Page 8 of The Don's Eternal Vows

Crouched in my makeshift shelter, I struggle to catch my breath. The sound of battle rages around me, a violent symphony of gunshots, shouts, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground.

"Gianni," I whisper, my voice trembling. "Please be safe."

From my hiding spot, I watch Gianni stand tall amidst the chaos. His midnight blue suit is a stark contrast against the dull warehouse backdrop. His dark and intense eyes scan the battlefield with unwavering focus, ready to lead this war like the warrior he is.

"Hold the line!" Gianni's gravelly voice booms over the gunfire. "Marco, flank left! Antonio, cover the entrance!"

I can't help but admire his composure. Even with bullets whizzing past, he remains unshaken, a rock in a stormy sea.

A guard falls near me, blood pooling beneath him. My stomach churns. "Gianni, get to cover!" I cry out, unable to contain my fear.

He glances my way, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Stay down, amore. I've got this."

But I can see the truth in his eyes. We're outnumbered, and our men are falling fast.

Gianni's jaw clenches, his mind working furiously. I recognize that look - he's formulating a plan. His hands move in quick, decisive gestures, directing the remaining guards.

Three more of our men fall. I grip the edge of a crate, my knuckles white. Gianni's resolve is unshakeable, but will it be enough? I stand to warn him, to advise him to retreat, to leave this battle for another day.

Suddenly, a deafening crack splits the air. Pain explodes in my side, white-hot and searing. I cry out, the sound tearing from my throat before I can stop it.

“Gianni,” I scream, my hand reaching to my side. Hot, sticky blood. It’s hard to breathe, and my legs tremble as I slowly look up to see my husband’s ashen face staring right at me.

I shake my head, and I don’t know why.

"Genoveva!" Gianni's usually controlled voice breaks with panic, and he runs towards me.

I stumble, my legs giving way. The world tilts sideways as I collapse. My elegant coat feels warm and wet. Blood, I say softly—my blood.

Gianni's face comes into view, his dark eyes wide with fear. "No, no, no," he mutters, gathering me into his arms. His touch, usually so gentle, is frantic now.

"It's okay," I try to say, but the words come out as a gasp. The pain is overwhelming, threatening to pull me under.

"Stay with me, amore," Gianni pleads, his voice raw. "Look at me, Genoveva."

I force my eyes to focus on his face. Time seems to slow, the chaos around us fading to a distant roar. In this moment, there's only us: me and the man I've loved since childhood.

"Gianni," I whisper, reaching up to touch his face. "I'm sorry."

His grip on me tightens. "Don't you dare apologize. You're going to be fine, you hear me?"

But I can see the truth in his eyes. The fear. The desperation. And beneath it all, a love so fierce it takes my breath away.

Looking into his eyes, my mind floods with memories: our wedding day, Gianni's eyes shining as I walked down the aisle; our honeymoon in Sicily, stolen kisses under a golden sun; our first home, paint-splattered and laughing as we decorated. Each memory flashes by, vivid and precious.

"Remember," I whisper, my voice barely audible, "that little café in Rome?"

Gianni nods, his jaw clenched tight. "Where you spilled espresso all over my new suit."

I manage a weak smile. "You didn't even get mad."

"How could I? You looked so beautiful when you laughed."

The pain is fading now, replaced by a creeping numbness. I know what it means, but I can't bear to see Gianni's heartbreak.

"Live for me," I plead, summoning the last of my strength. "Promise me, Gianni. Live."

His composure shatters. A sob tears from his throat as he clutches me tighter. "Don't ask me that, amore. I can't—look, we’re going to get out of here. Marco," he screams over the gunfire, looking around like a madman. “Louis, Basilio, someone please -” he roars.

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