Page 61 of Beautiful Vows

There’s a crackle of static, and then a voice filters through the speakers. It’s Nicolai’s voice, a ghostly echo from beyond the grave.

“There’s a girl here, Ricci. She’s the double of the girl in photos that dad has. You know the one who the Syndicate killed, Aurora Moretti, and she’s here at Dad's Mafia party. What are the coincidences?”

“Get her name and send me a picture, and I’ll run it through the facial recognition software,” Ricardo responds.

The recording screeches, jumping forward in time, and Nicolai’s voice returns. “I really think it’s her daughter. Father told me there was a rumor she had one before she was killed.”

“Keep hold of her, and we’ll take her and question her. If it’s her, we’ll kill her. Wipe out the Moretti line forever. Just like dad wanted.”

"But if it's her. It would make me powerful."

"Don't be fucking stupid," Ricardo's voice grunts. "It would make her powerful."

The words hang in the air. From my periphery, I see Ricardo’s face contorting from a mask of fury to one of fear.

He opens his mouth, but before he can respond, another figure emerges from the shadows, his footsteps heavy and purposeful.

Antonio Conti.

“What … What are you doing here?” Ricardo asks, still hiding behind me.

“Stand up and be a man, not a fucking coward.” Antonio moves to stand beside Dante, his gaze fixed on Ricardo with an intensity that could shatter stones.

Ricardo stands up, but not before pressing a knife against my throat.

“You planned to kill my daughter,” Antonio growls.

“Daughter…” Ricardo chokes out.

And then another figure joins them. Standing on the other side of Dante is my father, his expression unreadable but his presence a palpable force.

The three men together look impenetrable, and my body feels like it’s finally giving out.

“And you think you’re going to kill my sons,” he rumbles, his voice carrying the weight of all the Dons before him.

The air is thick with tension, before a flurry of movement erupts from the shadows.

Antonio levels his gun at Ricardo, his finger tightening on the trigger with a deliberate slowness. “Nobody tries to kill what is mine. Nobody.”

The gunshot is deafening in the confined space. The flash of the muzzle sears my retinas. Dante already shot the arm carrying his gun and now Ricardo staggers, clutching his arm as a bloom of crimson spreads across the fabric of his other sleeve.

“It’s just a flesh wound … for now,” Antonio says menacingly.

Dominic is next, his aim resolute as he squeezes the trigger, the bullet tearing through flesh and muscle. “And nobody harms my children.”

Ricardo snarls in pain, his face contorted in agony as he slumps to his knees, his fingers pressing on the wound in his thigh.

Dante levels his gun at Ricardo, his expression cold and determined. “And nobody, including your brother, takes what is mine.”

A deafening roar fills the air as the bullet whizzes past. My body freezing at the sight of the crimson droplets spraying in every direction. Behind me, he howls in anguish, his hands clutching at the ruined flesh of his ear as he rocks back and forth, whimpering like a wounded animal.

And that’s when another figure emerges.

Lia.

Dressed in black from head to toe. She holds her head up high, but it’s her blue eyes that are ablaze with an unstoppable determination that could lay cities to waste.

With confidence, she points the barrel of her gun at Ricardo’s head.

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