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"What about school?" he asks quietly.
I pause in the middle of shoving clothes into a duffel bag. "Since when do you care about school?"
"Since I started actually showing up." He sits on the bed, suddenly looking very young. "I'm getting better grades. Made some real friends. Not just...you know."
The guilt threatens to choke me. Because he's right, he has been doing better lately. While I've been losing myself in Stefano, my brother's been quietly putting his life together.
"We can't stay." I zip the bag closed with more force than necessary. "It's not safe anymore."
"Because of the Fioris?”
The bag slips from my hands, hitting the floor with a thud. I turn to face him slowly. He needs to know the truth.
I take a need breath and blurt it out. After the initial shock, he says, "It's his, isn't it? Stefano's?"
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
"Then why are we running? He's got money, power. He could protect us…"
"He could kill us," I cut in. "Once he finds out what I was really doing at the club, and who I was working for."
Understanding dawns in his eyes. "The Fioris. Shit, Ava."
"Yeah." I sink down beside him on the bed. "Shit."
For a long moment, we just sit there, shoulders touching like when we were kids. Back when all we had was each other.
"Montana?" he asks finally.
"Montana," I confirm. "Wide open spaces. Fresh air. A chance to start over."
"With my niece or nephew." His hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "We'll figure it out, sis. We always do."
The simple acceptance in his voice nearly breaks me. Because this is why I do everything—for him, and now for this baby, and for a chance at something better than what we were born into.
"We need to go," I say, standing before the tears can fall. "Long drive ahead."
Tony grabs the bags while I do one final sweep of the room. No traces. No trails. Nothing to lead back to us.
Outside, the sky is starting to lighten, Chicago's endless night giving way to dawn. As we pull onto the highway, I allow myself one glance in the rearview mirror. At the city skyline. At the life I'm leaving behind.
At the man who's probably still sleeping, unaware that his world is about to shatter.
"I'm sorry," I whisper one last time.
Then I turn my eyes forward, toward Montana, toward freedom.
Toward whatever future we can carve out for ourselves.
If we make it that far.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Stefano
Cold sheetswhere warmth should be. The wrongness of it drags me from sleep, instincts firing before consciousness fully returns.
My hand reaches for Ava automatically, finding only empty space.