Page 6 of The Don's Eternal Vows

My fists clench involuntarily. If Genoveva says they were real, they were real. Which means...

"Someone from inside swapped them," she continues, echoing my thoughts. "Or stole them in transit."

Her gaze sweeps the room between Marco and me, commanding attention without raising her voice. "We need to inspect the truck fleet—every vehicle, every inch. Look for tracking devices and signs of tampering."

I nod, a surge of pride mixing with the anger in my gut. This is why I need her. While I'm seeing red, she's seeing solutions.

"Smart," I growl. "But who? Who'd have the balls to pull this off?"

Genoveva's eyes meet mine, a flicker of something—concern; fear passing through them. "Someone with inside knowledge," she says softly. "Someone close or an outsider with eyes on us. They could be getting information from anywhere."

The implications hang heavy in the air. The possibility of a traitor in our midst makes my blood boil, and the possibility of an enemy knowing our every move is even worse.

I nod, my jaw clenched tight. We won’t get any closer to fixing this until we inspect the trucks ourselves, as Genoveva suggested.

"Let's go," I mutter, already moving towards the door. Genoveva falls into step beside me, our rhythms perfectly in sync, Marco behind us, barking orders to get the convoy ready.

As we exit the house, the silence stretches, taut as a wire. But it's not uncomfortable. With Genoveva, words are often unnecessary. I can feel her mind working, plotting our next move.

"Whoever did this," I growl under my breath, "they'll pay dearly."

Genoveva's hand brushes mine, a fleeting touch. "We'll find them, Gianni," she whispers, her voice like steel wrapped in silk. “We always come ahead.”

I nod, drawing strength from her unwavering confidence. As we walk, our steps echo in perfect unison.

I slide into the back seat of my sleek black bulletproof Mercedes, Genoveva gracefully following suit—the leather creaks beneath us as we settle in. Through the tinted windows, I watch my men file into their vehicles, a fleet of dark SUVs forming a protective cocoon around us.

"Move out," I command into the inter-vehicle comms, my voice low and husky.

The convoy lurches forward, weaving through the city streets. Buildings blur past, a kaleidoscope of steel and glass. My eyes dart from mirror to mirror, ever vigilant. Old habits die hard.

"My love," I start, my voice softer than usual. She turns, her hazel eyes questioning. "I... I need you to know something."

She waits, patient as always. I swallow hard, forcing the words out.

"Without you, I'd be nothing. This empire, this life... it's built on your brilliance as much as my strength."

Genoveva's eyes widen slightly, a rare crack in her composed facade. I press on, compelled by a sudden, overwhelming need to make her understand. Words will never be enough to express how much she’s meant to me all these years. Running a mafia faction has been the most terrible burden to bear, but she’s the one who has made the path smoother.

When my Sotto Capo was assassinated, she filled his role until we found a replacement. When a spy was in our midst, her intuition guided us in seeping him out. When our shipments ran into losses, she strategized to fix our bottleneck problems.

She is our strongest link, our guiding light.

Not just me, but every member of this unit owes her eternal gratitude.

"You're not just my partner and my foundation; My anchor."

My hand finds hers in the darkness, our fingers intertwining. For a moment, I'm not Gianni Montagna, the feared Raven. I'm just a man, baring his soul to the one person who truly sees him.

Chapter 3

Genoveva

The warehouse looms before us, a concrete behemoth holding the truth. I step out of the car, my heels clicking on the asphalt. Gianni's at my side in an instant, and he protectively places a hand on my lower back, guiding me forward, his eyes scanning our surroundings.

"Stay close," he murmurs, his gravelly voice sending a shiver down my spine, not from fear but from how sexy he is when he worries for me.

I don’t bother telling him we’re safe here. This is our terrain. With my Gianni, logic is erased from the dictionary when it comes to my safety in question.

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