Page 23 of Tormented Oath

"Am I?" The words come out bitter. "Because from where I'm sitting, I'm failing spectacularly. He's drinking more, hanging out with people who remind me way too much of our parents' old crowd. I was supposed to protect him from all that, give him a normal life, but instead?—"

Stefano's hand finds mine in the darkness, warm and solid. "Instead, you're carrying a weight that should never have been yours to begin with."

The simple touch, the understanding in his voice—it's too much. I pull my hand away, needing space. I need distance from his warmth, his insight, the way he sees right through my carefully constructed walls.

"Tony's my responsibility," I say firmly. "Has been since our parents died. Everything I do, every choice I make..." I swallow hard, guilt threatening to choke me. "It's all for him."

Stefano is quiet for a long moment, guiding the car through streets that get progressively darker, emptier. Finally, he says, "It doesn't have to be just you anymore, Ava."

My heart stutters. Because he means it. I can hear it in his voice, see it in the way his hands tighten on the steering wheel. He's offering something I've always dreamed of; support, stability, someone to share the burden.

And I have to betray him.

Murphy's neon sign appears ahead, a garish splash of color in the pre-dawn darkness. A few motorcycles crowd the curb, their owners probably inside losing this week's paychecks. No sign of our car.

"There," I spot it finally, parked crooked in the back lot. No Tony in sight.

Stefano pulls in smoothly, positioning the Audi for a quick exit if needed. Always tactical, even now. "Stay in the car," he starts to say.

I'm already opening my door. "Like hell."

His laugh is soft, dangerous. "Some things never change." He's out and moving before I can respond, all coiled power and lethal grace. "Stay close, then."

I follow him toward the bar's entrance, heels clicking against cracked pavement, trying to ignore how natural it feels to fall into step beside him. I’m trying even harder to ignore how much I wish this was real—his protection, his support, his care.

But it's not. It can't be.

And the sooner I remember that, the better chance I have of keeping us both alive.

Murphy's reeks of stale beer and bad decisions. The kind of place that attracts people looking to forget or be forgotten. Right now, it's mostly empty with just a few regulars slouched at the bar, some guys playing pool in the corner, and?—

"Tony!" He’s at a back table, surrounded by empty glasses and even emptier company. Three guys I don't recognize, all older, all giving off that predatory vibe that makes my skin crawl. One has his hand on Tony's shoulder, speaking low in his ear.

I start forward, but Stefano's hand catches my waist. "Let me," he says quietly.

"He's my brother."

"And those are Marchetti's men." His voice is tight. "Low-level enforcers looking to make a name for themselves. Let me handle this."

The name hits like a punch to the gut. The Marchettis are barely more than street thugs, but they're ambitious. Hungry. The kind who'd love to use a drunk D'Amato kid as leverage.

I should have known Tony would find trouble. It's practically our family motto.

Stefano moves ahead of me, his presence filling the dingy space like smoke. The change is subtle but instant, backs straightening, conversations dying, eyes dropping. Even drunk, people recognize a predator in their midst.

The guy with his hand on Tony notices last. "Mind your own business," he starts to say, then looks up. The color drains from his face. "Mr. Rega, I?—"

"Remove your hand from the boy." Stefano's voice is soft. Deadly.

The hand disappears. Tony blinks up at us, glassy-eyed and swaying. "Ava? What's...why's he here?"

"Making sure you get home safe," I say, moving to his side. He reeks of cheap whiskey and cigarettes. "Come on, time to go."

"But Aldo said...said they knew Dad." Tony's words slur together. "Said they could tell me stuff about him and Mom. About what really happened?—"

"Lying to a minor," Stefano cuts in, still in that dangerous silk voice. "Buying him alcohol. Trying to pump him for information about his family." His smile is all teeth. "Tomasso will be very interested to hear about this."

The name drops like a bomb. Two of the guys actually flinch. The third, Aldo, apparently, tries to salvage something from the conversation. "We were just talking, Mr. Rega. No harm meant."

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