Page 51 of Vows Made in Silence
He pushed open the door softly, finding them inside. Daniel was curled up on the couch, already half-asleep, Guiliana beside him with a damp cloth in hand, gently wiping the blood and dirt from their son's face.
She looked up as Luca stepped inside, eyes red but clear, brimming with strength. A mother’s strength.
“You’re safe now," he said, voice like gravel and thunder.
____
I nod, but the tremble won’t stop. My hands won’t stop. I grip his wrist, anchoring myself.
He silences me with a kiss, deep and unyielding. It’s not tender. It’s not soft. It’s a wildfire, years of hunger and agony crashing together in a single, consuming breath. His mouth takes mine like he has every right—like I’m his to claim, to brand, to remember beneath the weight of every scar we share.
His hands grip my waist hard, dragging me closer, anchoring me to the only truth left in this blood-soaked world. There’s only his mouth, the scrape of his stubble, the low growl in his throat when I gasp into him.
He kisses me like he’s punishing himself for every year he couldn’t. Like he’s memorizing the feel of me to replace the nights he felt alone, fists clenched and jaw tight.
"Mine," he rasps into my mouth, voice wrecked. "You’ve always been mine. And I’ll never fucking let you go again."
"Never again," he says. "They’ll die first."
I nod, but my pulse pounds louder than his words. “This isn’t just about us anymore, Luca. They’re not just coming for the Moretti name. They’re coming for our bloodline.”
He doesn’t flinch. “Then we end them before they ever get close.”
We’re not just running anymore. We’re hunting.
And the ones who came for our son? They’ll bleed for every second he spent in fear.
15
--------
The Cost of Silence
Daniel's eyes open.
He frowns, lips tugging into a stubborn pout. “Mom, I’m tired.”
“I know, baby. Stay here. I need to talk with your daddy about grown up stuff.
It’s important.”
Daniel sighs but nods. “Okay. But you better come back. Promise?”
“Promise,” I whisper.
He puts his head down and we walk out of the door and down the hall.
Luca steps closer, eyes dark. “Thank you.”
“We have very little time before someone else makes a move. Gallo won’t sit still now. He’s poked the beast, and he’ll either run—or try to kill us first.”
Luca nods once, the smallest curve of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. But it’s not joy—it’s hunger.
He pulls me towards the love seat that creaks under his weight, and the air between us changes—charged and brittle. I feel the warmth of his body radiating against my side, a storm pressing close. I don’t look at him. I can’t. Because I already know what I’ll see—the war in his eyes, the need, the regret. Or worse, what he’ll see in mine.
But Luca doesn’t let me hide.
His fingers brush my sleeve, then grip it with sudden intensity, yanking it open with rough, practiced hands.
