"What the fuck is going on?" he demands, his voice is rough, furious, and desperate. "You know you can tell me anything. I’ll help you."
I bite down hard on my lip to keep from crying and taste blood. "I know. I swear to you I’m fine and safe. I will explain everything to you. Just… not now. Okay?"
There’s silence on the other end, but I can feel his anger, his worry pulsing through the line like a heartbeat.
"Nothing about this is fucking okay, Sophia," he growls.
Tears spill before I can stop them, running hot down my cheeks. I want to tell him more, I want to give him everything, but all I can give right now are the only words that matter, the ones that have lived in me forever.
"Ti amo." My whisper shakes, and before I can break, before I can beg his forgiveness, I hang up.
The phone slips from my hand into my lap, and I press my face into my knees. Gentle arms fold me into their embrace. "You did well, bella mia. So good," Raffael praises. He picks up my phone and turns the device off. "Do you want to go see him?"
I shake my head. "I can’t, I can’t. Not yet." There is no way I want Marcello to see this mess I have become.
He looks around. "Then we had better go. I’m pretty sure he put a tracer on your number."
Yeah, he probably did. A small smile steals over my lips when Raffael puts the helmet back on. I lean my head against his shoulder, close my eyes, and allow myself to just be for a moment. I don’t want to worry, Marcello. I don’t want him to worry about me. But I know I can’t face him yet. It would upset him too much, and me too. I just need a little bit longer. It’s probably selfish and cruel, but I really, really need this time to heal. I only hope that he’ll forgive me.
Raffael slows the Ducati, and I lean back, taking in my surroundings for the first time since leaving the park. Straight ahead of us is the Zanello tower. Edoardo’s seat of power. La Famiglia’soffice.
"Why are we here?" I ask nervously.
His voice rumbles through the helmet’s comm, steady but edged with something harder. "Because it’s time I deal with Edoardo."
He pulls the Ducati to the curb, kills the engine, and the growl dies into silence. We both remove our helmets, and the city noise rushes in to fill the gap. I stare at him, wide-eyed. "Deal with him? Raffael, what are you talking about?"
He swings a leg over the bike, plants his feet, and looks at me with the kind of honesty that feels like a blade. "It’s like I told you, I’m Leonardo Zanello’s bastard. That makes Edoardo my half-brother. If I wanted, I could challenge him for the throne." His eyes flash, fierce andunflinching. "But I won’t… if he gives me what I want instead."
My brows draw together. "And what do you want?"
He exhales, and a bitter smile tugs at his scarred mouth. "Giovanni’s seat. Capo. That spot is open, and it’s mine for the taking."
I just stare. Incredulity crashes through me. "Capo?" My voice sharpens. "You mean drugs? Prostitution? Human trafficking? That’s what you want?"
His jaw tightens, and his hands curl into fists at his sides; his veins stand out sharply against the scars on his knuckles. "No. I don’t want their filth. I don’t give a damn about their empire of poison. But I'll do anything—anything—to keep you safe." His jaw hardens. His hands curl into fists, veins roping under the scars on his knuckles. “So, no. I don’twantit.” His voice drops, steady and lethal. “But I’ll take the chair to drown it.”
He holds my gaze, dark and relentless. “I know I can’t erase every monster. There have always been bad men, and there will always be more. But while I’m breathing, they don’t hunt unchecked. Not here. Not on my streets. Not in any room that answers to me.”
He taps his chest once. “From inside, I can choke the lines and shutter the doors. I can turn my routes into safe corridors, my eyes into floodlights, my money into shields. Day one, the rule is carved in stone: anyone who touches women or children is finished. No deals. Nowarnings. Human trafficking dies the second I sit in that chair.”
His fists loosen, palms open. “And we don’t just cut rot—we grow something better. We fund Lexy’s shelter, then build three more. Staff them. Guard them. Lawyers, doctors, relocation, new names. Music nights, if you want them. We pour back into the world what this world took from you.”
His mouth is grim, his eyes unblinking. “I can’t give you back what was stolen. But I can make sure fewer women ever have to live what you lived. That’s the measure of my power. That’s my rightful place—between them and the girls they think are prey. I will keep you safe, and I will make this mean something.”
The words hit me like thunder. My disbelief tangles with something deeper, fear, yes, but also the raw certainty burning in his eyes.
"You’d do that," I whisper. "All of it. For me?"
His mouth curves, not in a smile, but in something sharper, hungrier. "Sophia… I’d do anything for you. Anything. I’ve wanted to be a king from the moment I realized I wanted you. Because I knew that was the only way to get you. And now—" his hand finds mine, his grip fierce, "—now is the time to claim my spot."
I look at him, really look, and the truth crashes over me; he’s serious. Deadly serious. And somehow, it’s a welcome distraction from the storm inside me. I grabonto it, throw myself into it like it’s the only solid ground left.
"If that’s what you really want…"
But I don’t get to finish. His mouth claims mine, fierce and certain, and my heart pounds so hard it hurts. When he finally pulls back, his voice is rough against my lips. "This is our future, if you’ll have me."
I stare into his eyes, and in that moment, I know I’ll never be able to walk away from him. Not now. Not ever.
