Inheritance Redefined

Chapter Thirteen

The ride home from the station was tense.

Elara sat between Isabella and Salvatore in the back seat. Alessandro drove with white-knuckled hands, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter. Isabella didn't let go of Elara's hand the entire time. Salvatore hadn't said a word since they left the station, but he hadn't taken his eyes off Elara either - as if to make sure she hadn't disappeared.

It was only when the estate's tall wrought-iron gates slid open that Elara broke the silence.

"I didn't think you cared that much," she whispered to Salvatore, her voice hoarse.

Salvatore finally turned his head toward her. "You're my little sister," he stated simply. "Of course I care."

Isabella squeezed her hand tighter. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I never- We should've protected you better."

"You did as much as you could," Elara murmured. "And you came when I needed you."

Alessandro didn't speak until the car stopped at the front of the house. Then, with a voice like ice, "You shouldn't have needed us."

He stepped out first, storming up the steps with lethal purpose. Isabella helped Elara out gently, shielding her with her arm like she was afraid someone might grab her again. Salvatore hovered just behind, a silent shadow of protection.

But the moment they stepped through the front doors, Elara stopped.

There were two people waiting in the foyer.

Two men she had never seen before - and yet, somehow, she recognized them instantly.

One stood tall with a scar slicing through his right brow, arms crossed, posture coiled like a loaded spring. His face was unreadable, but as soon as his gaze locked onto her he didn't look away.

The other leaned casually against the stair rail, a lopsided grin playing on his lips. His shirt was half-buttoned, like he'd either just gotten dressed or didn't care to finish the job. There was a glint of mischief in his eyes - but not the cruel kind. Curious. Quick. Alive.

"Elara," Isabella said softly, stepping beside her. "This is Dante..." her mother gestured to the one with the scar, "and that's Luca."

Luca gave a mock salute. "The long-lost brothers finally make their dramatic entrance."

"You're back," Alessandro said tightly as he joined them. "Good."

Dante's voice was low and smooth. "You said she was hurt."

Alessandro nodded once. "The police dragged her in. Cuffed her. Interrogated her. Tried to blackmail her into spying on us for them."

Dante's jaw tightened. His eyes flicked over Elara's face, then down to her wrists that were still red and marked.

"Where are they now? The police officers." he asked with a deadly tone in his voice.

"Handled," Alessandro said curtly.

"They don't look handled enough," Luca muttered. Then he straightened.

Dante stepped forward. He didn't smile. Didn't move fast. But there was something grounding about his presence, like a boulder in the middle of a storm.

"You all right?" he asked her, voice quiet, but serious.

Elara nodded, though her throat was too tight to speak at the moment.

Dante studied her for another beat, then gave the smallest, almost imperceptible nod. Like he'd made up his mind about her.

Luca wasn't quite so subtle.

"You really let the cops cuff you?" he asked, arching a brow. "Come on, Elara. At least throw in a kick next time. Or a punch."

"I-" She blinked, then gave the smallest laugh. "I didn't know that was allowed."

"It's not," Alessandro said dryly.

"Exactly," Luca said with a wink. "That's what makes it so much more fun."

Elara glanced between them, still dazed. "You were both away?"

"We were at the Academy," Dante said.

"And had a job," Luca added. "We were out of the city when the news hit. Got the call. Dropped everything. Came straight home."

"Because of me?"

"Because someone thought they could touch you," Dante said simply.

Elara's breath caught in her throat.

She lowered her gaze. "You don't even know me."

"We don't have to," Dante stated simply.

"You're a Calviero now," Luca added. "That's enough."

Elara couldn't look at either of them for a moment. Her throat was too tight. Her chest too full.

Salvatore's voice broke the silence. "She's exhausted. Let her sit."

Luca moved before anyone else could, stepping into the living room and patting the plush armchair beside the fireplace. "Come on, Elara. You get the soft seat."

Elara followed, almost in disbelief, and sat down slowly. Her muscles screamed in protest. The moment she exhaled, the weight of the day hit her all over again.

Dante remained standing, quiet in the corner, watching her the way a soldier watches the edge of the field. Alert. Ready.

Isabella brought her a blanket. Alessandro poured her a glass of water. And Luca, ever himself, sank onto the armrest of her chair and nudged her shoulder.

"You cry in front of the family," he said. "You get three passes. This was one."

Elara blinked at him. "And if I cry four times?"

"Then we all pretend we didn't see it," he said with a grin. "But only if you tell us which cop we get to ruin first."

Elara gave a choked laugh. And for the first time all day, it felt like something real.