Blood makes family. What a joke. If that were true, I would not have survived. Blood does not make family. Heart makes family. Bonds are what make a family, and those bonds are the reason why I am alive. Those bonds are what make me fight to protect." ~Hope Valentine

MILAN, LOMBARDY

I adjust my bag and take a deep breath. Azil stands next to me, his 6'5" build towering over my 5'7" physique. He holds the rest of our stuff while I hold my bag. It feels surreal to walk in Milan; it carries so many memories that it is hard to breathe.

"What exactly are you thinking about?" He questions.

People look at us, some intrigued, some afraid. I do not blame them; we surely make an odd pair. Azil has a toned body with developed muscles that he hides with his oversized tees. His olive complexion, ebony eyes, and matching dark hair make him look like he walked out of a fashion magazine. I, on the other hand, have a pale complexion, midnight black hair, and silver eyes that contrast with my hair.

"I'm not sure if this is the right thing to do," I reply.

His eyes twitch at my answer. A black Mercedes stops in front of us as he opens his mouth to speak. The moment the driver gets out, Azil tenses a little.

"Ms. Valentine?" The man asks.

"Yes," I reply. "May I know who you are?"

"I am Thomas Alberto. Your brother sent me to pick you up," he replies.

"Can you give me a minute? I would like to confirm with my brother," I tell him politely.

Mr. Alberto nods with a pleased smile, as if I had passed his test. I pull out my phone and dial the number the social worker gave me before leaving me at the airport in New York. He answers on the first ring.

"Reuben Valentine, speaking," he says in his no-nonsense tone.

"Reuben, there is a Mr. Thomas Alberto, claiming that you sent him to pick me up," I explain.

"Yes, Devon arranged for him." His voice is softer this time. "He is our chauffeur. Sorella, we'll meet soon." He hangs up the phone.

Azil loads our belongings into the trunk. I sit in the back seat, and Azil sits next to me. Thomas informs us that it will take a while before we arrive. My eyes droop from fatigue from the last few days. Azil notices this and pulls me close to him.

"Go to sleep," he says. "I will be here when you wake up."

His assurance lulls me into a peaceful slumber, something that is rare for me.

I wake up just as the car slows down. My breath catches when I see the mansion. It has not changed for ten years. This place was my home for seven years, and being here feels foreign. It is an unpleasant feeling. One I do not like.

"What are you thinking, Hope?" Azil asks as the car stops.

We get out, and Azil dashes to the back to get our stuff. He has a suitcase in each hand and a bag dangling from his shoulder. He joins me, taking in the mansion.

"Ms. Valentine, welcome home," Thomas says before he leaves us alone.

"I think this is a bad idea," I answer Azil's question.

"Is Hope Valentine scared?" Azil taunts me.

I curse myself. Azil is one of the few people who can push my buttons effectively, and as much as I hate it, it usually works to my advantage.

"Curse you, Sentinel," I growl as I approach the front door.

Azil chuckles and then follows me. I take a breather before knocking on the door.

A female answers the door. She appears to be in her sixties. Her gray hair is pulled back in a bun, and her apron is stained with chocolate syrup.

"Oh," she says. "Oh, look at you, all grown-up." She exclaims while she swings open the door wider.

"Ciao, Rosa," I greet her. "È bello vederti." (It is nice to see you)

Rosa was my nanny until I left, and I owe her a lot.

"Dio mio." She whispers.

Her eyes well up with tears, and she opens her arms wide to hug me. The mere thought of another person touching me makes my insides freeze. Azil's hand shoots up, creating a barrier between us.

"No touching unless she initiates it," Azil tells her firmly.

Rosa's eyes dart between us warily before she nods. She calls an attendant to put away our luggage before leading us to the dining room. She stops before the entrance.

"You go in. I will set this gentleman a plate," she tells us before hurrying off to the kitchen.

This time, Azil opens the door, and I brace myself to greet faces that are familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

All four of them sit around the table, but my eyes move towards the youngest of them, my twin. I take in his features. Hadrian stares at me, his charcoal black eyes scanning me as I do the same to him. His jet-black hair is no longer curly and has a few streaks of red in it. He looks a lot like Riven except for a few freckles on his face.

Then my eyes shift towards my eldest brother. Silver eyes similar to mine observe me with a cold, blank look. Hadrian may be my twin, but I am a copy of Devon. Then, I look at the other two, Riven and Reuben.

The last time I saw my brothers, Devon was eighteen and training to take over after our father. Riven was sixteen, and he was going to be a chef. Reuben had been fifteen, but he strongly leaned towards the medical field, and Hadrian was seven.

"Welcome home, Hera," Reuben greets me with a warm smile. "Come join us for dinner."

His eyes move to Azil, and the warmth disappears.

"Who is your companion?" He asks.

"Who I am is none of your business," Azil answers sharply. I sigh.

"He is Sentinel, and I go by Hope now," I reply firmly. "Address me with that."

A look of disappointment flashes on his face. It disappears just as fast. Once again, a smile curls on his face. He motions towards the empty chairs beside Hadrian and Riven.

A pit of anxiety forms in my stomach at the thought of eating with them. For a second, I consider running just to avoid this situation. A doubt that I have not acknowledged since stepping foot in Milan arises. I look at Reuben's face, the warm smile on his face and I wonder if he would look at me the same if he knew what lies underneath this façade I put on for them.

Azil snaps me out of my self-destructive web with a hand on my shoulder.

"I can hear you thinking," he tells me. "اڄ لاء، آرام ڪر. اسان گڏجي اهو ڪنداسين. One day at a time." (For today, relax. We will do it together.)

I nod at his words. I take a deep breath and I make my way to the empty seat beside Hadrian. Azil takes a seat beside Riven, opposite to me.

Rosa places our dinner plates before us. Mashed potatoes, peas, and steak. I thank her before looking at my plate. I start to pick my way through it, picking off the peas.

"Eat your peas," Reuben tells me sternly.

"No," I tell him. I dig in once I separate my peas.

"Hope," Azil waits for me to look at him. "Those peas better be gone, or I will call Ace."

"You didn't have to pull out the big guns," I mumble, but I start eating the peas.

Once dinner is over, Rosa places plates of blueberry pie before us.

"Hadrian will take you to your room," Devon tells me once the plates are cleared out.

"A guest bedroom has been arranged for your companion for as long as he is staying," Riven says.

"I am not going anywhere," Azil says before getting up. "Where she goes," he points at me. "I go."

'You finish this off,' He signs to me. I nod in response.

Once Azil leaves the room, I turn to face my brothers. It still feels weird to be near them. An awkward silence fills the dining room. For a second, we all stare at each other, wondering how to break this ice. Finally, Hadrian musters up the courage to do it.

"Come on, Hope," He addresses me. "I will show you to your room."

I stand to follow him. Riven's voice stops us just as we reach the hallway.

"Hope," He calls out. When I turn to look at him, he does not say anything. He just examines me, as if still digesting the fact that I am standing before him. I wait for him to say something, but he says nothing for a long time. Just when I start to wonder if I should just leave, he speaks.

"Hope," He repeats, testing the name. He nods. "It suits you. Bentornata a casa, sorellina." (Welcome home, little sister.)

"Good night, Riven," I tell him before following Hadrian.

"It's good to have you back," Hadrian blurts once we reach the room.

"Did you miss me?" I ask. This one question has been bothering me since I stepped on that goddamn plane.

"I did. I got used to living without you," He admits. "But, I am glad that you are home."

"Goodnight, Hadrian." I shut the door once he leaves.

I let out a strained breath, sinking down to the floor. Today has been exhausting, and tomorrow is going to be even more exhausting, but I have no choice.

The phone rings, disturbing the peace that surrounds me, even if it is a temporary one. Kai's name flashes on the screen. An involuntary smile curls on my face.

"Hello, Kai." I greet him.

"Hello, little heart." Despite the fact that it is not Kai's voice, it makes me smile more. "How are you?"

"I'm good." I reply instantly. "You got back from Spain."

"I did." Ace answers. "Any word on Spade?"

"No." I grumble. "Ace, make him answer his stupid phone."

Ace laughs at my whining. His laughter surprises me and makes me happy that I am one of the few people he trusts.

"I will not get into your shenanigans, Hope." Ace tells me, the amusement in his tone evident.

I hear Kai yelling in the background, something along the lines of how Spade is an idiot.

"I have to go, little heart." Ace speaks over Kai's yelling. "Take care."

I look around the room once he ends the call. Decorated in white and gold themes, the room looks quite exquisite. A bed rests to the far right of the room. The wall next to the bed has a walk-in wardrobe built into it. The washroom is opposite to the bed, and the door next to the room's entrance leads to the open balcony.

I do not bother with unpacking or changing. I simply ditch my shoes and face plant into the soft bed. Sleep does not come, despite the fact that I had no sleep for the last three days except for short naps here and there.

An hour later, Azil knocks on my door thrice and then twice a second later before coming in. He changes into a set of black tee and sweatpants. His damp hair indicates the recent shower. A fluffy white towel rests around his neck. He closes the door and leans on it.

"How are you feeling?" He asks me, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm fine." I tell him. It earns me a blank look.

"I'm exhausted." I admit. "It feels so weird being back here."

"Say the word, Hope." He prompts. "Say it, and we leave."

I glare at him, but he does not move. I can see where he's coming from. He is one of the sentinels. His job is to keep me safe at all costs. My involvement does not make his job any easier. I realize that I do not appreciate him as much as I should.

"Thank you." I blurt out.

A look of surprise crosses his face, so fast that I barely recognize it before it disappears. He blinks once, twice before focusing on me. He is so stunned; it makes him slip into his mother tongue.

"لأي غرض؟" He asks. (What for?)

"For keeping me safe." I reply.

"What is the next step?" He asks, trying to change the subject.

"I have no idea." I confess. I do not mind the change of subject because, as tough as Azil is, he acts awkwardly when it comes to appreciation or compliments.

"The only thing I know is that there is a man in Milan. Santo Ferrari. He is involved in whatever happened to Scarlett, and I intend to find out exactly what he has to say about it."

"Where do we find him?" Azil asks. He settles beside me on the bed, his knees tucked under his chin, his back supported by the headboard.

"I know where to find him," a voice answers from behind the door. The door opens, and Hadrian steps in.

"The room is soundproofed, but it is connected to mine," he explains when he notices the blank stares directed at him.

Azil shoots up from his position, coming to stand beside me. Hadrian stares at Azil for a few seconds before his attention turns to me.

"Now, why are you here?" He asks. The hard edge of his tone makes it clear that he will settle for nothing but the truth.

"And don't give me the same bullshit story about your guardian being dead," he warns when I start to answer.

I exhale, bracing myself. He wants the truth, so that is what I give him. Because, at this point, I need all the allies I can get, and I could not care less if knowing the truth puts him in danger. I will not stop until this ends, and knowing about Santo Ferrari is only the beginning of the war.

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