Page 35 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

“What does this mean?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“It means they’re not done with us.”

I swallow hard, my mind racing. I thought we were safe here, tucked away in this lodge, away from the madness of New York City. Deep down in my gut I knew better, though. I knew we could never truly escape that life.

My father nods in agreement, his face hardening with resolve. “Then we prepare for war.”

The room falls into silence again. The reality of what’s coming settles over us like a thick, suffocating fog. It’s not the first time I’ve been crushed by the oppressive weight of violence, but now I have Matteo to protect.

And Dante? He’s a part of this too, whether he wants to be or not. I glance at him again, wondering if he’ll stand by the Vitale's side through all of this.

He’s hurt because of us—because of me. And I don’t know how to make that right.

After a moment, Dante pushes himself out of his chair, wincing as he does so. “I need to check the perimeter,” he says. The uncles and my father instantly rise to follow, allowing him to take the lead on this one.

“Dante, wait.”

He stops, turning to face me, his expression guarded.

I swallow, feeling the words stick in my throat. I don’t know what to say. Don’t know how to thank him for everything he’s done. For risking his life. For being here, even when things between us are so complicated.

“Thank you,” I manage to choke out.

His eyes soften just a fraction, but he doesn’t say anything. He just nods, his gaze holding mine for a beat too long before he turns to leave.

As the men head for the door, Matteo stirs beside me. He’s been quiet this whole time, but now he’s watching Dante with wide, curious eyes.

“Dante,” he calls out, his voice small.

Dante freezes, his hand on the doorknob. He turns back slowly, his eyes flicking to Matteo. Panic stirs in my chest, slowly clawing its way up my throat.

“What is it, kid?” Dante asks, his voice rough but not unkind.

Matteo makes his way over to Dante with all the confidence of a child who has no idea how dangerous the world is. His eyes are bright and full of admiration.

“Thank you,” Matteo says, shyness making him sprint back to my side as soon as the words are out.

Dante gazes at him, his expression registering a million new emotions. He slowly strolls back to where we’re huddled on the sofa and ruffles Matteo’s hair.

“Stay safe with your mom,” he says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.

Matteo beams, clearly pleased with the attention from his new, real-life superhero. And I feel my heart twist in my chest.

Dante doesn’t know. He has no idea that the boy staring at him in wide-eyed wonder is his own flesh and blood.

As the men disappear outside, I keep my eyes trained on the door, my mind spinning with everything that’s happened. The attack, the letter, Dante’s injury, Matteo’s innocent admiration for the man who saved us.

This is only the beginning. I can feel it in my bones.

As the morning stretches on, the family scatters throughout the house. Some go to their bedrooms to catch up on much-needed sleep, others to keep watch. I find my mom and the auntsin the kitchen, arguing over breakfast ideas and brewing a giant batch of fresh coffee.

I settle in at the counter, a steaming mug of coffee clutched in my hands. Matteo sits beside me, swinging his little feet listlessly.

Suddenly, a gentle tug at my sleeve pulls me from my daze. “Can I play outside?”

I glance out the window. Snow blankets the ground, soft and untouched. It’s peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos we’ve just faced.

“Only for a little while,” I say. “Stay where I can see you.”

---