The line goes dead.
I lower the phone wondering why I was thinking that I could have a happily ever after.
Even if Luca wanted that too, it’s impossible.
Not with me caught between two worlds.
Two worlds on the verge of going to war.
I could warn Luca, tell him everything.
We could run, but for how long?
The Bratva's reach is extensive.
Enzo would never know safety, always looking over his shoulder.
Or I could give them what they want. Save my son. Save countless lives.
And destroy my heart in the process.
All of a sudden, forty-eight hours seems too long.
Luca should leave now, I think, even though I know the Bratva wants their revenge and will go to Chicago if necessary to get it.
Behind me, the French doors open. Luca's warm presence soothes, but I can't bring myself to turn around.
"Everything okay?" His voice carries an edge of suspicion.
"Fine." I slip my phone into my pocket, forcing a smile as I face him. "Just work."
"What did they want?" His hand slides possessively to my waist, and I fight the urge to lean into him.
"Nothing important." A lie.
Luca studies my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. "You're pale."
"I'm tired." At least that's true. "It's been a long few days.” I step away from him. "I should check on Enzo."
"I'll come with you."
"No." The word comes out sharp. I soften my voice. "I mean, I need a minute. Alone."
His jaw tightens, but he nods. As I slip past him, his hand catches mine. "Whatever it is, we face it together. I'm not going anywhere."
The irony nearly breaks me. It's not Luca's leaving I fear anymore. It's what will happen if he stays.
I return to the cottage and dismiss Sofia who sometimes agrees to help Enzo with homework. Enzo is playing in his room, blissfully ignorant of the turmoil surrounding him.
Twenty-four hours to decide whether I sacrifice the man I love to save our son.
“Hi, Mommy.” Enzo grins at me. I smile back but inside, my heart is cracking.
“Hello, sweetie.” I sink to the floor beside Enzo and join in his game of cars. How could I have been so foolish? For a few blissful days, I allowed myself to imagine the three of us together. Now that dream feels like a cruel joke.
The Bratva won't stop until they have Luca's blood. If I warn him, they'll come for Enzo. If I don't, I become Luca's executioner.
I've spent years caught between two worlds, the Dantes and the Bratva, maintaining a precarious balance that's now completely shattered.
