Page 14 of Mafia Heir's Broken Vows

Her silence is louder than any scream.

I scrub a hand down my face, trying to rein in the chaos inside me. I failed her once. I won't do it again. I'm trying not to lose control and fly off the handle.

"I'm not leaving until I get actual answers," I say, voice like steel.

Her eyes narrow. "Then you'll be waiting a long time. Besides, I will leave if you don't. I don't want to be here, anyway." She stands there and waits for a response.

"I'll wait." I growl, "I have nothing else to do."

"Fuck you, Alessandro." She closes herself in the only bedroom, leaving me alone looking at the picture of a boy who could be me. I rummage through the cabinets and find a bottle of whiskey, it's probably turned to turpentine by now, but I need a drink too badly to care.

I drink straight from the bottle; the glasses are all dusty.

SERAFINA

The morning light barely filters through the dusty blinds of the safe house, casting pale stripes across the wooden floor. I tiptoe through the kitchen, trying to steady my hands as I pour stale coffee into a chipped mug. Every noise feels too loud, every movement too big in the small space. I haven't slept. Not with Alessandro's accusing eyes burned into my memory. Not with the weight of Leo's secret pressing on my chest.

A sharp knock rattles the front door. My breath stalls. No one should be knocking—not here.

Alessandro is instantly alert, appearing in the doorway, his hand instinctively moving to the gun at his side. His eyes narrow at me, silently questioning.

I shake my head. No one should know we're here.

He moves to the door cautiously, peering through the peephole. Then he stiffens, the gun now in hand.

"Stay back," he whispers to me.

Slowly, he opens the door just enough to snatch the small, black box sitting on the threshold. It's plain, unmarked—except for a crimson ribbon tied around it. Alessandro closes the door with a quiet click, placing the box on the table between us. Itcould be a bomb or a finger—I have opened a finger before. It stank, and my stomach rolls at the memory.

Unexpected, unmarked gifts are almost never a good thing.

Neither of us moves. We both just stare at it for a while.

He pulls the ribbon and lifts the lid.

Inside, a single blood-red rose. Beneath it, a note.

You can't hide from me.—M

My knees buckle, and I grip the edge of the table.Fuck.

"It's Marco. He knows where we are." Why a gift? Why not just storm the place? He knows I'm here—what is he playing at?

Alessandro's expression darkens. "We need to leave." It doesn't matter where we go, they're going to find us. This is his fault; my life was fine until he came back like a fucking wrecking ball.

By the timewe reach my event planning office, it's too late. The glass door hangs from broken hinges, shards glittering on the ground like ice. The alarm is blaring as I punch in the code to try to silence it. The security company will be here soon, asking questions. Wanting to call the police. Spray-painted words stretch across the front wall in jagged red letters:

TICK TOCK.

My stomach knots and burns. This was my escape—my fresh start. And now it's been violated. I had one thing in my life not tainted by violence, and fucking crime. One damn thing!

Alessandro steps ahead of me, scanning the empty office, gun drawn. "Stay back." They're not here, this is a message—like a text only with more impact and harder to erase.

I walk inside, broken glass crunching underfoot. My carefully arranged event mock-ups, color palettes, and portfolios areshredded, torn apart, and strewn across the floor. Marco didn't just want to send a message—he wanted to destroy me. To break what I had built and make sure I had nothing left. He tried to take me, and I got away, now he's going to make me pay.

I hold my breath and fight off the urge to cry. My lip quivers, but I will not let him see me breaking.

"What is really going on, Serafina?" Alessandro says quietly. "This is not nothing—Tick Tock? That's very specific." He thinks he knows everything.

---