Page 51 of Silent Vows

“He died thinking he’d failed you.” Johnny’s smile widens, showing too many teeth. “Thinking his only child was too weak to carry on his legacy. And he was right, wasn’t he? Look at you now—Matteo’s pet artist, playing at being donna when we both know you’re just a scared little girl with paint under her nails.”

I think of my father’s proud smile at my first art show. Of his hands steady on mine as he taught me to shoot. Of all the lessons he gave me that I never understood until now.

“You want to know what my father really taught me, Johnny?” My voice comes out steady, cold. Fifteen seconds. “He taught me to see the whole canvas. To look for weaknesses. To understand that sometimes the most dangerous player is the one you underestimate.”

Johnny laughs loudly at that. “And you think that’syou?”

Thirteen seconds.

“Trying to delay us while they escape?” He tsks, the sound obscene in the ancient tunnel as he notices me checking my watch. “Brave, but ultimately pointless. There’s only one exit, and my men are already there.”

I check my watch. Ten seconds. “Sure about that?” Adrenaline makes everything sharper, clearer. I catalog details like I would for a painting—the way his suit is perfectly pressed even now, how his signet ring catches the dim light, the slight tremor in his gun hand that betrays his cocaine habit. “Youpeople never learn, do you? Always underestimating what we’ll do to protect our family.”

“Family?” Johnny laughs, the sound bouncing off stone walls like broken glass. “You’ve been married two days. What do you know about family?”

“I know that real family chooses each other.” Five seconds. I shift my weight, preparing to move. “Blood is just genetics. Love? That’s a choice.”

Understanding dawns on Johnny’s face just as the timer hits zero. I dive around the corner as the explosion rocks the tunnel, the concussion stealing my breath even as I roll away from falling debris. Centuries-old stone and earth cascade down, cutting off half of Johnny’s scream.

Through the settling dust, I hear him coughing, raging. “You fucking bitch! I’ll find you! I’ll make you watch while I kill them both—your precious husband and his bastard daughter!”

“No.” My voice carries over the sound of shifting rubble. “You won’t. Because my father taught me one more thing, Johnny.” I pause, thinking of Papa’s last lesson—the one he taught me without words. “He taught me that real power isn’t about violence or territory or blood. It’s about love. About family. About what we’ll do to protect the people who choose us.”

His answer is lost in another crash of falling stone, but I’m already running, following the emergency lights toward the exit. My lungs burn with every breath, stone dust coating my throat, but I don’t slow down. Not with Matteo bleeding, not with Bianca still weak from drugs, not with everything we’ve fought for hanging by a thread.

I emerge into predawn darkness to find Matteo’s security team waiting, guns trained on bodies that used to be Calabrese’s men. The sight should horrify me—these men I’d probably served drinks to at my wedding, now cooling in the dirt. Instead, I feel nothing but relief.

“Mrs. DeLuca.” Antonio helps me into the waiting SUV where Matteo and Bianca occupy the back seat. “All clear?”

“Johnny’s trapped on the other side of about ten tons of rock.” I slide in beside my husband, immediately checking his bandages. “He’ll dig out eventually, but…”

“But we’ll be long gone.” Matteo pulls me close with his good arm, pressing his lips to my temple. His skin still burns with fever, but his eyes are clear as they meet mine. “You impossible, brilliant woman.”

“I learned from the best.” My voice falters as the events of the night catch up with me. The monastery, Romano’s death, Johnny’s trap, Matteo’s blood still staining my hands. “Both of you.”

From her place on Matteo’s other side, Bianca reaches across to squeeze my hand. No words are needed—we’ve forged something stronger than blood in that tunnel, something that can’t be broken by secrets or lies or DNA tests.

“Where to?” Antonio asks from the front seat as we speed into the lightening sky.

Matteo’s good hand finds mine, his wedding ring pressing against my palm like a promise. “Home,” he says simply. “Take us home.”

As dawn light paints the sky in shades of gold and crimson, I think about how many meanings that word can have. Home isn’t just a place—it’s people, it’s trust, it’s love despite darkness. Or maybe because of it.

The SUV speeds toward safety as the sun rises behind us, turning the monastery into a dark silhouette against the morning sky. We may have escaped its ancient walls, but I know the secrets buried there will follow us. Some truths refuse to stay buried, no matter how much stone you pile on top of them.

But that’s tomorrow’s battle. For now, I have my husband’s blood on my hands, my stepdaughter’s trust in my heart, and a future that’s terrifying and beautiful and ours.

For now, that’s enough.

23

MATTEO

The mansion’s medical suite fills my senses with sharp antiseptic and the metallic tang of blood as the doctor finishes redressing my shoulder. I barely register the sting of new stitches, too captivated by the scene through the observation window.

Bella and Bianca sit in the adjacent room, dark heads bent together over steaming cups of tea, talking quietly. My daughter still looks too pale, shadows under her eyes from whatever drugs Romano pumped into her system, but color is finally returning to her cheeks. And Bella…my impossible wife maintains a casual posture while her eyes constantly scan the room, checking exits, monitoring movements outside. She’s become a protector as fierce as any of my trained guards.

The sight of them together does something to my chest that has nothing to do with my injury. They mirror each other unconsciously—the same slight tilt of the head, the same way of cradling their cups.

---