Page 25 of Tormented Oath

The city lights blur through my tears, turning Chicago into a watercolor painting of neon and shadow. After telling him our address, Stefano doesn't speak again. He just holds my hand tighter as we wind through empty streets toward our motel.

The contrast between his world and mine has never felt starker, his sleek Audi pulling into a parking lot where most of the cars are held together with duct tape and prayers.

Tony stirs as we park, muttering something that sounds like “dad” before falling silent again. My heart clenches.

"Let me help get him inside," Stefano says, already moving to open the back door.

I should maintain some boundaries, keep some distance, but Tony's dead weight between us feels like a metaphor for everything I can't handle alone anymore.

We manage to get him up the stairs and into our room without incident. The fluorescent lights are harsh after the darkness, highlighting every water stain on the ceiling, every crack in the walls. I try not to think about what Stefano must think of this place.

Tony flops onto his bed fully clothed. I start to remove his shoes, an echo of countless other nights like this, but Stefano beats me to it.

"Get him some water," he says, efficiently unlacing Tony's boots. "And aspirin if you have it. He'll need it soon."

The simple competence in his voice, the way he handles my brother with careful dignity despite the circumstances—it does something to my chest that I can't examine too closely.

I busy myself getting water and pills, setting them on the nightstand. When I turn back, Stefano is studying me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.

"What?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious about my smeared makeup, my wrinkled dress, the general disaster that is my life right now.

"You don't have to do this alone anymore." He steps closer, and the air charges between us. "Let me help."

Three simple words that could change everything. Fix everything.

Destroy everything.

"I can't," I whisper, though everything in me screams to accept. To let him in. To believe that maybe, just maybe, there's a way out of this maze that doesn't end in betrayal.

Instead of arguing, he pulls something from his pocket. Car keys. His car keys.

"Take it," he says, pressing them into my hand. "You need reliable transportation. Something safe."

I stare at the keys, then at him. "Stefano, I can't?—"

"You can and you will." His voice brooks no argument. "I'll have Tommaso pick me up. And I'll send someone tomorrow to look at your car, get it running properly."

"Why?" The question comes out small, vulnerable. "Why are you doing this?"

He catches my chin, tilting my face up to his. The intensity in his eyes steals my breath. "You know why."

And I do. That's what terrifies me.

Because how am I supposed to betray someone who looks at me like I'm everything he's been searching for? Who helps my drunk brother without judgment? Who offers support without demanding anything in return?

Who might actually be exactly what Tony and I need to survive?

I stand in the doorway of our motel room, watching Stefano make a call, presumably to Tommaso. His figure cuts a sharp silhouette against the pre-dawn sky, power and authority evident in every line of his body.

Even here, in this rundown place that smells like old cigarettes and broken dreams, he looks untouchable.

Except he's not. Not really. Because I'm supposed to be finding his weak points, gathering intel that could destroy everything he's built.

The weight of his car keys burns in my palm.

Tony's soft snores drift from behind me, punctuated by occasional mumbles. At least he's sleeping it off safely, not passed out in some mob-connected bar or worse. All thanks to the man I'm supposed to betray.

Stefano ends the call and turns back to me. Even in the harsh fluorescent lighting, he's beautiful.

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