Novel Ships
Chapter 71 (Aliyana)
Chapter 71 (Aliyana)
His rich scent, wraps around me as a breeze blows by, and my throat clogs knowing that this moment,
is fleeting. Knowing he is not mine. “Do you think Ren is in heaven?” I ask him. My gaze focused on his
harsh face as the flesh under his left eye twitches. He remains next to me, looking into the garden as if
it could talk.
“When he looked at you, he could see a glimpse of heaven.” His head turns to me, my face lifted to his,
as his stares down at me.
I wish I knew what was going through his head.
“He must’ve been drunk.”
Marco chuckles, “He was pissed. We all were.” His voice is a melody to a sad song, as his eyes, a
picture to a lost one.
I remain staring as he looks away, his attention on the rose bushes. We stand in silence, both lost to
our own thoughts.
The air is thick, a lot left unsaid. Feelings still linger between us, not fully formed to give it a name, but
intense enough that neither of us choose to leave this, here, now.
“Is my sister going to be okay living with your brother?” It is a natural question, and the only thing I can
think of to ask at this moment, when the light burns my flesh as the man standing next to me burns me
from the inside.
He sighs.
“Is that a no?”
“Your sister could have done worse.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“It's the only you’re getting.”
My sister’s marriage to Leonardo will placate his father. Put a lot of our people at ease.
“Papa will never allow another marriage between a Catelli and Capello.” Of that I am certain.
“It is what it is,” He whispers.
A tear slides down my eye. This is happening.
My sister and Camilla are true Italians and I am a half-blood, not worthy of marrying a Catelli. I can’t
give him an heir.
Is it a coincidence that the wind blows, freezing my tear as my heart beat mirrors the exact same chill?
“He won't remain faithful, but he will never hurt your sister physically.”
“Thank you,” I say to him nodding, because what else can I say. I was born into this life. The day my
parents gave me life, this life and the struggles I would face became set in stone.
The path I choose from here on, would still lead me to the same ending, Death.
“A woman as beautiful as you never need thank a man. I'll see you around Mezzosangue.” He turns
away from me, but it feels like more. Final.
“Why her?” I blurt the words, watching his back stiffen, I can’t take the words back, and I don’t want to. I
want him to tell me.
“I need to know Marco, why her? You owe me that.”
“It is what it is Aliyana.”
“Am I not Italian enough?”
“I have never lied to you, Aliyana, don’t make me start now.”
“I never asked you for lies.”
He doesn't turn to face me, just remains standing and I do the same. Staring at his black suit jacket that
traps his broad shoulders, I am not certain of what emotions I’m feeling right now. But him standing
there, in his suit looking every bit of the dangerous Catelli he was born to be I can honestly say, his
choice of attire is a fitting cage for a wild beast.
“I am sorry I hurt you, Aliyana. But, Camilla is going to be my wife. I love her. I suggest you find a new
man to give all your affection to. It will be a shame to see it go wasted on a taken man.”
Marco walked out of my life after delivering words that cut me deeper with every step he took away
from me as I dropped to the floor.
My knees hit the pebbled ground. My voice, the echo of a broken heart. This is pain, this real.
Regret is something I have never felt. Not when I shot the man who killed my mother, or poisoned the
girl who broke my friends heart, nor when I went behind Papa and disobeyed every order he dished
out. No, regret is something foreign to me. But now, it is my friend, now it has attached itself to my very
soul, that light now dimming. I regret the day I ever laid eyes on Marco Catelli. I regret him.
My Papa always told me that love is for fools, because the outcome is always the same, heartbreak. It
is a weakness, a flaw. My knees should pain from the stones pocking in the flesh. Worry of my father
catching me in this disgusting position, over a man should be on my mind. But, right now, as I cry with
my body curled on the ground, my throat aching from the sounds coming out of it, all I can think about
is how it hurts. My slob from my mouth covering my chin, the snot from my nose leaking out, the
rocking motion of my body as I howl in the pain of rejection, uselessness. My tears aren't just for him,
my tears started for what he did, but now I am crying for me. A girl who only wanted to be loved, have a
simple life. A girl who never got to smile without shadows behind her gaze. I cry for myself, for my 12-
year-old self who didn't allow herself to say no, who wasn't strong enough to tell her father she didn't
want to be a killer. My stomach caves in as I cross my arms , pushing them into my abdomen.
Unsuspecting hands wrap around me, lifting me as I am placed on a familiar scent. The urge to fight is
fleeting, as I succumb to this surprising yet needed show of affection by the man who is my enemy.
Sometimes enemies could make the best allies at such unpredicted times. I never knew the story
unfolding as the hands of my enemy comforted a lonely heart. Mine
I cry in Matteo’s arms, saying a silent goodbye to my first true heartbreak.
“You should wipe your tears,” An unknown voice says startling both of us. My eyes are swollen as they
burn when I open them and face the bright sun to look at the owner of the voice.
I pull back from Matteo and push my butt off his legs, realizing how this must look.
The way I was cradled in his body is forbidden and punishable. The fact that he knows that but took the
chance anyway just to comfort me is a lot. I file that small piece away for later when I am not having a
‘moment' of weakness.
They say life can be unexpected at times, and when one door slams shut a new one gets made,
waiting to be unlocked.
I wipe my stinging eyes, snotty nose and the slob on my cheeks and lips.
Lifting my head, I look up to the man who stole my moment to mourn. Men are thief's and I am tired of
getting robbed.Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.
I open my mouth to tell this perpetrator just that. Broad shoulders block the sun as I stare at the tall
man. The scar on his neck a reminder of exactly where I am and the type of men I am around. He has
a harsh scowl on his face.
His mouth which could be full is currently tight as he stares down at me, disapproval festered all over
his features.
I glare up at him, “I don’t take orders from you.”
“No, you don't.” His voice, is deep, yet sharp like a whip, as he takes a step closer when my frown turns
very deadly. I get up, my short form standing very close to his.
“But come tomorrow, Miss Capello I will take orders from you.”
“What?” I am confused, at the same time Matteo gets up from the floor and stands next to me.
“Who are you?” He asks, still liking the sound of his voice but I am grateful because I am also very
curious to who the hell this scarred man is.
His smile is malicious and sends scary shivers to course up my veins.
“Salvatore Moretti.”
“Michel’s cousin?” I query.
“Yes, Camilla Moretti’s cousin too.” It was on this SATURDAY standing in my mother’s garden looking
at the scarred Salvatore Moretti, that I knew my father was a very intelligent man. And surely he
wouldn't be so foolish to give me a Moretti as a soldier without at least a thought, unless…
Another thought comes to mind and for the first time since I got home and found out my sister was
marrying Leonardo minutes after I found out Marco was engaged to Camilla, I smile so big and the
happiness that fills me overflows.
NB. Thank you so much for reading. Do you want more? Please read Union of Death to find out what
happens next.