Page 37 of Bound By Honor

A nurse appears, clipboard in hand. “Mr. Vitale? We need to prep you for surgery.”

Dominic grabs my arm as I turn to follow her. “This isn’t just about Aurora anymore. The Rossis sent terms.”

Ice slides down my spine. “What terms?”

“Later.” His grip tightens. “After the surgery. If you survive it.”

“Dom—”

“Go.” He releases me, something like respect flickering in his eyes. “Save our sister. We’ll handle the rest.”

The prep room feels too small, too sterile. The sharp tang of antiseptic burns my nostrils, mixing with the metallic scent of blood that still clings to my clothes. Overhead, fluorescent lights hum an endless drone, punctuated by the steady beep of monitors and the soft squeak of nurses’ shoes on linoleum. Everything feels too bright, too harsh—a stark contrast to the shadows we usually inhabit.

My body screams in protest as they position me, every movement pulling at my barely-healed gunshot wound. The cold surgical steel against my skin sends a shiver down my spine, reminding me of another hospital room, another night when I failed to save someone I loved.

“Last chance to change your mind,” the anesthesiologist says, preparing the injection.

I think of Aurora’s laugh, of her defiance in the face of danger, of the way she looked at me that night in the safe house. “No chance in hell.”

The drugs start to pull me under, but I fight it long enough to grab Dominic’s sleeve. “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“If I don’t make it...” The words taste like ash. “Tell her I?—”

“Tell her yourself.” His voice softens slightly. “When you both wake up.”

The world fades to black, but not before I hear his whispered addition: “And forgive me for what comes next.”

I surface slowly, pain radiating through my body. The first sound I register is that blessed, steady beep of monitors—but not mine. Hers.

“She’s stable.” Enzo’s voice comes from somewhere nearby. “Surgery was successful. You did it, you crazy bastard.”

Relief floods me, so intense it brings tears to my eyes. “When can I see her?”

“Open your eyes properly, Romeo,” Marco says, his attempt at humor barely masking his concern. “She’s right beside you.”

I turn my head, fighting against the lingering effects of anesthesia. Through the haze, I see her in the adjacent bed, her face peaceful in sleep. Someone’s braided her dark hair, the plait trailing across her pillow like ink. Even pale and still, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“The nurses are calling you two the hospital’s Romeo and Juliet,” Enzo adds with a weak smile. “Though thankfully with a much happier ending.”

“The extended version,” Marco agrees, “where Romeo actually saves the girl instead of screwing everything up.”

I reach out, my fingers brushing the space between our beds. One of the nurses must have pushed them close together, understanding something about us that transcends medical protocol. The simple kindness makes my throat tight.

I force my eyes open fully, finding all three brothers gathered between our beds. Their expressions are a mix of gratitude and something darker, something that makes my instincts prickle with warning.

“The Rossis,” I rasp. “What terms?”

He won’t meet my eyes. “They’ll accept nothing less than an alliance. Through marriage.”

“They want it done immediately,” Dominic says, his voice carrying that deadly calm I know too well. “Two months from today. Franco Rossi wants a quick ceremony, while you’re still...” He glances at my medical equipment. “Indisposed.”

The monitors spike wildly as I try to sit up. “That bastard wants to marry her while I can’t stop it.”

“Luciano—”

“There’s more.” Enzo steps forward, his usual smirk gone. “They’re insisting she move into their compound. To‘prepare for the wedding.’”

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