'd been left there. His hand still clutched something—a folded page, scorched at the edges, damp with blood.
She opened it and read aloud:
> The girl was ours. You took her.
Now you'll bleed where it hurts the most.
- R.
Kairo's jaw clenched. "R."
Celeste whispered, "Ravello."
Elira inhaled sharply. "He found me."
Kairo turned to her. "Who is Ravello?"
But before she could answer—glass shattered above.
A small drone flew down, emitting static. It hovered mid-air for three seconds before projecting a hologram—grainy, grey, and personal.
A man with a serpent tattoo along his throat, eyes ink-black, smile crooked and cruel.
"Elira," he said smoothly, voice dripping with venom. "Come home before more of your new friends die. Or better yet... bring the prince with you."
Kairo's eyes narrowed.
"You have twenty-four hours."
The projection fizzled, and the drone self-destructed in a flash of sparks.
Silence.
Elira's knees buckled. Kairo caught her before she hit the floor.
"He was supposed to be dead," she whispered.
Kairo's voice was ice. "So were a lot of monsters."
And then, softly—but only for her—he added: "But if he thinks he can drag you back into hell, Elira… he hasn't met the devil he's up against."
---
The car stopped outside the Voltteri estate, but neither Elira nor Kairo moved immediately.
She sat in the seat beside him, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her head bowed slightly. Kairo stared ahead at the gates, lit up by the estate's golden floodlights. The silence between them wasn't awkward—it was dense. Grief. Guilt. Rage. All mixed into one thick fog.
Kairo broke it first.
"I shouldn't have brought you into this," he said hoarsely. "But I did. And now I have to make sure you survive it."
Elira finally turned toward him, her expression unreadable. "You didn't bring me into it, Kairo. I chose to stay."
He looked at her now, as if daring to believe her, but the pain etched on his features made it clear—trust didn't come easy to a man who'd been raised by betrayal.
"I can't give you safety," he said. "Only fire. Blood. And enemies that wear my last name."
"You can't promise me peace," she said quietly, "but don't you dare push me away under the pretense of protecting me. I already made my choice."
Kairo's jaw tensed. "You don't understand what Leoranzo is capable of."
"I don't care."
"Elira—"
"I don't care," she snapped. Her voice cracked, her hands trembling. "Stop treating me like I'm fragile. I might not know your world, but I know myself. And I know you."
Kairo's hand twitched—almost like he wanted to reach out, to hold her, to pull her into him and let all the walls collapse. But instead, he opened the door and stepped out.
The moment shattered.
By the time Elira followed, he was already walking toward the estate without looking back.
---
Inside the Voltteri mansion, the staff bowed quickly as Kairo entered, but he barely acknowledged them. Elira's heels clicked behind him on the marble floor, echoing like warnings down the grand hallway.
"Where's Nicolo?" he asked his head of security.
"Still tracking Leoranzo's informants. There's a leak from the inner circle—possibly someone embedded since before your father's death."
Kairo's face hardened. "Seal the west wing. Triple security at every access point. I want no one unaccounted for in this house."
"And Elira?"
His gaze shifted momentarily. "She stays in my quarters. No one touches her. No one speaks to her without my permission."
The man nodded and left.
Kairo turned back to Elira, whose breath hitched at his command. "You're putting me under watch?"
"I'm putting you under my protection."
Elira stepped closer, voice low. "Then at least don't cage me, Kairo. Don't lock me away."
His lips parted, and for a fleeting moment, the fury in his gaze dulled. "I've never wanted to cage you."
"But you're still trying to hide me."
"No," he said, barely above a whisper. "I'm trying not to lose you."
---
That night, sleep eluded both of them.
Elira sat by the floor-to-ceiling window in Kairo's room, wrapped in one of his shirts, watching the city lights blink like broken stars. Kairo stood at the far end, reviewing encrypted files sent by Nicolo.
But his eyes kept straying back to her.
She was a silent storm in his life—a quiet fire he never asked for, but now couldn't live without.
And as the night deepened, they both knew something was coming.
Something neither of them were ready for.
---
End of Chapter 43