"I burned the bridge," I said quietly. "With my family. There's no going back from this."
"I know."
"They'll tell everyone I'm a traitor. That I chose Giuseppe's enemies over blood. The other families will judge. My brothers will probably disown me if Giuseppe hasn't already."
"Probably," Matteo agreed.
"I should feel worse about that than I do."
"Should you? They never valued you. Never saw you as more than decorative. You're grieving the family you wish you had, not the one you actually had."
He was right. That made it hurt more somehow.
"I wanted them to love me," I admitted. "I wanted Giuseppe to be proud. I wanted my brothers to see me as an equal. I wanted to belong in that family even though I never fit." My voice cracked. "And now I've burned any chance of that ever happening."
Matteo held me tighter. "You've got a new family now. If you want it."
"New family?"
"Me." He pressed a kiss to my temple. "I'm your family now, Stefan. Whatever that means. However you want to define it. You're not alone."
The words should have felt like too much pressure. Like Matteo trying to replace everything I'd just lost with himself.
Instead, they felt like safety.
"What if that's not enough?" I whispered. "What if I need more than just you?"
"Then we'll figure that out too. Maybe Sandro and the others will come around eventually. Maybe you'll find new people. New connections." He tilted my face up to meet his eyes. "But right now, you've got me. And I'm not going anywhere."
I believed him.
CHAPTER 12: MATTEO
I KNEW Ishould let Stefan contact his family properly. Should give him closure or whatever people called it when you burned bridges with everyone you'd ever known. Should maybe encourage him to reach out to Antonio one more time, try to repair at least one relationship.
But every time Stefan mentioned his father, rage burned through my chest like acid.
Giuseppe Romano had sent his youngest son on a suicide mission. Had expected Stefan to fail. Had probably hoped he'd die or disappear so Giuseppe wouldn't have to deal with the disappointment anymore. The man had spent twenty-three years treating Stefan like property, and then he'd thrown him away like trash.
I wasn't letting that man anywhere near Stefan again.
Even if that made me controlling. Even if that made me exactly like the people Stefan had escaped from.
The thought gnawed at me as I sat in my office reviewing the latest intelligence reports. Three months until the RICO trial. Twelve weeks until federal prosecutors would try to bury us all with evidence they'd been collecting for years.
And the FBI surveillance had intensified dramatically over the past week.
Elio had confirmed it that morning. Federal agents watching Inferno constantly. Following our movements. Building their case brick by brick. They were looking for leverage. For weak points. For anyone they could pressure into flipping.
Like Stefan.
My jaw clenched as I read through the summary Elio had prepared. The FBI knew about Stefan. Of course they knew—Giuseppe had probably told them everything. About sending Stefan to gather intelligence. About Stefan getting caught. About Stefan choosing to stay with the Vitales instead of coming home.
They'd be interested in that. Very interested.
A Romano son living with the enemy? Someone who'd been inside both organizations? Someone who might have information about Giuseppe's operations and ours?
Stefan was exactly the kind of leverage the FBI loved.
