Page 36 of Silent Vows

MATTEO

Military jets flank us on both sides, close enough that I can see the pilots’ faces through their cockpit glass. Too close. Dangerously close. Bella remains in my lap, her fingers digging into my shoulders as our pilot executes another evasive maneuver. The wound in my arm throbs with each movement, blood seeping through the fresh bandage, but I barely notice. All my focus is on getting my wife out of this alive.

The morning sun catches on the jets’ wings, creating deadly metal angels bracketing our flight path. They’re herding us, I realize. Like wolves circling prey, waiting for the kill order. “They’re boxing us in,” I manage to say. “Forcing us towards Kennedy.”

“Sir,” the pilot’s voice crackles through the intercom, tension evident even through the static. “They’re threatening to shoot us down if we don’t comply.”

“They’re bluffing,” I respond, though I’m not entirely sure. The fact that Carmine has military backing suggests his reach extends far beyond what I’d anticipated. My uncle-in-law has apparently been planning this coup longer than any of us realized. “Keep on course for the private strip in Montreal.”

“The fuel line’s been hit,” the pilot reports grimly. Through the window, I catch sight of liquid trailing from our wing like a dark ribbon against the sky. “We won’t make it to Montreal.”

Bella stiffens in my arms, but her voice remains steady when she asks, “Options?”

I almost smile despite our dire situation. My wife, already thinking like a strategist. Giovanni would be proud. “Antonio,” I speak into my phone, calculating distances and possibilities, “how close are we to the backup location?”

“Twenty minutes out, Boss. But there’s a problem.” Antonio’s voice is tight in a way that makes my blood run cold. “Bianca’s missing.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, worse than any bullet. “What do you mean, missing?”

My heart pounds against my ribs as scenarios flash through my mind—each one worse than the last. Bianca, my daughter, my greatest vulnerability. The one person I’ve spent seventeen years protecting from the truth about her parentage, about what my father did, about why Sophia really had to die.

“She never made it to the safe house.” Antonio’s voice carries notes I’ve never heard from him before—concern, fear, guilt. “Her security detail was found dead ten minutes ago.”

Beside me, Bella inhales sharply. She’s close enough to hear both sides of the conversation, close enough to feel how my body has gone rigid with tension. The military jets edge closer, but they’re suddenly the least of my concerns.

“Johnny or Carmine?” she asks quietly, her mind already connecting dots. Her hand finds mine, squeezing gently. The gesture grounds me, helps me think past the panic trying to cloud my judgment.

“Neither.” The pieces click into place with sickening clarity. “She went willingly. Didn’t she, Antonio?”

“Security footage shows her meeting someone at a private airstrip three hours ago.” Antonio pauses, and I already know what he’s going to say. Know it in my bones. “It was Father Romano.”

“The priest from our wedding?” Bella’s brow furrows, but I see the moment understanding dawns in her eyes. Because of course—who better to manipulate a teenage girl than the priest who’s known her since birth? The man who heard her confessions, dried her tears, became the father figure she thought I failed to be.

My jaw clenches so hard I taste copper. “He’s been close to our family for years. Close to Bianca.” Too close. The priest had known Giuseppe, had heard his confessions, knew exactly what those medical records would prove. What they would do to Bianca if she ever learned the truth.

“Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.” Rage burns hot in my veins as pieces of a decade-old puzzle finally align. “Father Romano was my father’s confessor. He knows things…about my father, about Sophia…”

The knowledge sits like acid in my stomach. All these years, I thought I was protecting Bianca by keeping her close. Instead, I left her vulnerable to the one man who knew every dark secret our family possessed.

“Now they’ll use her against you,” Bella finishes, her analytical mind cutting straight to the heart of it. Something dark crosses her face, and I know she’s thinking of the video, of Sophia’s final moments. But what she doesn’t understand yet is that the video isn’t just about Sophia’s death—it’s about why she had to die, about what my father did, about secrets that could destroy not just me, but everything I’ve built to protect Bianca.

The plane lurches suddenly, dropping altitude so fast my stomach rises to my throat.

“Sir,” the pilot’s voice cuts in again, tight with barely controlled panic. “We’re losing altitude. We need to land. Now.”

My mind races through scenarios, each worse than the last. If we land at a proper airport, Carmine’s people will be waiting. If we crash…My arms tighten around Bella instinctively. I’ve already lost my daughter to this mess; I won’t lose my wife too.

“The lake,” Bella says suddenly. “There.” She points out the window where a large body of water glints in the sun like a silver promise. “Can we land on water?”

The pilot’s response is immediate: “It’s risky, but possible. Better than crashing in the forest.”

“Do it,” I order, already reaching for the emergency kit under my seat. Years of paranoia—of planning for every contingency—might just save our lives. Inside the waterproof bag are weapons, cash, and documents. Everything we need to disappear, to become ghosts until we can find Bianca.

“You’ve done this before,” Bella observes as she helps me prepare. Her hands are steady despite the fear I see in her eyes. Fear she’s trying to hide from me, just like I’m trying to hide my terror about Bianca.

I check my spare gun, then hand her a smaller one. The weight of it looks wrong in her artist’s hands, hands meant for creating beauty, not dealing death. “You know how to use this?”

“My father taught me.” She handles the weapon with surprising confidence, checking the magazine like she’s done it a thousand times. Another secret Gio kept—preparing his daughter for this world while pretending to keep her from it. “Though he probably never imagined I’d need those skills on my honeymoon.”

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