He is her Don and has taken care of her and the kids.
But it doesn’t make sense for him to go to the FBI unless he made a deal to leave him alone in exchange for handing them me.
Still, that doesn’t sound like Dom.
“Giovani Sarto knows. I don’t know if Dom told him or he overheard me.”
“Mother fucker!” I glance back at the bedroom door, worried I just woke the kids up. “Your father suspected him of helping your uncle. He’s probably involved in your father’s murder.”
If he wanted to get back at me, snitching to the FBI would be a way to do it.
But my being Elena’s children’s father doesn’t hurt me legally.
And Gio would know more incriminating information about La Corona than she would. I’m not sure what Gio’s game is here.
"What exactly did Blackwood offer you?" I ask.
"A new identity. New start." Elena's voice is tired. "He said he could make sure I kept full custody and that you'd never find us."
The thought of my children disappearing, of losing them just when I've found them, sends a primal rage through me. I really want to kill Blackwood.
"And you turned him down," I say, needing to hear her say it.
"Of course I did." Her voice sharpens with indignation. "I told him that's not what I want."
I lean against the wall. "What do you want, Elena?"
The silence stretches between us, filled with seven years of misunderstandings and pain.
"What I want," she finally says, "I can't have. I can't undo the past. I can't give you those years with the children. I can't erase the hurt I've caused you."
I close my eyes, my loss crushing my chest like an anvil.
"But at the very least," she continues, "I want our children to have their father. I want them to know you, to be loved by you. I want them safe from men like Blackwood who would use them as leverage."
Her words are a balm. Not a complete healing, but a start.
"I've spent years keeping them from you out of fear," she admits. "I won't make that mistake again. Whatever happens between us, I'm committed to your being their father."
I glance back at the bedroom door, thinking of the three small bodies curled up in my bed, trusting me to keep them safe.
"Thank you.”
Through the crack in the door, I can see Adalina clutching her rabbit, snuggled close to her brothers.
"We'll figure this out," I promise Elena. I don’t know how. I don’t know where we’ll end up.
But for their sake, I’ll find a way to make all this work.
ELENA
I blow warm air on my gloved hands to keep warm as I scan the winter festival entrance.
The festival grounds shimmer with twinkling lights strung between trees and booths.
Christmas carols float through the air, mixing with laughter and the scents of cinnamon and pine.
My heart skips when I spot Luca walking with our children.
