Page 88 of Forbidden Vengeance

It’s more than I deserve, this tentative olive branch. More than I had any right to hope for after betraying her trust so completely.

Matteo’s agreement to limited protection complicates things further. Having DeLuca security coordinating with Mario’s teams will help against Anthony’s increasingly erratic moves, but it also means navigating decades of distrust and betrayal. I caught the looks exchanged between Antonio and Mario’s men—old wounds don’t heal easily in our world.

My phone buzzes again—another report that makes me wince.

“What’s wrong?” Mario asks sharply, noticing my distress. I hand him my phone.

Photos of a warehouse in Brooklyn, walls painted red with what used to be Anthony’s most trusted captain. “He tortured him for hours,” I tell Mario quietly. “Made an example of him in front of the other crews.”

“Fuck,” he curses, handing me my phone back. “Why this one?” Mario asks, though I suspect he already knows.

“Caught him talking to one of Siobhan’s people.” I swipe through more photos that turn my stomach. “He’s getting paranoid. Two more captains found in the East River last week. One of them…” I swallow hard. “One of them had a pregnant wife.”

Mario sucks in a breath and I can’t help but agree. The message couldn’t be clearer.

Stella kicks hard, causing me to wince. Mario’s hand immediately covers mine where it rests on my bump, his touch gentle despite the violence I know those hands are capable of.

“He’s seeing threats everywhere,” I continue, forcing myself to study the intelligence reports. “Lashing out at his own people. He doesn’t realize the real damage comes from how we’ve systematically dismantled his support system.”

“Good.” Mario’s voice holds no mercy. “Let him destroy himself from within. Makes our job easier.”

Sometimes the most dangerous wounds aren’t the ones that bleed. Sometimes they’re the ones we inflict on ourselves while searching for enemies in all the wrong places.

“He’s unraveling,” I tell Mario as we enter the safe house. The tension in my shoulders eases as the security system engages behind us. It’s ironic how this temporary shelter has become more home than anywhere I’ve lived before—maybe because it’s the first place I’ve been truly myself, not playing some calculated role.

“My sources say he executed his own cousin yesterday for suggesting they modernize their banking system,” I continue, eyes scanning the message.

Mario whistles low. “The famous Calabrese mental stability strikes again. Johnny would be so proud—keeping the family tradition of paranoid breakdowns alive.”

But something about the pattern of Anthony’s violence makes me uneasy. I sink into the leather sofa, trying to organize my thoughts. “It’s not just random brutality anymore. He’s specifically targeting anyone who suggests change or modernization. The violence is getting more…personal.” I struggle to find the right words.

He’s becoming like his uncle Johnny—all cruel impulse without calculation.

“A desperate Anthony Calabrese is infinitely more dangerous than a rational one,” Mario agrees, his hand finding the small of my back as he sits beside me.

My phone lights up with another report that makes my blood run cold. Anthony’s called in old favors, gathering forces from families that still cling to traditional power structures. He’s planning something big—I can feel it in my bones, the same instinct that’s kept me alive in this world of calculated violence.

But then I watch Mario coordinate with Matteo’s security teams, seeing these careful new alliances form. His voice is steady as he issues orders, seamlessly integrating his brother’s men with our own protection detail.

Maybe we’re finally building something stronger than Anthony can tear down.

Maybe we’re creating the future I want for our daughter, one careful step at a time.

29

MARIO

The tentative truce with Matteo is testing every ounce of control Giuseppe ever beat into me. Like this morning’s strategy session.

“The security rotation needs adjusting,” my perfect brother announces, studying the plans like he’s still the only one who knows how to run an operation. His fingers tap against the desk and the sound irritates me.

“My men know what they’re doing,” I respond coolly, leaning back in my chair with deliberate casualness. “Or have you forgotten who trained half of them?”

Matteo’s eyes are cold. “Before or after you tried to destroy the family?”

“After. Their skills improved dramatically once they stopped following your outdated protocols.” I catch the slight tick in his jaw and can’t help but smirk. God, this is just too easy. “Amazing what happens when people stop blindly following big brother’s orders.”

“This isn’t a game, Mario,” my brother snaps.

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