Page 40 of Marco

We stay like that for a long moment, drawing strength from each other. The past can't be changed, but the future is ours to shape. As long as Marco and I are together, I know we'll be okay. The long night is over. Dawn has finally come.

Marco and I settle into our new life, far removed from the dangers of his father's criminal empire. Here in this sleepy seaside town, we can finally breathe easy.

Our modest cottage by the cliffs is simple but cozy. Marco seems lighter, smiling more as he putters around the garden or cooks dinner in our tiny kitchen. At night, we curl up together on the porch swing, listening to the steady crash of waves.

After so many years of living on edge, the quiet takes some getting used to. But I cherish these private moments with Marco, talking and laughing late into the evening. We speak of small things, our hopes rather than our fears.

There are still shadows, of course. I catch Marco staring off into the distance, sadness creeping across his face. And my own nightmares persist, visions of blood and gunfire jolting me awake. But we are healing, day by day.

On our long walks along the beach, Marco squeezes my hand gratefully. "Thank you for this life," he says. I smile up at him. "We built this together."

Our scars may never fully fade, but we wear them with pride now. They are marks of what we have survived and overcome. Marco and I still have each other. That's all that matters.

Marco

My departure sent shockwaves through the underworld I once dominated. For years, my iron grip kept rival families and factions in check. But now, the balance of power has been thrown into chaos.

I dream about the fallout. I'm sure that in the ornate halls of the Bertolini estate, Enzo seethes as he paces back and forth. Formerly one of my most trusted advisors, I'm sure he assumed he would inherit control. But those above us had other plans, refusing to name Enzo as successor, and instead naming Luca who has remained loyal and consistent over all the years we've worked together.

"That bastard abandoned us!" I imagine Enzo snarling, hurling his glass at the wall. "The family stood by him through everything. And how does he repay us?"

I picture the don sitting stoically behind his massive desk, defending my decision. "Marco made his choice. We must look forward now."

But if I know anything about my cousin, it's that Enzo will not let go so easily. He still has loyalists on his side, men as angry and bitter as he is. Enzo's lust for power knows no bounds. If the don won't give him control, he'll be prepared to take it by force.

In the coming weeks, tensions escalate. Suspicious accidents befall those loyal to the don. Strong-arm tactics intimidate rivals into submission. The family teeters on the brink of civil war.

And from the shadows, the wolves circle. The Gallos and Zitos see opportunity in the chaos, moving to claim my syndicate's old territory. Bloody skirmishes erupt as they test the waters.

Sitting on my porch late one night, I feel the pull of my old life. I cannot stand by while my family self-destructs. But the choice has been made. This quiet life with Alessia is all that matters now. As difficult as it is to watch from a distance, the darkness will have to fight on without me.

Alessia

The morning sun streams into our new bedroom, stirring me from sleep. I stretch and revel in the simple luxury of waking up next to Marco, no alarms or obligations rushing us. We have all the time in the world now.

Marco stirs beside me, his arm draped loosely over my waist. His eyes blink open and he smiles.

"Good morning, my love," he says, his voice still husky with sleep.

"Good morning," I reply, snuggling into his chest.

We lie together in comfortable silence, hands idly caressing each other's skin. No words need to be said. The peace between us is palpable.

Eventually Marco sighs, "I suppose we should start planning our day."

I prop myself up on one elbow. "We could look at some of those brochures your real estate agent left. Pick out a nice little house with a big backyard."

Marco grins. "As long as it has a master bedroom fit for a king and queen."

I swat his chest playfully. "Is that all you think about?"

"With you lying here looking like that? Absolutely." His eyes smolder as he pulls me in for a long, deep kiss.

When we finally break apart, breathless, I say, "Well, a king-sized bed is non-negotiable. But I also want space for an art studio."

Marco nods. "Of course. And plenty of room to grow our own vegetables."

My heart swells thinking of the simple life we'll build together. No more looking over our shoulders, no more violence. Just peace, and love, and each other.

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