All Chapters of The Black Rose: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

I settled into one of the seats, and the men arranged themselves around me—Noir beside me, Lorenzo across from us, Silas in the seat behind. Like they were forming some kind of protective circle, even here in the relative safety of the plane.The flight attendant—a professional-looking woman who Lorenzo clearly knew—went through the safety procedures with practiced efficiency. Then we were taxiing down the runway, and Italy was falling away beneath us.The entirety of the flight was spent with each man trying to lift my spirits in their own way.Silas told ridiculous stories about jobs gone wrong, missions that had turned into absolute disasters but somehow worked out in the end. He exaggerated everything, making himself the butt of most jokes, clearly trying to make me laugh. And despite the heaviness in my chest, I found myself smiling occasionally, even chuckling at his more outrageous tales."And then Lorenzo had to pull me out through the window," Silas was saying, gesturing wild

The apartment was small—a living room that doubled as a dining area, a galley kitchen barely big enough for two people, and two bedrooms off a narrow hallway. But it was clean, thanks to Mrs. Rodriguez who came every three days to tidy up and make sure nothing went bad in the fridge while Dylan was in the hospital. "Sorry," I said, not looking at any of them. "It's not much." I realized too late how stupid that sounded. They didn't care. They'd probably seen worse. But standing there in my tiny apartment with these three men who lived in mansions and owned private planes, I felt the difference between our worlds more acutely than ever. "It's nice," Noir said, and he sounded like he meant it. They moved through the space, taking it in without judgment. Silas gravitated toward the bookshelf in the living room, examining the collection of worn paperbacks and DVDs. Lorenzo stood by the window, looking out at the street below. Noir stayed close to me, a silent presence at my back. I wa

"Lorenzo..." My throat closed up, "I'm so sorry."I didn't have perfect parents either, my father abandoned me and my mother used me to fill her bank account, but even so I couldn't fathom the amount of pain Lorenzo would've gone through at that point in his life. "I was out studying and learning the business, but by the time I got home..." He trailed off.I didn't need him to finish. The image was clear enough."My father taught me to use a knife when I was eight because he said I needed to be ready for anything. He taught me to shoot at ten. To plan an ambush at twelve. He was preparing me for a war I didn't know was coming." Lorenzo's voice was steady but there was an edge to it. "Turns out he knew exactly what was coming. Just not who was going to bring it to him."His father was alive, I gathered, but probably in hiding, from Lorenzo. It explained a lot of hints he'd dropped about his family. "I couldn't protect my sisters, but I did avenge them, I ruined my father's life just

ELLIEDylan looked better than yesterday.It made no sense, but there she was—propped up against her pillows with color in her cheeks that hadn't been there the day before. Her eyes were brighter, more alert, and when we walked in, she actually smiled."There's my girl," she said, her voice still weak but clearer than it had been. She held out her arms, waiting for a hug like she used to in the earlier days. Hope bloomed in my chest before I could stop it. Maybe the doctors were wrong. Maybe she was getting better.But then I saw the way Sarah's smile didn't reach her eyes, the way the nurse checking Dylan's vitals looked at us with something like pity, and I knew. This wasn't improvement. This was something else.Still, it was better than her not being here at all. I welcomed her embrace like it would be the last time, because it just might. Her body felt frail in my hold, so delicate I feared I might break her if I squeezed too hard, but Dylan didn't seem to mind. "How are you fee

SILAS My eyes hadn't left Ellie since we got in the car. She sat in the backseat between me and Lorenzo, her body so tense I could practically see the tremors running through her. Tears streamed down her face silently—no sobs, no sounds, just an endless flow of salt water that she didn't bother wiping away. Her fingers twisted together in her lap, wringing and twisting until the skin turned an angry red and then white from the pressure. Lorenzo had his phone pressed to his ear, speaking in low tones to someone—probably the pilot, arranging our immediate departure. His voice was measured, controlled, giving nothing away as usual. But I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his free hand clenched and unclenched against his thigh. It was rare to see him like this, so visibly on edge, tense and no doubt waiting for Ellie to say something, anything. Noir gripped the steering wheel like he fully intended to break it. His knuckles were bone white, and I watched the leather cre