The future will demand strength from us.
But right now, in this dim room with its soft lights and quiet machines, none of that matters.
He loves me.I love him.And whatever comes next—children, bullets, alliances—we will face it the way we were always meant to.
Together.
Epilogue
Dante
Austin, Texas
Two Days Later
Hospitals are not designed for comfort.But money—and influence—solve a surprising number of problems.
I’m in a private recovery suite that is as close to luxury five-star accommodations as a hospital is capable of providing.
The room is quiet except for the soft mechanical rhythm of the monitor beside my bed.
I hate the sound.Not because I’m dying.Because I’m not in my Houston office where I’m supposed to be.
Matteo stands near the window, arms crossed as he watches the Austin skyline.Nico sits at the small table, tablet in front of him, while Dario leans against the wall like he owns the place.
No one is joking.No one is relaxed.Because someone tried to kill me.
And whoever did it is still breathing.
My phone rests on the tray beside the bed, and it rings with the report I’ve been expecting.“Carmine,” I announce.One of our capos.Then I answer the call on speaker so everyone can hear.
“Boss.Got something you’ll want to hear.”His voice carries the low, controlled urgency of a man who believes he’s uncovered something important, which immediately stills the room.
Matteo turns slightly from the window.
Nico’s attention sharpens.
Dario straightens away from the wall.
“What is it?”I ask.
“One of my guys picked up chatter moving along the corridor south of San Antonio.”Carmine’s words are measured and deliberate.“Independent crews asking questions about convoy routes, security rotations, the kind of details you only start digging for when someone’s planning to move something big through the state.”
The room goes quiet.
Carmine continues.“And here’s the part that caught my attention, Boss.The people nosin’ around weren’t locals.My guy swears they were talking about Brownsville access like they already had permission.”
Dario’s brows draw together.“Permission from who?”
Carmine answers before anyone else can.“That’s the problem.Whoever they were talking to dropped the Bertoni name.”
The words settle into the room like a stone falling into still water.
For a moment no one speaks.Not because the accusation is convincing.
But because the implications are…complicated.
Finally Matteo exhales slowly, dragging a hand across his mouth as he considers the report.
