“And you’re okay with that?”
She’s quiet for a moment, considering the question seriously as she twirls a piece of hair around a slim finger. When she answers, her voice carries absolute certainty.
“I’m more than okay with it. For the first time in my life, I feel complete. Like all the different parts of who I am are finally working together instead of fighting each other.” She meets my gaze directly. “I know what I’m capable of now, and it doesn’t scare me anymore.”
“It doesn’t scare me either,” I tell her honestly. “It makes me proud.”
Her smile is radiant, transforming her entire face. “I love you,” she says simply. “More than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. When I thought I might lose you…”
“You’re not going to lose me,” I interrupt firmly, pressing a finger against her lips. “It’ll take more than a fucking Calabrese sniper to keep me away from you.”
She smiles. “Promise?”
“I promise.” And I mean it.
She leans down then, carefully avoiding my injuries, and kisses me with a gentleness that gradually builds into something deeper, more desperate. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, and I can see desire mixing with relief in hereyes. Her gaze tracks to my heart monitor which is beeping loudly due to an elevated heart rate. She chuckles.
“When you’re better,” she whispers against my lips, “I’m going to show you exactly how much I missed you.”
“Looking forward to it,” I murmur back, already anticipating our reunion despite the pain medication making everything fuzzy around the edges.
“But for now,” she continues, pulling back slightly to fix me with a haughty DeLuca glare, “you need to rest and heal. Doctor’s orders.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I agree, though I’m already fighting to stay awake. The conversation has exhausted me more than I expected.
As consciousness starts to slip away again, I hear her settle back into her chair, the soft sound of pages turning as she returns to her ridiculous romance novel. The last thing I’m aware of is her hand in mine, warm and solid and real, anchoring me to the world of the living.
I drift off with a smile on my face, knowing that when I wake up again, she’ll still be there. She’ll always be there.
And together, there’s nothing we can’t survive.
28
BIANCA
It takes me three tries to actually get out of the car.
The first time, I sit in the driver’s seat for twenty minutes, staring through the windshield at the wrought iron gates of Woodlawn Cemetery while my hands grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white. The second time, I make it as far as opening the car door before panic floods my chest and I slam it shut again, my heart hammering like I’m about to face a firing squad.
The third time, I force myself to move before I can think too much about what I’m doing.
It’s been three weeks since the battle that ended the Calabrese family, which means it’s been three weeks since I put a bullet through Dominic’s forehead. Alessandro is healing well—his lung function is back to normal and the chest wound is just a scar now that he likes to show off to make me roll my eyes. Matteo and I have found our new rhythm, something that’s not quite father-daughter but definitely family. The federalinvestigation concluded with no charges filed against anyone in our organization.
As expected.
Everything should feel settled. Instead, I’ve been carrying this weight in my chest, this need to confront the people whose blood runs in my veins but who shaped me in ways I’m only beginning to understand.
So here I am, walking through a cemetery on a cold late November morning, my breath forming little clouds in the cold air as I follow the map the groundskeeper gave me. I gave strict instructions to my bodyguards tonotfollow me.
So naturally, they’re in their cars watching me like a hawk.
My boots crunch on fallen leaves, and the smell of late autumn—decomposing foliage and that particular crispness that comes before winter—fills my nose.
Giuseppe’s grave is what I expected.
The headstone is massive, black granite that screams wealth. Gold lettering proclaims himGiuseppe DeLuca, Beloved Patriarch.There’s even a quote carved beneath his name.A man who built an empire for his family’s future.
I stare at those words—beloved patriarch—and want to throw something. Or punch something. Or maybe even go back in time so I can kill Dominic again.
