Claimed by the Mafia Don-Chapter 52: Back In Thailand

ZOE DEAN’S POV

The drive to the airport was quiet.

Not the easy kind of quiet that feels peaceful — but the kind that’s heavy, filled with things neither of us dared to say.

I sat with my hands clasped in my lap, watching the city roll by through the tinted window. My thoughts were everywhere — the goodbyes I hadn’t properly said, the memories that still clung to me, and the man sitting just inches away who once made me forget how to breathe.

Nero didn’t say a word. He just drove, his expression unreadable, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting casually near the gearshift. Every now and then, his thumb tapped the leather — rhythmic, quiet, like a heartbeat.

I found myself memorizing him again, the way I always did. The dark leather jacket, the tattoos peeking just above his collar, the stillness that somehow made him seem even more dangerous. I wondered if he wore black because it soothed him, because it matched the shadows he carried so well.

When the airport came into view, the early morning light glinted off the private terminal. A sleek black jet waited at the far end of the tarmac — his jet. I could recognize it anywhere.

Nero pulled the car to a stop, cutting the engine. The hum faded, leaving only the distant echo of another plane taking off. For a long moment, neither of us moved.

Then his phone rang through the car’s Bluetooth. He frowned when he saw the name on the screen.

"Yes?" His voice came low, calm, but it had that dangerous edge I remembered — the one that made people listen.

I couldn’t hear the other side of the call, but whatever was said made the muscle in his jaw tighten.

"I’ll have Benny handle it," he said finally, tone clipped. "No, don’t bring it to my attention again unless it’s absolutely necessary. We can’t afford to make this more complicated than it already is. I want everything done discreetly."

His voice had dropped even lower — deliberate, commanding.

Then, as if sensing my eyes on him, he glanced my way. Just briefly. His expression softened a fraction before he looked forward again.

"I’m about to board," he said into the phone. "Headed back to Thailand. My mission in Santiago is complete."

Mission.

The word hit harder than I expected.

Was I the mission?

I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until the call ended. He placed the phone down, and silence filled the car again.

I found my voice, though it came out smaller than I wanted. "Is everything okay?"

He looked at me for a moment, eyes searching mine — and then nodded once. "Everything’s fine. Let’s go."

He stepped out first and came around to open my door. The gesture — so simple, so old-fashioned — tugged at something deep in my chest. He’d always done that, no matter where we were, no matter how angry he was.

The morning air smelled faintly of sea salt and jet fuel. A few attendants waited nearby, all in crisp uniforms, trying not to stare. One of them reached for my suitcase while Nero exchanged a few words with a tall man in black — one of his men, no doubt.

I tried to listen, but the wind carried their voices away.

Even so, Nero didn’t let go of my hand. Not once.

When he turned back to me, his face was unreadable again — calm, composed, the mask slipping back into place.

"You okay?" he asked, softer this time.

I nodded, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. I’m okay."

He studied me like he didn’t quite believe that but let it go. Without another word, he guided me toward the waiting jet.

The stairs gleamed in the sunlight. I climbed them slowly, my hand still in his. I didn’t look back — not because I didn’t want to, but because I was afraid that if I did, I wouldn’t move at all.

The cabin inside was quiet and cool. Cream leather seats. Polished wood. The faint, familiar scent of cedar and something distinctly him.

Nero led me to a seat by the window. I sank into it, my palms cold despite the warmth in the air. He took the seat across from me, and for a moment, we just... looked at each other.

He fit here. Effortlessly. Like the plane, the silence, the control — all of it belonged to him.

And yet, sitting across from me was also the man who once wrapped his coat around my shoulders when I was shivering. The man who whispered he’d never let anyone hurt me again.

When the engines hummed to life, I felt it — the shift. The point of no return.

I turned to him. "Everything okay?" I asked, because it was the only thing that came to mind. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

He nodded. "Yeah. Just some final arrangements."

I nodded too. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, just... full.

As the jet began to move, I stared out the window, watching the runway stretch ahead until the plane lifted into the sky. The world below shrank — all the places that had held my laughter, my healing, my second chance at peace.

Aunt Gina. Paul. Micah.

My throat tightened. I hadn’t cried when I said goodbye. But now, in the quiet hum of the cabin, the emotion came in slow, heavy waves.

I blinked fast, trying to stop the tears. One slipped free anyway.

Nero noticed. He didn’t say anything — just reached for a napkin and slid it across the small table between us.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely there.

He leaned back, eyes on me. "You’re welcome."

After that, the flight passed in fragments.

Little moments.

Little words.

He asked if I was hungry. I told him about Micah’s obsession with video games. He told me Emily missed me — that she’d been asking when I’d come back.

But beneath the small talk, there was something else. Something quiet and real. We both knew this wasn’t just a flight. It was a return — maybe even a reckoning.

At some point, I must’ve fallen asleep.

When I opened my eyes, the light outside had changed — the endless white of clouds giving way to a golden stretch of land below. Thailand.

We were back.

The word felt fragile in my chest.

Nero glanced at me. "You okay?"

I nodded, still dazed.

"We’ll be landing soon," he said quietly.

"It feels strange," I murmured. "Coming back."

His eyes softened. "You don’t have to be afraid of coming back with me."

That caught me off guard. There was something in his voice — a tremor, almost. Fear, maybe.

"I’m not afraid," I said gently. "It’s just... after everything, I feel uncertain. Like I don’t know what’s waiting on the other side."

He didn’t respond right away. Just looked at me — really looked — like he could see all the things I wasn’t saying.

When the plane finally touched down, the soft jolt pulled me back into the present. The sun outside was brighter here, the air sharper, almost electric.

The private runway was quiet, guarded. A black car waited near the edge — Somchai’s.

As we stepped off the jet, the humid air wrapped around me like a memory. The scent of wet earth and jasmine hit me all at once.

"Welcome back, sir," the driver greeted when Nero approached.

"Thank you," Nero replied. "Is he expecting us?"

"Yes, sir. The estate is ready."

I followed silently, my shoes crunching against gravel. The driver took my bag and opened the back door.

Inside, the car smelled of leather and sandalwood. I stared out the window as we drove — the streets, the vendors, the sounds — everything felt familiar yet distant.

Nero sat beside me, silent again. Every now and then, I caught him sneaking glances at me.

After a while, he said quietly, "You’re very quiet."

I smiled faintly. "So are you."

He tilted his head. "Are you angry at me?"

I looked out the window. "No," I said softly. "Should I be?"

He smiled a little at that — the first real smile since we left.

The drive wound through lush roads until the familiar gates of Somchai’s estate appeared ahead. My heart gave a small, painful lurch.

Everything looked the same — the tall gates, the vine-covered walls, the murmuring fountain in the courtyard. But the air felt different now. Heavier. Like it remembered everything we’d been through.

When the car stopped, Nero got out first and opened my door. For a heartbeat, I hesitated. Then I took his hand and stepped out.

The air smelled of jasmine. Somewhere in the distance, I heard temple bells.

It felt like walking into a dream I wasn’t ready to relive.

Nero’s voice came quietly. "Welcome back, Zoe."

I looked at him — at the man who’d once been my ruin and my refuge. My chest ached.

Before I could answer, I heard a voice shout my name.

"Zoe!"

Emily.

That voice — that bright, breathless voice — hit me like sunlight breaking through clouds.

I turned, and there she was, running toward me.

And for the first time since we landed... I smiled.