Page 65 of Forbidden Vengeance

Anthony chuckles and slides his phone away. “You’re going to come with me,” he says, moving closer. “You’re going to make such a wonderful Calabrese bride.” His eyes gleam as he continues, making my stomach turn. “And when my heir is born, I’ll take over his training. Raise him to be the next don our family deserves.”

I don’t bother correcting him about the baby’s gender. I’ve seen how Calabrese men treat their women—like decorative possessions to be displayed and controlled.

“And you,” he reaches out to stroke my cheek, making my skin crawl, “will be my pretty little plaything. Something beautiful to bring out for events, to fill with more children.”

“And if I refuse?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

Anthony’s chuckle turns dark as he closes the remaining distance between us. His hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist and squeezing until I feel bones grinding together. I bite back a cry, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Either you play your part as the devoted mother and wife-to-be,” he says softly, “or your lover joins his father in an early grave.”

But I hear the lie in his words. Anthony will never let Mario live, no matter what I do. He’s too much like his uncle Johnny—he enjoys breaking things too much to show mercy.

My only choice is whether I want to watch it happen.

I hear my phone buzzing in Anthony’s pocket—Mario, most likely, having discovered my absence. Horror floods through me as I picture him tearing apart the penthouse, that careful DeLuca self-control splintering as he realizes I’m gone.

That I’ve put myself—put my baby—directly in harm’s way.

The emotions must play across my face because Anthony laughs, the sound echoing off my office walls. “Ah, there it is,” he taunts, squeezing my wrist harder. “That moment when you realize just how thoroughly you’ve fucked up. Did you really think you could play in our world without consequences, little party planner? That you could whore yourself out to a DeLuca exile and not pay the price?”

He yanks me to my feet. “Time to go home,cara. I have such plans for breaking that spirit of yours.”

The door explodes inward before he can move me further, and Mario fills the frame. Rage has transformed his features into something terrifying, something that reminds me exactly who raised him. His eyes are pure Giuseppe DeLuca, promising violence with a precision that makes even me shiver. Blood spatters his immaculate suit, evidence that he’s already carved through Anthony’s men to reach me.

Behind him, I catch glimpses of Dante’s team engaging with Anthony’s security in the hallway. The sounds of fighting echo off marble floors—flesh meeting flesh, bodies hitting walls.

“Get away from her,” Mario growls, and I’ve never heard that tone from him before. It’s pure violence barely contained,a promise of exactly how many ways he knows to make a man suffer.

Anthony’s smile widens as Irish accents fill the hallway. “Perfect timing,” he says smoothly, rising from the desk. “We were just discussing family arrangements.”

My world turns sideways as I realize what the true point of this was—this wasn’t just about catching me.

It was about luring Mario into a trap.

21

ELENA

The tension in my office crackles like a live wire as I watch Mario catalog threats with lethal efficiency. Three Irish enforcers in the hallway, Anthony’s smug smile, my own carefully controlled fear as I shield our unborn child with my body.

No—not our child. Anthony’s daughter, a complication that’s become the center of everything.

“Perfect timing,” Anthony says smoothly, rising from the desk. “We were just discussing family arrangements.”

“The only arrangement you need to worry about is your funeral,” Mario snarls, but I catch the slight tension in his shoulders. He’s counting exits, calculating odds. His hands are already stained with blood from fighting his way to me, but more enemies are coming. I can hear them in the hallway.

“Always so dramatic.” Anthony adjusts his cuff links with deliberate casualness. “But you might want to see what I found in Elena’s private server first.” He turns his phone screen toward us, and my heart stops. “Fascinatingcollection of shipping manifests, bank records, surveillance photos of my operations.The kind of evidence that could put someone away for a very long time—especially if they’re carrying my child.”

My blood runs cold as I recognize my own meticulous notes about the trafficking operation. Every piece of intelligence I’ve gathered, every connection I’ve documented—all of it leading back to me. Months of carefully crafted evidence that could destroy not just Anthony, but the entire Calabrese empire.

And now he has it all.

The look Mario gives me is pure fury—not at my investigating, but at the danger I’ve put myself in. His jaw clenches so hard I hear teeth grinding. “You’re not walking away from this,” he tells Anthony, his voice promising violence.

“No?” Anthony’s smile widens as more Irish voices join the chaos in the hallway. “I think you’ll findIhold all the cards. Elena’s evidence. Her baby. Her life.” He shifts closer to me, his hand finding my throat in a gesture that’s both possessive and threatening. “The question is: what areyouwilling to sacrifice to save her?”

Mario’s expression transforms into something terrifying—pure danger emerging from behind his careful control. I’ve never seen him look so lethal, so capable of absolute destruction. It should frighten me, but instead I feel oddly safe.

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