Page 47 of Vows Made in Silence
I tighten my hold on Daniel. My voice is a vow, silent against the night.
“For this to be over… I have to get to the bottom of it.”
And God help anyone who stands in my way.
The safe house gates slide shut behind us with a mechanical groan, sealing us inside a fortress that suddenly feels too quiet. Too clean. The silence after bloodshed is always the loudest.
Leo meets us at the entrance. His eyes flick to Daniel in my arms—then to the blood on my sleeve. He doesn’t ask questions. Just nods and steps aside.
Inside, Giuliana’s waiting.
The moment she sees us, she runs. Her hands tremble as she cups Daniel’s face, brushing away dried blood and dirt. Her voice breaks with his name, cracking from the weight of emotion as she drops to her knees and pulls him tight against her. “Oh my God… Daniel.”
Tears spill from her eyes, and Daniel clings to her with the desperation of a child who’s seen too much. His little hands grab fistfuls of her blouse, like if he holds on hard enough, she’ll never disappear again. “Mommy,” he breathes out, voice shaky and soft. “You came.”
“I told you I would,” she whispers, pressing kisses to his forehead, his cheeks, his hair. Her fingers tremble as she checks for bruises, for cuts, for anything that might’ve hurt him. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”
I can’t look away.
Because this—this is what they tried to take from me.
From us.
She glances up at me, and for a second, everything pauses. The weight of the moment, the sheer devastation of what could’ve happened, crashes over us like a wave. Her eyes—full of love and pain and gratitude—lock onto mine.
“Thank you,” she mouths.
Daniel clutches both of us now, like he’s afraid we’ll vanish if he lets go. Giuliana reaches for my hand and wraps it in hers, drawing me closer into the moment. Our little boy nestled between us, our past bleeding into our present.
And for the first time, it doesn’t feel impossible.
It feels like hope.
Like a family.
She turns into me crying, and we find each other’s mouths—desperate, searching, hungry. The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s raw and unfiltered, born from fear and longing and the overwhelming relief of still being alive.
Her lips taste like salt and tears and something I’ve been starving for since the day she left.
My hands bury in her hair as she gasps against my mouth, and I grip her tight—like if I let go, the universe might find a way to rip her from me again. Her body melts into mine, soft curves pressed to hard lines, and my heart pounds with the need to claim what’s always been mine.
There’s more to come. A fire building. A reckoning between us. But right now, this—this stolen breath of heat—is ours.
She pulls away slowly, brushing Daniel’s curls from his face. “I’m going to clean him up,” she says softly, kissing the top of his head. “And I’m staying with him tonight. Until he’s asleep. He needs to know he’s safe.”
I nod, watching her lead our son down the hall, her body curved protectively around his. And even in the flickering shadows of the safe house, it’s the clearest picture of family I’ve ever seen.
But it’s a picture painted in blood and unfinished business.
14
--------
Silence Is a Weapon
I glance at Turk, who’s already tapping into the surveillance system. "I want eyes on every block. If Gallo slips so much as a breath, I want to hear it in stereo."
"Already working on it," he mutters, not looking up.
