What Remains Of Us

chapter 4

Viviana

I stood there, heart racing like a trapped bird in my chest, as the others filtered out of the room. Some looked back at me with curious eyes, but no one dared to linger once his men stepped aside and made room for him to move.

He didn’t speak at first. He just watched me. That same unsettling stare he’d pinned me with from across the club, only now it was worse — closer. Real. I hated that my body remembered him before my mind had a chance to catch up. The boy I knew was gone. This man—Tommaso Rossi—wore control like a tailored suit.

“I don’t know what you want,” I finally said, breaking the silence before it suffocated me. “But if you're here to finish what your father started—”

He stepped forward, fast enough to shut me up but slow enough that I didn’t flinch.

“I’m not him,” he said, voice low, almost angry. “And I’m not here to hurt you.”

I blinked. “You expect me to believe that?”

“No,” he said, and his jaw clenched. “But you’re going to hear me out anyway.”

God, that voice. Gritty with power, edged with something I didn’t know how to name. He used to laugh with that mouth. Now it sounded like it could command a war.

He reached into his jacket, and I froze, my body locking up from old instincts. But all he pulled out was a phone. He placed it on the nearby table, screen down, and looked at me again.

“I’ve been looking for you since the moment I found out you were alive,” he said.

That stopped me. My breath hitched.

“You were supposed to be dead,” he added, quieter now. “We thought you were.”

“I almost was,” I whispered.

---

Tommaso

She was still beautiful — in that fierce, unbothered way that always made people underestimate her. But I could see through the fire in her eyes. That wasn’t strength. It was survival. A shield she’d worn for years. And I hated that my family had put it there.

She looked like she was debating whether to run, slap me, or both. I would’ve let her if I thought it’d help.

“You disappeared,” I said, watching the way her jaw tensed. “Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

Her laugh was sharp and humorless. “What it did to you? My family was burned alive.”

“I know,” I said, quiet but firm. “And if I could take it back—”

“But you can’t,” she cut in. “None of you can.”

“I wasn’t part of that. I didn’t know until it was too late.” The words burned like acid in my throat. “And when I did… I made sure no one would come looking for you. I buried your name so deep no one in the family would dare speak it.”

Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something — ask something — but couldn’t find the words.

“I tried to protect you,” I said. “It was the only thing I could do.”

She shook her head, eyes glistening with something that looked like grief, maybe even betrayal. “Why now? Why here?”

“Because I couldn’t stay away anymore,” I said honestly. “Because I saw you dancing like the world hadn’t broken you. And I realized I’d never stopped looking for that girl who used to sneak candy into my coat pocket.”

That finally made her look at me.

“I don’t dance for you,” she said, voice cracking just enough to prove she wasn’t as untouched as she pretended.

“I know,” I said. “But you will talk to me.”

And she didn’t walk away.

That was a start.

---

Viviana

I didn’t realize I’d started shaking until I sat down. My legs felt too weak to keep holding me up. The private lounge was cold now — the lights dim, the music shut off — and it was just the two of us in a room that suddenly felt too small.

He didn’t sit right away. Just watched me, arms crossed, like he was memorizing every twitch of my face. Finally, he moved toward the velvet chair across from me and lowered himself slowly, like he didn’t want to spook me.

Smart. I was already on edge.

I folded my arms across my chest. “So. Talk.”

He rubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know where to start.”

“The truth would be nice.”

He gave a short laugh, not out of humor — more like exhaustion. “The truth? You really want it all?”

“I’ve lived every day thinking I’d be hunted down if I stepped out of line,” I snapped. “So yeah. Give me the damn truth, Tommaso.”

He nodded slowly. “It wasn’t a sanctioned hit. What happened to your family… my father ordered it without Council approval. He thought your dad had crossed a line — done a deal with another family behind our back.”

My stomach turned. “He didn’t. He was trying to get out.”

“I know.” His eyes met mine, and for the first time, I saw real guilt there. “By the time I found out, it was done. But I made it known: if anyone touched you, they'd answer to me.”

“So why not come find me then?” I asked. “Why wait all this time?”

He looked down, then back up. “Because I knew if I found you too soon… I wouldn’t be able to let you go. And I wasn’t ready to bring you into that world again. I thought staying away kept you safer.”

I hated that part of me believed him.

“You always wanted to protect me,” I murmured. “Even back then.”

He nodded. “And I failed.”

There was a silence that stretched between us — thick, heavy with everything unspoken.

“I had dreams about you,” I whispered, surprising even myself. “After the fire. You’d be at the edge of the smoke, calling my name. Sometimes you’d pull me out. Sometimes you’d vanish.”

His face broke, just slightly, like a mask cracking.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he said. “Not once.”

I swallowed hard, throat tight. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“I won’t ask you to,” he said. “But I’ll earn it.”

Another silence. This one softer.

“I didn’t take the dance,” I said finally. “Because I didn’t want it to mean nothing.”

His jaw tensed. “It wouldn’t have.”

We looked at each other then — really looked. Years had passed. People had died. Identities were buried, and lives were rebuilt. But somewhere under all that rubble… we were still there.

Still us.

---

Tommaso – POV

The phone buzzed on the table, a low hum against the wood. I glanced at the screen.

Boss, we’ll wait outside.

I tapped a response—Go pick up some food and bring it back here—then set the phone down again. I wasn’t ready for this to end, not when I’d waited years to see her face again, to hear her voice without a wall between us.

She sat across from me with her arms crossed over her chest like armor, but I could see the storm in her eyes. She hadn’t decided yet if she was staying or running. I’d make sure she didn’t feel the need to do either.

“You know,” I said, voice softer now, “Maria misses you.”

Her head turned at the name. That hit home—I could see the shift instantly. Her fingers loosened a little, her lips parted just slightly.

“She’s married now,” I added. “Two kids. A little boy named Mateo… and a baby girl. They named her Viviana.”

Her breath hitched. Then, slowly, she gave a sad, almost disbelieving smile. “Maria... she named her daughter after me?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Still has that photo of you two. That block party—you remember it? You had glitter in your hair, matching shirts. I think she cried when you disappeared.”

Her shoulders sank a little. “She was just a kid. I hated leaving her like that.” Her voice cracked with guilt, but she quickly blinked it away. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“I know,” I said, meaning it. “That’s why you’re sitting here and not in a trunk somewhere.”

Her eyes widened a fraction. She was trying to figure me out, trying to separate the man she once trusted from the power I carried now. I wanted her to know she was safe—not just safe, but wanted. Not as leverage. Not as a loose end. Just her.

A knock at the door interrupted us, and she jumped slightly. I stood and answered it myself, taking the bags from Daniel. He nodded once and stepped back.

“We’ll wait outside,” he murmured.

I turned in time to see her relax—just a little. Like she hadn’t realized how tightly she was wound until the pressure started to ease. I placed the bags on the table and began pulling out the containers. She hesitated at first, but when the scent of garlic, roasted chicken, and fresh bread hit the air, her eyes lit up in a way I hadn’t seen since we were kids.

“I didn’t think I was hungry until now,” she mumbled, fingers already reaching for a container before asking.

I chuckled softly. “You always did forget to eat when you were stressed.”

She looked up at me, almost smiling. “And you always remembered.”

For a few minutes, we didn’t talk. She just ate, and I let her. It was the first time I’d seen her let her guard down since the moment she walked in. I watched the tension slowly leave her shoulders, and I realized something I hadn’t expected—she didn’t need convincing to stay tonight. She needed reassurance that I wasn’t here to drag her back into something she tried to escape.

And I wasn’t.

But I’d be damned if I let her disappear again.