Chapter 127: 30 Days
Milo kept his mouth shut after Salvatore’s sharp command, the heavy, warm pressure of the man’s palm on his knee effectively cutting off his spiraling thoughts.
They stayed quiet until they reached the mansion.
Salvatore released his grip on Milo’s knee, stepped out of the vehicle first, and waited. Milo adjusted his suit, his hand rising instinctively to touch the thick leather band around his throat. The brass ring felt heavy against his skin.
He slid out of the backseat, his legs still slightly stiff and his throat tight with residual nausea from Nero’s sudden attack.
They walked through the doors into the main foyer. The house was entirely quiet, but the stillness was shattered by the sound of rapid, heavy footsteps coming from the corridor.
Roderick walked out from the office. The man looked so pale, his jaw set in a rigid, frozen line as he headed to greet Salvatore.
Milo stopped dead in his tracks, his entire body going completely stiff.
Why... was Roderick so pale?
The air around Roderick felt incredibly thick and gray.
Milo’s hazel eyes widened in pure, unadulterated horror as that familiar, suffocating sensation flared up behind his ribs.
Roderick was going to die. Soon.
Milo knew Roderick had been completely fine that morning. He desperately hoped the man was simply suffering from a sudden flu or exhaustion from handling too much work.
He couldn’t accept the gray shadow covering the man’s features.
He just stayed still when Roderick reported something to Salvatore, then headed out.
Driven by pure panic, Milo broke away from Salvatore’s side, running across the floor before Roderick could reach the door handles.
"Roderick! Wait!"
Roderick stopped, his brow furrowing in confusion as Milo suddenly grabbed his sleeve.
"Milo? What is it? I’m going to go home."
"Sir... I’m sorry, I don’t want to bother you.... But, can you please open your shirt a bit?" Milo tried to calm himself, but his voice shook violently as his fingers fumbled with the heavy buttons of Roderick’s shirt.
Roderick stepped back. "Milo? What happened?"
"Sir, just open your shirt a bit. Please. Just let me see."
"What are you talking about?" Roderick asked, his expression completely bewildered. He looked past Milo’s shoulder toward Salvatore, searching for an explanation.
Milo kept trying to reach his shirt.
"Milo, stop. My clothes are fine."
"Oh, please!" Milo shrieked softly, his eyes swimming with sudden tears as he forced the shirt apart.
Roderick looked at him. He didn’t say anything when Salvatore just stood up, looking at them. He was sure after the event Milo might have something in his mind.
Milo pushed the collar of Roderick’s shirt aside, his gaze locking onto the bare skin of the man’s upper chest.
The numbers appeared instantly beneath his eyelids, burning bright and cruel against the pale skin.
30
Milo’s hands dropped instantly from the fabric, his breath leaving his lungs in a fractured sob. He couldn’t say a single word. His throat felt completely locked, his chest heaving as he stared at the pale skin.
Thirty days. It was a sad situation, as he knew the timeline was precise, absolute, and entirely unchangeable.
Salvatore stood still behind them, his eyes tracking every single movement of Milo’s frantic hands. He saw the exact second the young man’s face went completely bloodshot before turning a deathly, hollow white.
He recognized that look. And suddenly, he felt uncomfortable.
Roderick smoothed down his suit, looking entirely uncomfortable but remaining polite.
"Well... good night, Sal. Good night, Milo. See you tomorrow." He turned and walked out.
The tension from the BDSM exhibition had completely vanished, replaced by a heavy, suffocating sadness that made Milo’s knees shake.
He liked Roderick immensely. The man had treated him with quiet respect all this time, never looking down on him.
Salvatore didn’t say a word. He reached out, gripped Milo firmly by the arm, and guided his trembling body up the stairs, leading him directly into his bedroom. This time, it wasn’t Milo who insisted on staying there.
He shut the door, cutting off the rest of the house, and turned to face Milo with a serious and worried look.
The room was completely tense. Salvatore’s face was a dark, rigid mask as he stared down at Milo’s pale features. "What is it?"
Milo collapsed against the edge of the sofa, his face so pale. He wanted to cry. "Roderick... Roderick will die in thirty days, Sir."
Salvatore didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. The declaration hung in the air, suffocating him.
He looked at Milo. He knew he would never lie to him. But the words were so scary. He was used to death. He had killed a lot of people, and he had lost a lot of his trusted men.
But, Roderick...
He couldn’t accept it. The man had been shielding him from danger and helping him a lot. The man was a genuinely good person.
Salvatore just realized he had been holding his breath. His face turned incredibly gloomy. He didn’t question Mil, he knew Milo’s sensitivity was never wrong.
He walked over to the wide windows to stare out at the dark courtyard, his fists clenching tightly at his sides.
"Clean yourself and sleep. You want to sleep here or in your room?"
Milo looked at Salvatore. "Let me sleep here, Sir."
"Okay, go clean yourself. 10 minutes."
Milo widened his eyes. He ran toward the bathroom and cleaned himself as fast as he could.
The next morning, it was raining. The water was tapping softly against the dining room windows.
Roderick arrived at his usual time. "Good morning, Sal. Don’t forget we will meet Benjamin today."
Salvatore sat on the sofa, his gray eyes fixed on the man.
"I will go myself," Salvatore stated flatly, his deep voice carrying a quiet, unusual weight. "Don’t do anything. Just rest. Stay inside the house."
Roderick stopped, his hand hovering over the desk as he stared at the man. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Salvatore said, taking a slow drag from his small cigar. "Just don’t do anything today. And stay in the mansion. We have a lot of empty rooms."
Roderick’s expression turned completely confused. He adjusted his collar, looking at Salvatore with a sharp, defensive edge. "I can’t just stay here for nothing, Sal. I have things to handle. I have Teo. I can’t just leave him there."
Salvatore looked at Roderick, a long, heavy gaze of silent grief passing through his gray eyes. He would do anything to save the man.
"Bring the boy back here. Both of you stay here."
Roderick’s brow furrowed deeper, his posture turning rigid. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened," Salvatore lied smoothly, his tone flat and unhurried. "It is easier if you are here."
"But I always come early anyway," Roderick argued.
"Rod, just listen to me," Salvatore commanded, his voice dropping into a low tone that carried desperation. "Stay here today. Please."
Roderick stared at him, completely unbalanced by the rare use of the word ’please’ from the man’s lips.
"But why? I have my own house. I don’t feel comfortable sleeping here anyway. There are too many people here."
"Why does that matter?" Salvatore growled softly.
"Just... why should I stay here when I have a perfectly good place to stay down the road?" Roderick asked, his tone thoroughly bewildered.
Salvatore let out a long, defeated sigh through his nose, rubbing his temples. He couldn’t tell him the truth.
"Whatever. Today, just stay home. Do not come with me. Just rest your body."
"What?" Roderick snapped, his professional pride clearly insulted. "We need to meet Benjamin. You cannot do that alone."
"I will come with Milo," Salvatore stated flatly.
"Milo?" Roderick let out a short, incredulous laugh. "What can he do?"
Salvatore stepped around the desk, his large hand coming down firmly on Roderick’s shoulder. He squeezed the muscle once, a heavy, lingering pressure that felt entirely too emotional. "Just rest, Rod."
Roderick couldn’t argue as Salvatore insisted.
He remained completely confused throughout the entire day. He was entirely certain Salvatore was either preparing to fire him or execute him for some hidden security failure, but he couldn’t find a single reason why.
Even that evening, Salvatore tried hard to delay his departure.
But Roderick was stubborn. He wanted to go home to his own space. He gathered his belongings and left the mansion despite the Don’s cold stares.
Minutes later, the car pulled into the modest driveway of Roderick’s house.
When Roderick pushed the front door open, Teo greeted him immediately from the hallway, holding a wooden tray of hot food.
"You said you would come home early tonight," Teo said with a bright, relieved smile, setting the plates down on the small dining table. "So I made dinner for both of us."
Roderick managed a small, tired smile. "You don’t need to cook for me, Teo. I usually come home full."
"I prefer to cook for you too," Teo muttered, sitting down across from him and passing the cutlery. "But you are always home very late and you go back to the mansion so early in the morning. We barely speak."
Roderick sat down, his shoulders dropping as the exhausting confusion of the day finally caught up to his muscles. He looked at the boy’s eager face and felt a slight lifting of his gloomy mood. "Anyway, thank you. By the way... I have good news for you."
Teo stopped his fork mid-air, looking up with intense curiosity. "What is it?"
"Salvatore is letting you go back," Roderick said quietly, taking a bite of the bread.
"To the mansion?" Teo asked, his eyes widening in absolute, stunned disbelief.
Roderick nodded his head once, his smile turning genuine as he watched the boy’s reaction.
"Yes."
Teo couldn’t believe it. He stood up from his chair so fast it scraped loudly against the floor, stepping around the table to throw his arms tightly around Roderick’s neck in a fierce hug.
"Are you completely sure, Rod? He really said that?"
"Yes," Roderick smiled, his large arms wrapping around Teo’s back to return the embrace, holding him securely. "Next time, don’t make the same stupid mistake. You won’t get a third chance from Salvatore."
"No! Never again! I promise!" Teo cried out, his face bright with excitement as he pulled back. "Can we pack the bags and go there right now?"
"No, it’s completely too late tonight," Roderick laughed softly, gesturing for him to sit back down. "We eat our dinner now, and we sleep."
Teo was too happy to argue. He nodded aggressively, sitting back down and clearing his plate with rapid, energetic speed that made the small dining room feel warm and safe.
Ten minutes after they finished the meal, a sharp, sudden ringing echoed from the front doorbell.
Roderick’s brow furrowed, his instincts instantly snapping back on alert. He almost never had a guest.
He stood up slowly, walking to the front door, and pulled the small curtain away from the door glass to look outside.
Alben. He was standing under the porch light.
Roderick’s stomach gave a sudden, cold jolt. What the hell was the man doing at his residence this night?
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