Page 40 of Relentless Refuge

“But I should have trusted you and respected your wishes. We are a team, and I didn’t value your leadership as I should have. I know I can learn a lot from you.” Her hands grip the lapels of my jacket, splattered with the blood of our loved ones. She doesn’t seem to notice anything except my presence, however, and I’m not going to be the one to point that out.

“Shh, it’s over now. You’re with me where you belong, and we have the upper hand now.” I again smooth my hand up and down her arm as the car continues to bump along the road.

The car falls into a companionable silence until we reach the house. Victor parks out front where a host of men waits for us. Iglance at the clock radio before Victor shuts off the car. It’s well into the night now, and exhaustion plays in my mind. This fight will never be over. Our enemies will always come for us, but at least this battle is won and we are wiser because of it. They, too, are wiser. Now the Bratva know that our two families are bound together and we are stronger as one than we are divided.

“Ready?” I ask her, but she doesn’t get a chance to not be ready. Victor rounds the car and opens the door in silence. His somber expression as we climb out is not reflective of the victory we’ve won, nor is it matching the way the rest of the Family cheers and hollers that our queen is safe.

I step out of the car and offer my hand to her. She takes it and climbs out to another round of cheers and applause. Faces from both Families beam with pride and accomplishment. There are at least fifty men here, welcoming us home. Isabella’s mother stands on the top step near the front door next to Nicolo, who holds her trembling form. She’s lost enough in the past year to make a person wish they’d never been born. To lose her daughter would have been a travesty.

Isabella weaves through the crowd of men who continue to applaud and pat her on the back as she makes her way toward her mother. At the top step, she wraps her arms around the older woman and they cry together. This show of emotion isn’t something my men have ever seen, or hers, for that matter, but having a woman in charge is different from a man leading. Women are softer in some ways, stronger in others, and none of it makes her less their leader or less capable.

I follow her with my shoulders squared, proud to say she’s my wife and she is the strongest woman I’ve ever met. I mount the stairs knowing the way I found her—with her enemy’s gun in hand and pointed at him—is the way I’d have found any one ofmy men, myself included. She kept her head and made a way out, and that is the hallmark of strength that no one will ever be able to say she doesn’t have.

Joining them, I put my arm around Isabella’s waist as she mumbles something to her mother and clings to my side. I stand with pride, looking out over the dimly lit sidewalk in front of my house as all the men from both Families—now one Family unit—crowd close enough to hear me.

“Tonight, we accomplished two tasks we previously thought impossible. We disarmed our enemy and put him in his place, and we came together as one.” A cheer of celebration cuts me off, and I let it continue even as the porch lights on surrounding homes come on. I see eyes peering at the mob from between curtains. My neighbors know me. They’ve seen this sort of thing before, so I’m sure they’re not surprised.

“Our queen is home, back where she belongs, and she is tired. We will be retiring for the evening, but before we do, I want to tell you how honored I am to serve you all and lead you.” I lean down to her and ask, “Do you have anything to say?”

Isabella nods and swipes at her eyes. I can see her moment of vulnerability passing even as she takes a deep breath to address her family. “I am proud of you all. Tonight, you all showed bravery and courage in the face of something that could have ended very differently. We will lay Chase and Warren to rest this week as brothers and comrades. Their blood was spilled by our enemy, but we don’t have to continue the war any longer.”

She looks up at me, and I see her stand a bit straighter, her chin a bit higher as she continues, “Their lives are over now because they sacrificed them to save mine. The only thing I want is for us to come together as one and remain strong. Because our enemyis a lion on the prowl, and alone, we will all fall, but together, we are strong.”

One final round of cheers and applause erupts, and Isabella’s mother offers her a kiss on the cheek and a hug. She squeezes my hand, urging me to watch over her daughter before Nicolo leads her away. One by one, we thank the men who approach us and offer their condolences for our losses, and soon, we are alone with Owen.

He stands at the bottom of the steps with his hands wringing, staring at his feet. His brother is gone, lost to a war that shouldn’t have happened. If they had come around her when she took the reins, we would have shown our enemy from the very beginning that we are stronger together as one. His head hangs in shame and in grief. He’s learned his lesson, though it wasn’t her mercy that taught it to him.

“I’m sorry, Bella. I should have stopped him.”

I feel her stiffen at Owen’s words, but she is too kind to say a harsh word to him. She knows firsthand how desperately this part hurts, to have someone you’re close to ripped from your life.

“All is forgiven, Owen. Our Family has to heal now.” She pulls closer to him, and his head rises. I see the pain in his eyes even though he won’t shed a tear.

“And with an heir, we are all one. Chase knew that. It’s why he told the Family to follow you.” Owen nods. “We all support you now.” Owen lingers for a moment even though Isabella doesn’t respond anymore, and then he turns and walks away. We watch him disappear into the darkness, then tail lights flash in the distance before he’s gone.

“Let’s go in,” I tell her, turning her toward the door. Warren isn’t here to open for us. After his failure to keep Isabella safe inside my home, he insisted that he lead the charge to rescue her and he was the first to fall. Chase’s body tumbled after Warren’s, and those two deaths catapulted the rest of our men into action for vengeance and victory.

Inside, she walks silently with me. I take her hand and draw her toward the stairs, then lead her to our room. Her quiet demeanor now that we’re alone is indicative of only one thing. She knows that I will have questions. She stirred her Family to follow and obey me by revealing a truth she’s kept secret, and I don’t know how long she’s kept it.

In our bedroom, I shut the door and lean against it as she walks across the room and begins to undress. She has a bruise on her right bicep, maybe evidence of where someone grabbed her, likely when they snatched her off the street. Otherwise, there isn’t a scratch on her. Pine needles cling to her hair and clothing. She moves slowly with deliberate movements. She’s exhausted and overwhelmed, but she’ll never admit it. The tears she shed earlier are the only sign she will show me that anything has happened, and tomorrow, she’ll go back to normal. So, tonight is all I have.

“Bella mia, is it true?” I ask, though I remain unmoving by the door.

She looks up at me over her shoulder out of the corner of her eye. Then she immediately pauses what she’s doing. Her shirt and bra dangle from a finger as she slowly looks back at the floor, then the mirror in front of her. I stare at her reflection, large hazel eyes, perky tits, somber expression.

“Is what true?” she asks, meeting my gaze in the mirror. Her body is relaxed, not tense or under stress. For some reason, it’s hard for her to admit I may be asking this question after everything that’s happened, but I have to know.

“You’re carrying my heir?” I push off the door and move toward her. She doesn’t bristle as I touch her arms and kiss the top of her shoulder. “My son?”

Isabella breaks the concentrated gaze and sighs. Her chin drops. “I need an heir too, Marco. How can I expect my child to be divided, to choose one Family over the other?”

“Mmm,” I grunt, realizing her dilemma. The significance of what happened this evening with our Families is lost on her, and she doesn’t realize it. “So you think our son will have to choose whom to serve? Whom to lead?”

“Or daughter,” she says defensively, and I want to help her not feel threatened. I kiss the top of her shoulder and let my hands slide down her arms to hers. I gather them and place all four of our hands on her stomach.

“Or perhaps our little one will lead our Family, because we are one now, and so our Family is one.” I look up at the mirror to see her catch my gaze again.

“One?”

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