Page 81 of Vow to Corrupt You
I take a step closer, my wrath and hatred, my disappointment intensifying.
“How does it feel to be on the other side of those chains?” My voice sounds different. Bitter. Harsher. But also more powerful.
“I’m so sorry, sister. I never meant for it to come to this. I never meant to hurt you. Please, forgive me,” she sobs, but her words feel hollow, a mere attempt to save her ass.
I stare at her and realize I do not feel anything anymore. She robbed me of my emotions. The kindness in me. As if the old version of me died along with everything I believed. Now, I am no longer the Serena I used to be. She’s gone.
Suddenly, the words Chiara once said echo in my mind.
‘It’s the start of a new era. The era of Serena Romano, the most formidable Mafia Queen Italy has ever known.’
This is it. The time to stop being a pawn and start being the one who moves the pieces.
Now, I am her. Serena Romano, the most formidable Mafia Queen Italy has ever heard of.
I look my husband in the eye, my heart turning to steel. “Kill them.”
I swear I can see Nikos’s brow raise slightly while Valeria cries out, begging me to spare her life until Nikos’s—our—soldier puts the tape back over her mouth so her cries are muffled.
“Wicked one, your sister, too?” Nikos steps closer. “Your family might never forgive you.”
“She betrayed us,” I say coldly. “She manipulated Salvatore, risking his life. Because of her, I’m married to you.”
“Is it really such a bad thing?” A flicker of amusement dances in his eyes.
“No.” Even in a situation like this, I can’t help but smile slightly. “Actually, it might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
A slow smirk dances on my husband’s lips, and his voice drops to a near whisper. “You were born to be a queen, wicked one.”
He plants a kiss on my hand, at the same time, cocking his gun and pointing it at his uncle. He focuses his gaze on him, removing the tape from his mouth.
“Any last word, Dimitris?”
His uncle shakes his head, eyelids slipping closed on their own, as if refusing to watch his own downfall. “Syghóresé me, Níko. Syghóresé me, Elefthería.”
“I do not forgive, neither would my mother,” Nikos hisses through clenching teeth before, still holding my hand, he carries out his uncle’s execution. Then Valeria’s.
The rain starts pouring outside, its sound growing louder against the warehouse roof. We step into it, and I look at the heavens above. The rain—it’s as if the heavens were waiting to open wide. I let the droplets wash over me, soaking my hair, clothes, and skin. It feels cleansing, though strange, because I don’t feel the guilt anymore.
Instead, I only feel power.
Chapter 45
Nikos
Greece feels like a different world. It’s not just about the sunsets painting the sky in hues of pink or the endless sea. Italy is equally beautiful. It’s about the feelings the country offers. Freedom. Serenity. Here, I am not the God of the Dead. I am simply Nikolaos, a man like any other, at least in some parts of the country. It’s also my mother’s country. Her heritage. She always said Greece was the only place she ever truly felt free. Now, I feel exactly the same. That’s why I brought Serena here for a couple of weeks. So she can feel free again. Heal. She deserves it. Hell, we both do. Call it the honeymoon we’ve never had.
It wasn’t planned. None of it. Not the marriage, not the chaos that followed, and most certainly, not the feelings that have taken root deep inside me. But when I look at her now, I know all of it was the right choice.
“You’re quiet,” she says softly, turning to me. She stands at the yacht’s bow, hair swept back by the salty breeze.
I step closer, closing the gap between us. “Just admiring the view.”
Her cheeks flush, and a genuine sense of fulfillment warms my face, knowing I can still do that to her.
“This is where your mother grew up, isn’t it?” Her question feels like an attempt to switch the topic, anything to avoid talking about how beautiful she is. Despite the changes she’s undergone over the past few weeks, her transformation into my personal Queen of the Underworld, she still carries that light within her.
I nod, looking at Ithaca Island, which seems so small from afar. “Yes. This is my mother’s country, the island where she was born and raised, where she would take me for vacation. This is where I have the most beautiful memories from.”
