Savage Honor: Blood Oath

006: Dead Men Don't Stay Buried

A ghost should never knock on your door.

But mine had left claw marks.

His name was Matteo DiCarlo.

My brother. My curse. My mistake.

I buried him a long time ago—figuratively, not literally. Because the truth was, Matteo disappeared after a massacre that left blood on my hands and ashes on our family’s legacy. The world thought he died in that fire.

I let them.

It was cleaner that way. Simpler.

But simple doesn’t last in this world. And ghosts? They don’t burn. They wait.

Until now.

I hadn’t said a word since Isabella spoke his name.

She stood across from me in my office, her arms crossed over her chest, dark eyes waiting for me to lie. To deny it.

But I didn’t.

Because it was time.

“He was the golden son,” I said finally, voice rough with something I didn’t recognize. Regret, maybe. “He had the charm, the ambition, the smile. Everyone loved him. My father put his crown on him before he was old enough to bleed for it.”

“And you?” she asked quietly.

“I was the shadow behind him. The one who took the punches. Cleaned the messes. Spilled the blood. The one who knew this world didn’t run on charm—it ran on fear.”

She watched me in silence. No judgment. Just... waiting.

“When Matteo disappeared, the council looked to me. I didn’t want it, but I took it. Because if I didn’t, someone worse would have. Someone like Sal Ricci.”

“You let the world believe he was dead.”

I nodded once. “Because if they knew he was alive, they’d have waited for his return. He was the heir. I was just... a weapon.”

“And now he’s back.”

I met her eyes. “And he wants his kingdom.”

We didn’t sleep.

Instead, we made war plans in whispers and half-truths. We talked until the candles burned down and the rain started again outside the windows, steady as a metronome of dread.

Isabella stood at the window, her silhouette framed by lightning.

“You said he disappeared after the fire,” she said. “But you never said why it happened.”

I looked down at my hands. They were clean now, but that night? They were black with soot and soaked in blood.

“It was a setup,” I said. “Matteo was making deals behind my father’s back. Black market trades. Opium shipments. He got greedy.”

She turned. “And your father found out?”

“He told me to fix it.”

“So you did.”

I met her eyes. “With fire.”

She didn’t flinch. “And you let Matteo burn.”

“I thought he burned,” I said. “But if he’s alive now, it means he survived—and he’s been planning this ever since.”

She exhaled slowly. “That means Nico isn’t just a traitor—he’s Matteo’s man.”

Worse. He was the bridge between my empire and my brother’s revenge.

By morning, the house was alive with tension. My men were on edge. Every room had eyes in it, and every corner held whispers. I didn’t trust half of them. Hell, I barely trusted myself anymore.

At breakfast, Isabella sat across from me in silence. She hadn’t mentioned the kiss. Or the bed. Or the fact that we were now bound by more than just vows and bloodlines.

She was sharper than ever. Focused.

“You’re not eating,” she said, breaking the silence.

“Not hungry.”

“You’ll need strength.”

I glanced up at her. “For what?”

She set her coffee down, slow and deliberate. “For when you face him.”

It was noon when the message came.

Nico wanted a meeting.

One-on-one.

Neutral ground.

He chose the old DiCarlo chapel on the edge of the city. The irony nearly made me laugh. A church—where I took my first communion, where my mother was buried, and where Matteo once promised me he’d always protect me.

Now it was the place my traitorous brother sent me to die.

But I didn’t plan on dying.

I planned on ending it.

I didn’t bring guards.

Just a gun.

And her.

“You sure you want to come?” I asked as we stepped into the black car.

Isabella slid in beside me, wearing a black trench coat, her hair pulled back like a blade.

“If you think I’m going to sit in your mansion while you face ghosts alone, you really don’t know me yet.”

I smiled—cold and brief. “No, I think I’m starting to.”

We rode in silence through the city, the chapel growing closer with every mile.

Memories clawed at me with every street we passed.

My brother and I laughing in the back seat. My father’s ring heavy on Matteo’s finger. The way that fire looked in the rearview mirror as I drove away, thinking I’d erased a threat.

I didn’t kill my brother that night.

But I made him a monster.

The chapel was empty. Deserted.

Dust hung in the air like old prayers. The stained glass was cracked, light filtering through like broken halos. I stepped inside first, gun drawn.

Isabella followed behind me, silent, eyes sharp.

We reached the altar.

That’s when Nico stepped out of the shadows.

He looked the same—only colder. Harder. Like a man who’d finally chosen his side.

“Boss,” he said like the word was still sacred. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”

“No?” I raised the gun. “Then what did you want, Nico?”

He didn’t flinch. “A future. One you weren’t going to give us.”

“Bullshit. I built this family from the ground up.”

“You built a prison,” he spat. “Matteo’s coming back to free it.”

“So he is alive.”

He smiled. “More alive than you’ll ever be.”

I heard the click behind me too late.

Isabella turned.

And stared into the face of Matteo DiCarlo.

Alive.

Older.

Deadlier.

He stepped out of the shadows like he’d never left. His hair was longer, his face leaner. But the eyes? Same. Cold and brilliant and dangerous.

“Hello, brother,” he said.

I turned, lowering the gun, but only slightly. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“You tried.” He smiled without warmth. “Didn’t take.”

I looked him over. “So what now? You take my city?”

“No,” he said. “I take back what’s mine.”

I glanced at Isabella—silent, calculating.

She stepped forward before I could speak. “If you wanted power, Matteo, you could’ve come back years ago.”

He smirked. “Years ago, I would’ve been killed on sight.”

“So what changed?”

His eyes darkened. “I found out what Luca was hiding. And I found people who were willing to bleed for me.”

I raised my gun again. “Then let’s bleed.”

He didn’t move. “Not today, brother. Today’s just the beginning.”

And before I could fire, smoke filled the room—tear gas. The side doors burst open. Chaos erupted.

I grabbed Isabella and dragged her down behind the altar as gunfire exploded around us.

“Go!” I shouted, covering her body with mine as bullets chewed through wood.

When the smoke cleared, Matteo and Nico were gone.

And the chapel was painted in blood.

Later, back at the mansion, Isabella cleaned the graze on my arm in silence.

“He’s not going to stop,” she whispered.

“No,” I said. “But neither am I.”

She met my eyes. “He knows your secrets.”

“Then I’ll bury his.”

She paused. “And what if he uses me against you?”

I grabbed her chin, held her there. “Then he dies screaming.”

A beat of silence.

Then she whispered, “And if I betray you?”

I smiled—slow and sharp. “Then you’ll die prettier.”

But something in her eyes shifted.

And I wondered if I meant it.

Or if I was already too far gone.