Page 17 of The Seventh Circle (The Lost Cantos #1)

She nodded reluctantly, and I quietly retreated to the small room I shared with Enzo, where he was already sleeping. I took Marcus Aurelius from its hiding place beneath the loose floorboard, hoping the philosopher's words might settle my churning thoughts, but the pages blurred before my eyes.

All I could see was Paolo's knife slicing across the scout's neck, the man's desperate attempts to hold his blood back, Lorenzo's face frozen in a mask of controlled horror.

I remembered Lorenzo's words at the villa earlier that day: "The world we move in, it's brutal.

It has to be. But there's a difference between necessary violence and cruelty for its own sake. "

Was there truly a difference, though? Or was it all just different shades of the same darkness? And if I continued down this path with Lorenzo, how long before that darkness claimed me too?

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, there was a soft tapping at our apartment door. I glanced at the small clock by my bed—nearly midnight. Mama and Papa had gone to bed hours ago.

Moving silently, I retrieved my knife from beneath the mattress and crept to the door.

"Who's there?" I whispered.

"It's me." Lorenzo's voice, so low I almost missed it. "I need to speak with you."

I glanced back at my parents' door, then carefully unbolted ours, opening it just enough to see Lorenzo standing in the dim hallway. He wore simple clothes, his cap pulled low—clearly trying not to be recognized.

"Not here," I whispered. "My family's sleeping."

"The roof?" he suggested.

I nodded and slipped out, locking the door behind me.

We climbed the narrow staircase to the building's flat roof in silence.

The night air was cool, the city spread before us in a tapestry of scattered lights.

From here, Rome looked peaceful, its violence and squalor softened by distance and darkness.

Lorenzo walked to the edge, his back to me. "I couldn't sleep," he said finally. "Every time I closed my eyes, I saw..."

"I know," I said. "Me too."

He turned, and in the moonlight I could see the haunted look in his eyes. "I came to... I don't know. To apologize? To explain? I'm not sure there are words for either."

"It wasn't you who did it," I said, though the words felt hollow even to my ears.

"No. But it was my family. My world." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration I was coming to recognize. "That's what we do, Antonio. That's who we are."

I moved to stand beside him, looking out over the city. "Is it who you are?"

"I don't know anymore." His voice cracked slightly.

"I've spent my whole life trying to be what my father wants, what the family needs.

I tell myself there are lines I won't cross, standards I maintain.

But then I watch Paolo do... what he did today, and I say nothing. I do nothing. What does that make me?"

The question hung between us, unanswerable.

"I've done things," I said finally. "Working for your family. Things I'm not proud of."

"But you wouldn't have done what Paolo did."

"No," I agreed. "But does that matter? I stood there and watched it happen. I collected money that pays for men who do worse."

Lorenzo turned to face me fully. In the dim light, his features were shadowed, but I could feel the intensity of his gaze. "Do you regret it?" he asked softly. "What happened between us earlier today?"

The question caught me off guard. "No," I said honestly. "But I wonder if we were just fooling ourselves. This—whatever this is between us—it can't work. Not in this world."

"Perhaps not," he conceded. "But I can't pretend it isn't real."

I stepped closer, unable to help myself. "It's not just about us, Lorenzo. I have my family to think about. After today... I don't know if I can keep them safe by staying in this life, or if I'm putting them in more danger."

"I understand that better than you might think." He sighed. "My father reminded me tonight that I'm to meet with Sophia Vitelli's family tomorrow. They're expecting an arrangement to be made."

A strange pain twisted in my chest. "A marriage."

"A business alliance sealed with a wedding," he corrected bitterly. "I've known it was coming for years."

I turned away, suddenly needing distance.

"Then what are we doing here, Lorenzo? What is the point of any of this?

You'll marry your suitable bride, inherit your father's empire, and I'll what?

Remain your soldier? Your secret? Until one day I end up like that scout, bleeding out in some alley because that's the price of this life? "

"No." Lorenzo grabbed my arm, his grip painfully tight. "I won't let that happen to you."

"You can't promise that," I said. "No more than I can promise to keep my family safe forever. We don't control this world, Lorenzo. We just try to survive in it."

He released my arm, his shoulders slumping. "Then what do you want to do? End this before it truly begins?"

The thought made my chest ache. Despite everything—the danger, the impossibility of it all—I couldn't imagine walking away from him now.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Part of me says that's the smart choice. But then I think about never seeing you again, never touching you..." I shook my head. "I don't think I'm strong enough for that."

Lorenzo stepped closer again, his hand finding mine in the darkness.

"I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you," he said quietly.

"Man or woman. And God knows I've tried to fight it.

But when I'm with you, I feel... real. Like the rest of my life is the performance, and only these moments are true. "

His words resonated through me, echoing my own feelings so precisely it was almost frightening.

"I feel that too," I whispered. "But is feeling real worth risking everything? Your future, my family's safety?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I do know I can't go back to pretending. Not now."

I looked down at our joined hands, then back up at his face, half-hidden in shadow.

"I keep seeing it," I said. "Paolo, the knife, the man's face as he realized what was happening to him.

The way Paolo smiled." I swallowed hard.

"Is that what awaits me someday? Is that what you'll become, after years of this life? "

"No," Lorenzo said fiercely. "Never. I swear it."

"How can you be sure? This world changes people, Lorenzo. It hardens them."

"Because I have you," he said simply. "To remind me what matters. To keep me human."

I wanted to believe him. God help me, I needed to believe him.

"And what about your bride?" I asked. "Your father's expectations? The life that's been planned for you since birth?"

Lorenzo's jaw tightened. "I don't have all the answers. But I know I can't give you up. Not without trying to find another way."

I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand in mine, the brush of the night air against my face. Images from the day flashed through my mind—the peaceful villa where we'd first kissed, the derelict courtyard slick with blood, Paolo's satisfied expression, Lorenzo's stricken one.

"I can't give you up either," I finally said. "God knows I should. For my family's sake, for my own. But I can't."

Lorenzo leaned forward until his forehead rested against mine. "Then we find a way through this. Together."

"How?"

"I don't know yet," he admitted. "But I'll think of something. There has to be a path for us that doesn't end in blood."

I wanted to believe him. Standing there on that rooftop, with the city spread beneath us like a field of stars, it seemed almost possible. But in the back of my mind, I could still hear the scout's screams, could still see Paolo's knife flashing in the dim light.

Whatever path we found, it would not be an easy one. And the price of failure would be measured in blood—mine, or worse, my family's.

Yet as Lorenzo's lips found mine in the darkness, I knew I would pay any price for these stolen moments of truth in a world built on lies.