Marco's POV
They gave me a room at the estate, it was large, cold and quiet, a thick carpet muffled every step, no windows in the hallway, only long mirrors, the kind that reflect a version of you you'd rather not meet.I stood in front of one that first night, trying to find the boy my mother raised, yet he wasn't there, just the shadow of him, leaner, colder, quieter, that child soul was left beside the hospital bed, and I traded it for power.
Dante didn't ask questions, he never once said Elina's name, that was how I knew he understood what my return meant, there were no congratulations, no welcome back, just files, orders, ink, guns, names, silence, I became what he always wanted.
Sharp. Controlled. Empty.
Still, beneath every word I spoke, behind every lie I told, there was one name humming like a wound inside my chest, Elina, sometimes I whispered it when no one was around, just to make sure it still meant something. Time passed, and work came fast, and just like that I was sitting in meetings, memorizing ledgers and identifying the weak spots in the rival network.
"You're quick," Dante said once.
I didn't answer because I wasn't proud, I was surviving, some nights I sat in my room and stared at the pages of the sketchbook I couldn't bring myself to fill no more. I used to draw Elina's hands when she held her tea, her lips when she bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes when she stared at the sky like it owed her something, yet now… I couldn't remember the exact shade of her voice, and that terrified me more than any gun.
The letter I wrote her, the one I left in her hand, tucked inside my coat, folded a hundred times, nearly torn through.
Be safe, little star.
– M.
That was the last time I used my name, now, they called me "figlio" son, or worse, "heir", they didn't know that every time someone said it, my mother's voice died a little more in my head.
Dante tested me in small ways, a man owed us money, I didn't flinch when I broke his fingers, another one leaked information, I handled it as well, another woman flirted with me in a bar downtown, I ignored her, drank my whiskey, and left her alone, because even in a world built on forgetting… I remembered love, or what was left of it.
Weeks later, Dante sat across from me in his office, the room smelled like smoke and oak, heavy, and old.
"You're ready," he said.
"For what?"
"To lead."
I looked him dead in the eye and said nothing, because my silence was his answer, but in my mind, I was with her, back in Florence, back in the morning light, back in a small apartment that smelled like coffee and healing and it burned.
Like a ghost in my chest.
Like a sun I could no longer stare at.
Like love, buried alive.
Days passed, my world kept getting darker every single day, until that night, it started with water, a soft drizzle at first, falling from a sky I couldn't see, just endless gray above me, like the world had forgotten how to end, I was standing in the middle of a quiet street, empty buildings towered on either side, windows like blank eyes watching me, the ground was slick, shining under my boots, I didn't know how I got there and then I heard it.
Laughter.
Light, familiar, woven from memory. I turned, and there she was, Elina, wearing a white dress that clung to her skin, soaked through, translucent like mist, her hair was tangled, her feet bare, and she spun slowly in the rain, arms open like she was catching the sky, she looked so alive it hurt.
I called her name.
"Elina!"
She didn't turn, just kept spinning, dancing, like the world was hers, I ran to her, my feet heavy, while the rain growing harder, and just for that moment she stopped, then stared at me with a smile, still it it wasn't the smile I remembered but an empty and a polite one, the kind you give to a stranger who holds the door open, not the one you give when you're in love, neither in recognition.
"Elina," I breathed, stepping closer. "It's me. I'm here."
She tilted her head, curious, gentle, but her eyes… blank.
"You know me," I said, more desperate now. "You do. Please."
She blinked slowly like I was a line in a book she almost remembered, just for her to reach me out, barely, to whispered something that I couldn't hear.
"What did you say?" I said as I leaned in.
But before she could answer, she began to fade, first her outline softened, then her dress dissolved like smoke in water, and her eyes, God, those eyes, they stayed locked on mine until the very last second, till she was gone and I was alone all over again.
I woke up gasping, the room dark, and cold, I honestly didn't know if I was sweating or freezing, I sat up rubbing my hands over my face, trying to catch my breath, but it wouldn't come. that wasn't a memory, but worse than that, that was a beautiful world where she still existed… but not for me.
I couldn't sleep after that, so I pulled out my sketchbook and began to draw her, I tried again and again, ripping page after page, her nose was wrong, her eyes were flat, her mouth didn't carry her silence the way it used to, I couldn't find her anymore, not in my mind, not even in my art, and that's when I knew, she was slipping from me, even here, inside the one place Izac and Dante couldn't touch, her face was disappearing and all I had left was the echo of a name.
Little star.
My life took it rhythm, and it was supposed to be a routine errand, Dante had sent me to meet one of the bankers he'd recently pulled into the fold, nothing urgent, just appearances, a handshake, a warning in a smile, the usual.
Florence had the nerve to look beautiful that morning, blue sky, crisp air, the kind of light that made colors feel louder. I walked along the edge of Piazza Santa Croce, coat collar up, gloves on even though the cold wasn't biting. I kept my head low, my steps quiet, I didn't look at the art students sketching in the corner, or the tourists laughing over gelato they'd regret by sundown.
I kept walking, until I saw her, at first, I didn't believe it, she was crossing the street near the café I used to wait at, where I'd sketch faces I was too afraid to love.
Elina.
Wearing a cream-colored coat, her air down, laughing, she was with someone, Liv, probably, they were holding coffee cups, bumping shoulders, normal, effortless, at that moment, I stopped walking, the time didn't freeze, it didn't need to, because I did, Elina, my Elina, looked… radiant.
There was a calmness to her I hadn't seen in the days we shared, she looked like a person who slept through the night, who woke up to a life she understood, she looked like someone safe. My throat tightened, and I knew I shouldn't stare, but how could I not? My eyes were starving while my body remembered her better than my mind ever could, every step she took triggered a thousand quiet earthquakes inside me.
And then… She turned, just enough for our eyes to meet, it lasted a second or less, maybe, brown eyes, open and clear, as she looked at me like I was anyone else, to turn back to Liv, smiling again, talking about something small, probably something warm and harmless, nothing like the ruins we left behind, and just like that she kept walking.
She didn't stop, didn't flinch, and didn't remember me, for me I just stood there for a long time after her vanishing into the crowd. The wind shifted, a child screamed somewhere in the distance, but I was still frozen, that was her.
That was my Elina.
And she had no idea who I was.
Part of me wanted to run to her, fall to my knees and scream the truth. You knew me. You saved me. You were my light when the world was nothing but concrete and fire, but what right did I have?
She was healing, without me, she'd built a life again, but this time without the shadow of a man like me pulling her into danger, and she didn't need memory to feel safe, she needed distance, and maybe, just maybe that was what love meant.
Not showing up.
Not holding on.
But letting her walk right past you… and not calling her name.
I turned the corner, tucked my hands in my coat, and disappeared into the city, just before I did, I whispered it under my breath, so soft I barely heard it.
"Be safe, little star."