KILLIAN'S POV. ( two weeks after Jeremy's death .. before Alessandra's meeting with the brotherhood ) It had been fourteen days Fourteen fucking days. Three hundred thirty-six hours. Too damn long, and I still didn’t know who killed my brother. The last few weeks was a blur, and after Ronan killed basically fucking person at the venue, I knew he knew it too. Whoever killed Jeremy wasn’t at the wedding. But what was their motive? Jeremy might have been an asshole, but he didn’t have any real enemies heartless enough to poison him point blank. I groaned. People cried like they knew him. Like they understood what we lost. But I knew better. Jeremy wasn’t someone you understood easily. He was an absurd, beautiful paradox—loud and reckless, sharp and observant. And now, gone. Just… gone. He died with blood pouring out of his mouth. On his wedding day. In front of everyone. And no one saw a damn thing. I hadn’t slept more than three hours at a stretch since that day. My room
Killan's Pov (Before the wedding — After Alessandra shot him) Why. Why. Why. Why… doesn’t make any sense. Even from here, I could hear the soft shuffle of slippers in the hallway. The kind of anxious shuffle that always came before Lia opened a door too quickly. “Honey, are you okay?” she said, stepping in, hand on her chest. Behind her, of course, stood the man whose voice could curdle wine. Ronan. “You guys shouldn’t be here,” I muttered, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “It’s just a gunshot wound.” “Is that how you talk to your mother, you insolent punk?” Ronan snapped, still standing by the door, arms crossed like the world owed him an apology. He didn’t even look at me. Typical. His eyes were already on Damon, who had made himself comfortable on the leather couch, flicking through his phone like this was a casual social visit. “What happened?” Ronan asked him. Naturally. Ask the one who wouldn’t say something snarky. I could’ve told him myself, but he wouldn’t believ
Alessandra’s POVIt had been four weeks since my wedding. Two since we buried Jeremy.I haven’t spoken to Ronan yet about my father. Not because I didn’t want to—but because I still wanted to help my mother. And maybe.....maybe I was afraid.I hadn’t seen much of my father either. He’s been “occupied.” First with the chaos left behind after the wedding, then with the funeral. Then with Ronan’s response....one hundred and fifty people dead.... my wedding really was the Red wedding As for me?I was just trying to breathe. Trying to pretend I didn’t feel what I felt. That I didn’t see Jeremy’s face in my sleep. That I didn’t remember the way he smiled at me even after the blood had spilled from his mouth. That I wasn’t the one who never loved him back.And he had only ever wanted that.For me to love him.Now I stood in front of Ronan’s estate again , I haven't been here since the wedding.There was a meeting with members of the Brotherhood. Normally, I could attend only because I was e
Alessandra’s POVLia had passed out not long after Killian disappeared. I should’ve gone after him sooner but....“Will you be alright by yourself?” I asked, my voice low, unsure.Ronan didn’t look up. His hand moved over Lia’s cheek in slow, repeated strokes, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. It wasn’t comfort. It wasn’t affection. It looked like muscle memory, like his body needed something to do to keep him from shattering.“Yes,” he said.He didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe, it seemed.He was lying. Of course he was lying. But what could I do? Some people needed silence more than company, and Ronan was one of them.So I nodded and opened the door to leave but I came face to face with someone who shouldn’t even be here .....but of course he was.My father.He wasn’t surprised to see me here do did he look like he came here to comfort me and since Ronan was too lost in Lia to notice anything outside the woman in his arms, he didn’t see it—the smile.My father’s smile.The one
Alessandra's POV All I could hear was the ringing in my ears. A sharp, high-pitched hum that made everything else feel far away....muted, like I was underwater. My eyes stayed fixed on the blood smeared across the front of my wedding dress. His blood. We rushed him here. Killian drove, breaking every law regarding traffic regulations that ever existed. I don’t remember speaking...I just remember holding Lia upright, helping her walk when her legs wouldn’t work right. She hasn’t said a word since we got here. She’s just sitting there now, completely still, staring at the floor like if she moves, she’ll fall apart completely. Killian is in the corner of the waiting room. Not standing, not pacing. He’s on the floor, his back against the wall, knees pulled up, head down, like he’s trying to hold himself together. I’ve never seen him like that before. Not even close. Ronan has been pacing. Restless. Angry, maybe, but not in the usual way. His eyes are red not from anger but from tear
Alessandra's POV My eyes were wide, fixed on Jeremy. And he was still smiling. The priest cleared his throat, clearly unsure what to do. He leaned back into the mic. “Do you take—” Jeremy let out a sigh and gently took the mic from his hands. “I said no,” he repeated, then glanced at the crowd. “Do you want me to say it in Italian? No.” A ripple of murmurs spread across the guests. Heads turned. Whispers followed like a wave. I scanned the faces—Lia looked frozen in place, eyes wide, hand to her mouth. Ronan sat back, completely indifferent, like he’d seen it coming. I leaned closer, my voice low enough only he would hear. “Jeremy, what are you doing?” He turned to me, calm, almost amused. Then he chuckled and lifted the mic again. “Well,” he said, “I have a story. A funny one, actually.” His gaze dropped to me, and this time, his smile was sharper. “You’re not quite my type.” What? My stomach turned. The whole world felt like it had gone quiet just to hear