277

277
Emilia’s POV
I knew something was wrong the second I walked into the house. The energy was different-charged, electric, like the air before a storm. The staff avoided eye contact, moving quickly, their silence heavier than usual. My stomach twisted.
Then I saw him.
Alaric stood in the middle of the living room, dressed in all black, a gun strapped to his side, his expression cold and unreadable.
My heart nearly stopped.
No.
No, no, no.
I stepped forward, my voice sharper than I intended. “Where are you going?”
He didn’t even flinch. Didn’t hesitate.
“To finish what should’ve been done a long time ago.”
I sucked in a shaky breath. I already knew what he meant, but I asked anyway, hoping, praying, I was wrong.
“To kill Alonso.”
A simple statement. Flat. Like he was announcing he was going out for coffee.
Panic clawed up my throat. “Alaric, please-”
“No.” His voice was sharp, final.
I took another step toward him. “You can’t do this.”
“I have to do this.”
“No, you don’t!” I nearly shouted, my chest tightening. “This isn’t justice, Alaric, this is revenge. It won’t change anything.”
His jaw clenched. “It’ll change the fact that he’s still breathing when he shouldn’t be.”
I grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at me. His eyes were wild, dark with rage, but beneath it, I saw something else. Pain. So much pain.
“Alaric,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Killing him won’t bring Dominic back.”
He ripped his arm away. “This isn’t about bringing him back.”
“Then what is it about?!” I demanded. “Because it sure as hell isn’t about me! Or Francesca! Or the life we were supposed to have together!”
That made him pause.
For a split second, something flickered across his face like doubt, hesitation-but it was gone just as fast.
“I have to do this,” he repeated, softer this time.
“No, you don’t.” My voice broke. “You want to.”
He exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t understand-”
“Then make me understand!”
Silence.
I stared at him, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my hands shaking at my sides.
Finally, he spoke.
“He killed Dominic,” he said, his voice low, deadly. “He killed my brother. He took him from me, from Francesca, from everyone who loved him. And you expect me to let that go?”
“I expect you to be better than him.”
His eyes flashed.
I pushed forward. “I expect you to think about Francesca, about us, before you throw your life away for revenge.”
He flinched. Just barely. But I saw it.
Good.
I grabbed his hands, gripping them tight. “I know you’re hurting. I know you feel like this is the only way to make things right, but it isn’t, Alaric. It’s just going to make everything worse.”
He was silent, staring at me, his jaw tight.
Then, slowly, he pulled his hands away.
“Stay here, Emilia.”
I shook my head. “No.”
His lips pressed together. “I’m not asking.”
“I don’t care.”
He sighed, turning away. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Then make time!” I grabbed his arm again. “Please.”
He pulled away, already moving toward the door.
Panic surged through me. He was leaving. He was lolactually leaving.
I ran after him. “Alaric, if you walk out that door-”
He didn’t stop.
“Alaric!”
He was gone.
I stood there, my breath coming in short, uneven gasps, my hands clenched into fists.
No.
I wasn’t letting him do this.
Without thinking, I grabbed my purse and bolted out the door.
I was going after him and I wasn’t stopping until I made him listen.
I gripped the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white. My heart was pounding, my breath uneven, my mind racing faster than the car speeding down the dark streets.
This wasn’t happening.
This couldn’t be happening.
Alaric was going to kill Alonso.
He was actually going to do it.
I shook my head, blinking hard as I tried to focus on the road. The streetlights blurred past me, casting long shadows against the pavement, but all I could see was Alaric’s face-the pure, unfiltered rage in his eyes, the way he had spoken, as if there was nothing left to discuss.
Like his decision had already been made.
Like there was no turning back.
A lump formed in my throat.
No.
I couldn’t let this happen.
If he did this, if he crossed this line, he’d never come back from it. I knew him-I knew his heart, no matter how much he tried to bury it beneath all that anger and pain. Killing Alonso might give him a temporary sense of justice, of control, but when the dust settled, when the adrenaline wore off…
It would break him.
I exhaled sharply, my fingers tightening around the wheel as I pressed harder on the gas.
The city blurred around me, but my thoughts were sharp, cutting, relentless.
How had it come to this?
Had I been blind? Had I been too caught up in the illusion that Alaric could let this go, that we could actually have some kind of peace?
Had I missed something?
My stomach twisted.
Of course, I had.
Alaric wasn’t the type to let things slide. He was calculating, methodical. When he made a decision, he followed through.
I should have seen this coming, I should have known, but I hadn’t.
Because I wanted to believe that love was enough to soften the storm brewing inside him. I swallowed hard, my vision blurring for a split second before I forced myself to focus.
I had to stop him.
But how?
I had already begged him. I had already pleaded. And he hadn’t listened. What if he never listened? What if, no matter what I said, no matter what I did, he had already made up his mind?
I shook my head. No, I refused to accept that. I knew Alaric. I knew he wasn’t a lost cause.
I just had to find a way to get through to him before it was too late.
My phone vibrated against the console, and I nearly jumped. I glanced at the screen, my pulse spiking when I saw Rosa’s name.
I hesitated.
I didn’t have time for this.
But what if she knew something?
What if she could help?
I exhaled sharply and pressed the answer button, bringing the phone to my ear.
“Where the hell are you?” Rosa’s voice came through, sharp, concerned. “I went to the house, and the staff said you left in a hurry.”
I swallowed hard. “I-I don’t have time to explain.”
“Make time,” she snapped. “What’s going on?”
I hesitated.
I shouldn’t tell her. I couldn’t tell her.
But my throat tightened, and before I could stop myself, the words spilled out.
“It’s Alaric,” I whispered. “He’s going to kill Alonso.”
Silence.
Then-
“What?!”
I flinched, gripping the wheel tighter. “I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen. I’m on my way to find him now.”
“Jesus Christ, Emilia.” Rosa’s voice was filled with something between frustration and worry. “Where is he?”
“I-I don’t know. But he’s heading for Alonso.”
A beat of silence.
Then-
“Are you insane?” Rosa’s voice was sharper now, cutting. “You’re chasing after him?”
“What else am I supposed to do, Rosa?” My voice cracked. “Sit back and let him do this?”
“Yes!” she snapped. “Or-I don’t know-call someone who can actually stop him?”
I swallowed. “Like who? The cops? Because that’s not happening.”
Rosa exhaled harshly. “This is suicide, Emilia. You’re going after a man who’s hellbent on spilling blood tonight. He’s not thinking straight.”
“I know that.” My grip tightened. “That’s why I have to be the one to stop him.”
“Do you even know where he is right now?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I’ll find him.”
Rosa groaned. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Maybe,” I said quietly.
She was silent for a long moment. Then, softer- “What if you can’t stop him?”
I bit my lip, my throat tightening. “I have to.”
Because if I didn’t…
If I failed…
I wasn’t sure I could forgive him. And I wasn’t sure he could forgive himself.