Page 35 of Broken Vows

"Most people would be traumatized by what just happened."

I think about this. "Most people didn't grow up watching their father's enemies disappear in the night. Most people haven't spent years stitching up gunshot wounds without asking questions. Violence doesn't shock me, Vincent. It's just another tool."

He reaches over, takes my hand. His thumb traces over my knuckles, surprisingly gentle. "You're not what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"A victim. Someone who needed protecting." His dark eyes meet mine. "You're not a victim, are you?"

"No," I say quietly. "I'm a Mastroni. We don't break. We break other people."

My phone buzzes. Max, probably wondering where I am. I answer on the second ring.

"Mel? Where the hell are you? Maya said you left the compound with Russo."

"I'm handling family business."

"What family business? You're not supposed to?—"

"Max." I cut him off. "I'm marrying Vincent Russo."

Dead silence on the other end. Then: "How did you convince him?"

"There’s no convincing. It's the practical solution. Our child will be protected, both families benefit from the alliance, and it prevents a war that would destroy us all."

"This doesn’t sound like the agreement we discussed, Mel." His voice turns deadly quiet.

I close my eyes. I'd hoped to break this news more gently. "We didn’t discuss it. You tried to bully me, Max, on your terms. I’m doing this my way."

The explosion of Italian curses that follows is so vicious I have to hold the phone away from my ear. When Max finally runs out of creative ways to vent about this loss of power over me and over this decision, I speak again.

"Are you finished?"

"Finished? Mel, you're carrying a Russo bastard and planning to marry our family's biggest rivalon your own terms. No, I'm not fucking finished."

"Then listen to what I learned tonight. The hit on me came through Salvatore Perezzi, but the client had inside information. Someone with access to both families' operations, someone who knew our security protocols and Vincent's meeting schedule."

The silence stretches long enough that I wonder if the call dropped. When Max speaks again, his voice is deadly calm—the tone that means someone's about to die.

"Say that again."

"Someone inside our operation is feeding information to the Perezzis. They knew about my hospital schedule, Vincent's restaurant meeting, even our security rotations. This wasn't random, Max. It was coordinated."

"You're certain?"

"The prisoner confirmed it before Vincent's men eliminated him. Professional level intelligence, premium payment, rush timeline. Someone wanted me dead, and they had help from the inside."

I hear him breathing heavily, can picture him running calculations behind those obsidian eyes. "Where are you now?"

"Vincent's car. Heading back to the compound."

"No. Come to the office. Both of you. If there's a leak in our security, I want to hear this firsthand."

Vincent raises an eyebrow when I relay the message. "Your brother wants to meet?"

"He wants verification. Max doesn't trust anyone's word when it comes to family security, not even mine."

"Smart man." Vincent signals Tony to change direction. "Though I'm surprised he's willing to sit in the same room with me."