Maybe that's the root of all this bitterness.
"She's trying to leave," Bruno says, jerking his chin toward me. "Looking likethat. At this hour."
Pietro's gaze sweeps over my dress. His expression doesn't change but I catch the slight tick in his jaw.
"I won't be alone," I say before either of them can start the lecture. "Elio's driving me. He'll be with me the whole time."
This shouldn't even be a conversation we're having. I've been going out with bodyguards since I was fourteen years old. Every boy who's ever looked at me twice knew exactly whose sister I was. Knew that making a move meant answering to five overprotective brothers and an entire criminal empire. It's not like I've ever beenunprotected.
They know this. Both of them.
Bruno wheels closer. "It's different now. The Morellis are making moves. The Russians are sniffing around our territory. You can't just?—"
"I can." I meet his glare with one of my own. "And I will."
For a moment, I see a flash of the brother who once threatened to break a boy's kneecaps for making me cry at prom. But it twists into something uglier. Meaner.
"You're being stupid," he growls.
The words land like a slap. My throat tightens.
Pietro sets his glass down on a nearby table. The softclinkof crystal against wood is somehow louder than Bruno's accusations. He looks at me and whatever he sees makes something in his expression soften. Just a fraction. Just enough.
"Elio's one of our best," Pietro says quietly. Then he nods. Once. Permission granted.
I don't need his permission. I'm twenty-four years old, for God's sake. But I'm grateful for it anyway. Grateful that someone in this family still sees me as capable of making my own choices.
"Thank you," I murmur.
Bruno makes a sound of disgust. "You're making a mistake."
I don't answer him. Can't. Because if I open my mouth right now, I'll say something I can't take back. Something about how the real mistake was believing he'd come back to us whole. Something about how I visit him every week even when he treats me like dirt, even when his cruelty makes me want to cry, because underneath all that bitterness is still my brother.
The one who woke up from a coma to discover he'd lost everything—his legs, his brother, his position, his future.
I understand his anger. I do.
But understanding doesn't make it hurt less.
I turn away from both of them and push through the front door into the cool night air. Elio's already waiting by the black Porsche, and he opens the back door without a word.
As I slide inside, I catch a glimpse of Bruno through the compound's window. Still watching. Still furious.
He wasn't like this before. Before the wedding. Before the bullets. Before he spent six months trapped in his own bodywhile Pietro shouldered a burden that was never supposed to be his.
Bruno woke up to a world that had moved on without him, and he's been punishing everyone for it ever since.
Especially himself.
I look away. Pull out my phone. Text Amanda that I'm on my way.
Tonight, I'm going to dance. I'm going to laugh. I'm going to pretend, just for a few hours, that my family isn't fractured beyond repair.
Tomorrow, I'll go back to being the good sister. The loyal daughter. The one who holds everyone's secrets and pretends not to notice when they're falling apart.
But tonight?
Tonight, I'm just Vittoria.
