The Bratva.
Katerina’s secret.
The concerns over Enzo’s physical and mental health.
Each thought brings a bigger need for action, for violence, for resolution.
"You look ready to murder someone." Valentina materializes from the shadows.
"Not in the mood." I try to move past her, but she sidesteps, blocking my path.
She crosses her arms. "Why do you look like you're about to do something monumentally stupid?"
I lean against the wall, suddenly exhausted. "Maybe because I am."
"Talk to me." It's not a request.
"I'm thinking of giving them what they want." There have been times when talking about handing myself over has just been words. Now, I’m resolved that it may be the only way to keep Katerina and Enzo safe. “Me."
Valentina's eyes widen. "You can't be serious."
“I’m deadly serious.” I study her. “I don’t know that Dad ever loved any of us enough to sacrifice himself, but I am. My heart beats for my son and his mother. You probably think that’s sappy?—”
“No. I don’t. I think it’s sweet.” She smirks. “Who knew you’d be the only one of us capable of love. Well, except maybe Adriano, but…” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to lose you just when you’re back.”
I’m touched by her words. "If something happens to me, I need you to look after them. Katerina and Enzo."
"Nothing's happening to you." Her voice hardens. "You're not sacrificing yourself for some misguided notion of heroism."
"It's not heroism. It's practicality." I run a hand through my hair. "The Bratva wants me. No one else has to die."
"Except you." Valentina steps closer, fury radiating from her small frame. "God, you're just like Father. So convinced you're the only one who can solve everything, even if it means destroying yourself in the process."
"This isn't about me?—"
"Bullshit." She cuts me off. "This is absolutely about you and your martyr complex. You think dying will somehow make up for being gone these past seven years?"
Her words feel like a slap.
I stare at her, momentarily speechless.
"You want to do right by your son?" she continues. "Then live for him. Be the father he deserves."
"And if the Bratva comes back? If next time they don't miss?"
“If they come back, you kill them. Protect what’s yours. Or take them to Chicago," she suggests. "Start over."
For a moment, I imagine a different future.
Katerina and Enzo in my Chicago penthouse, safe from all this bloodshed.
The vision is so tempting it physically hurts.
I shake my head. "The Bratva would follow. And it wouldn't just be us in danger. It would be you, Alessandro, Adriano. Everyone."
"Then we fight." She places a hand on my arm. "But not by throwing your life away."
“You say ‘we’ but Alessandro and Adriano don’t want to?—”
