The Mafia Hidden Rose

Chapter 4 – Flight of Shadows

POV AIDEN

I stayed close to her the moment she stepped onto the jet. Willow. My sister. Even saying it in my head felt unreal. She kept her head down, hands clutching the hem of her ragged, ill-fitting jacket. I could see the way her eyes widened at everything around her—the polished floors, the leather seats, the soft hum of the engines. Everything screamed wealth and power, a life she’d never known. I swallowed. She didn’t need to see my anger at those who had let her live without this.

“Here,” Dad said quietly, tossing a bag onto the seat next to her. I saw the flicker of confusion cross her face. He had brought clothes for her—new, clean, soft fabrics that didn’t feel like punishment or neglect. A lifeline wrapped in silk and cotton.

She hesitated, staring at the bag as though it might vanish if she touched it. I felt my chest tighten. She didn’t know how to belong here yet. That would take time. But I’d make sure she had that time.

She disappeared into the small bathroom to change. Dad leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, and I felt the tension in his shoulders. The weight of what he’d lost seventeen years ago was still there, carved into every line of his face.

“I can’t believe she’s really here,” Dad muttered, almost to himself. His eyes softened in a way I hadn’t seen in years.

“She’s thin, scared… but alive,” I said quietly. “That’s all that matters.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “We failed her once. I won’t let that happen again.”

“I won’t let her go either,” I said. My voice was low, almost a growl. “No one will touch her. Not while I’m here.”

We stood in silence for a moment, listening to the hum of the engines. I felt some of the storm inside me ease—just a little. Relief, tempered with all the rage and fear we’d carried for years. For the first time, it felt like we were a family again, even if only fragilely.

I stole a glance toward the bathroom door where she was changing, my sister, still small and trembling, slowly letting herself step into this new life. I promised myself silently: I would protect her. I would avenge her. I would never, ever let her be alone again.

POV WILLOW

I kept my head down, clutching the bag Dad had given me like a shield. Everything about this place screamed wealth, power, and control—things I had never known, things I didn’t feel worthy of. My clothes were ragged, tight in the wrong places, worn thin in others. I felt exposed, naked even, in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

Every movement I made felt dangerous, as if the wrong word, the wrong gesture, could make them turn on me. I couldn’t stop imagining the fear I had grown up with—the constant tension, the need to hide, to survive. My chest tightened, and I swallowed hard, trying to breathe through it.

And yet… I could see them. My father, towering and impossibly strong, watching me with those dark eyes. Not anger. Not judgment. Just… careful reassurance. It made my stomach twist in a way I didn’t expect, half fear, half hope. I wanted to trust him, but trust had been stolen from me long ago.

Then there was Aiden. His eyes were burning with anger, but it wasn’t at me. I could feel it—sharp and raw—directed at the world that had failed me, at himself, maybe even at Dad for not finding me sooner. That fury, though, felt protective, like a wall I could hide behind.

I wanted to believe them, wanted to let myself feel safe, but the fear of being hurt, of making the wrong move, was still alive inside me. Every look, every word, every movement was a test I wasn’t sure I could pass. And yet… even through the fear, there was something that whispered I might finally be home.

POV AIDEN

When the bathroom door finally opened, my sister stepped out like someone caught between worlds. She was… different. The rough, ill-fitting clothes were gone, replaced by soft fabrics that hung properly, colors that suited her pale skin. She looked fragile, yes, but also… real. Alive in a way she hadn’t been for years.

Her eyes widened as they scanned the cabin, taking in the leather seats, the polished surfaces, the quiet hum of the engines. I could see the awe, the disbelief, the fear. She didn’t belong here—or at least, she didn’t think she did. And I understood that. I’d spent seventeen years feeling some of that same disbelief, seeing the empire Dad had built and wondering if I could ever measure up.

I stayed close, careful not to crowd her. Her gaze flicked to me, then to Dad. I could tell she was trying to read us, to see if we were like the people who had taken her from her life, from me. I gave her a small nod, just enough to tell her she was safe here.

Dad leaned back slightly, arms crossed, and I caught his eyes. There was a softness there, yes—but also pride, relief, and the weight of years lost. I felt it too. This was a rare moment for us, a private understanding that only we could share while she adjusted.

“She’s really here,” Dad murmured quietly, almost under his breath.

“Yes,” I said. “And she’s ours. We’ll make sure of it.”

She didn’t need to hear our words, and she didn’t. She was still too overwhelmed by the richness around her, by the newness of everything, by the strange feeling of being… wanted. But I could feel it, too—the thread pulling her toward us, pulling me toward my role as her protector.

I would watch her, guide her, shield her. And I knew, without a doubt, that whatever storms had come before, whatever enemies had taken her from us, they would never touch her again. Not while I was here.