He’ll spend the rest of his life as a ghost, belonging nowhere, trusted by no one.
Torrino’s men move forward and drag Marco away. He doesn’t resist, doesn’t fight.
He’s already dead in every way that matters.
The old don turns to me and extends his hand. “The vendetta is ended, Mr. Artyomov. You have shown honor today by sparing my son’s life, even though he deserved death. I will not forget this.”
I shake his hand, feeling the strength in his grip despite his age. “And the others? The families who supported Lorenzo?”
“They will be dealt with.” Torrino’s smile is cold. “But not by you. This is Sicilian business now. You have earned your peace.”
Peace. The word sounds almost laughable. I’ve been at war for so long I barely remember what peace feels like. B
ut as I look at Sophia, at the way she’s watching me with those blue eyes full of love and relief, I want to believe it’s possible.
Torrino’s men file out of the steel mill, taking Marco with them.
Within minutes, the vast space is empty except for Sophia, Tony, and a handful of my own soldiers.
The silence feels heavy, pregnant with possibility and danger in equal measure.
Sophia runs to me, and I catch her in my arms, ignoring the pain in my ribs. She’s crying, her tears soaking into my shirt, and I hold her tighter.
“You did it,” she whispers. “You showed mercy. You chose a different path.”
I want to believe her. Want to believe that this moment changes everything, that we can walk away from the violence and build the legitimate life she dreams of.
But even as I hold her, I’m calculating. Assessing. Planning.
Torrino said the vendetta is over, but he also warned that other enemies will come.
He’s right.
In my world, showing mercy is seen as weakness.
Sparing Marco’s life will be interpreted as softness, and every ambitious lieutenant and rival family will see it as an opportunity to move against me.
The realization settles over me like a shroud.
There is no walking away.
There is no legitimate life waiting for us at the end of this road.
The only way to protect Sophia is to be stronger than ever. More ruthless. More feared.
I’ve been trying to go legitimate for her, trying to be the man she wants me to be.
But that man will get us both killed.
Tony approaches, his expression grim.
He’s recovered well from his gunshot wound, but I can see the lingering pain in the way he moves. “We should go. This place won’t stay empty for long.”
He’s right.
We need to leave before someone decides to take advantage of the chaos.
I release Sophia reluctantly and start toward the exit, but she catches my arm.
