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Fina’s beside me, her cheek swollen, cuts shallow but bloody, each mark a wound on my soul. “I’m sorry,” I choke, my voice breaking, love and guilt flooding out. “I should’ve believed you.”
Her hand finds my arm, strong despite her pain, her eyes fierce. “Find him,” she says, voice hard, urging me on. I nod, pressingmy lips to her forehead, a vow to end this. My men regroup, the Vitales crumbling, their allies dead or gone, the warehouse falling silent but for the echo of gunfire.
Matteo calls, pointing to a blood trail—Adriano’s. I signal my men, and we corner him in a back room, wounded, slumped against a wall. His smile gone, eyes wild.
“You can’t stop me,” he snarls, but I grab him, slamming him against the wall, my gun at his throat.
“You killed my mother, took my wife,” I growl, my hurt for Fina, for Lucia, fueling me. “You’re done.”
He laughs weakly, but I can see that the fight’s gone out of him. I bind his hands, my men dragging him out.
Fina’s safe, but this isn’t over. I’ll make him pay, for her, for us, for the love I almost lost.
26
Serafina
The warehouse air chokes me, thick with smoke and blood, but Enzo’s arms are my anchor, his warmth pulling me from the edge of terror. My body trembles, cuts stinging, bruises throbbing, but relief floods me. It's raw and overwhelming, spilling over at the sight of him.
His face, hard and fierce, softens as he holds me, his gun still clutched, Adriano’s blood trail fresh on the floor. I collapse into him, my face buried in his chest, and for the first time in his presence, I cry. Tears spill, hot and unstoppable, soaking his shirt, my sobs muffled against him. I’m safe, but the fear for my life, for our child, lingers like a shadow. Enzo’s grip tightens, his breath ragged, and I feel his heart pounding, a mirror to my own.
Matteo’s voice cuts through, sharp, directing men to take Adriano away, his face grim but relieved. Riccardo stands nearby, his eyes red, worry etched deep, no trace of the distance I’ve always felt between us. I meet his gaze, then Matteo’s, my throat too tight to speak, gratitude swelling in my chest.
They risked everything for me, but it’s Enzo’s arms that ground me, his scent of leather and gunpowder a lifeline. I’m too shaken to form words, my body still reeling from Adriano’s knife, his threats, the cold promise of death.
Enzo lifts me, gentle but firm, carrying me through the warehouse’s chaos, past splintered crates and fallen Vitales. The night air hits, sharp with salt from the docks, and he sets me in a car, his jaw tight, eyes never leaving me.
The drive to the manor is silent, his hand on mine, his thumb tracing slow circles, a comfort I didn’t expect. I see it now, the way he’s shaken, his knuckles white on the wheel, his face pale despite his control. He thought he’d lost me, and the weight of it sits heavy between us, unspoken but real.
At the manor, he leads me to our room, the familiar walls a balm after the lair’s filth. He sits me on the bed, his hands careful as he cleans my cuts, antiseptic stinging, his touch soft.
I touch a hand to his. “You’re safe now,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, needing to ease the storm in his eyes.
He pauses, his fingers still, then shakes his head, his voice low, rough. “Safe? You were careless, Fina. Running off to Domenico’s, not telling me, getting yourself abducted.”
His words bite, anger lacing them, and my relief frays, replaced by a familiar spark of rage. “Careless?” I snap, my voice rising, tears burning again. “I was trying to save you, Enzo, to prove Adriano’s betrayal. Don’t you dare blame me!”
My hands shake, my body aching, but I’m on the verge of losing it, fury surging at his accusation. I stand, ignoring the pain, my voice sharp. “I heard him confess, risked everything to tell you, and you pushed me away, called me a liar. And now you lecture me?” My chest heaves, the hurt of his distrust, the terror of Adriano’s knife, spilling out, raw and jagged.
Enzo’s face shifts, his eyes darkening, not with anger but something deeper, vulnerable. He steps close, his hands framing my face, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I love you, Fina.”
The words hit like a shockwave, stealing my breath, my rage dissolving into disbelief. Love? Enzo, my enemy, my husband, the man who claimed me in a deal, loves me? I search his gaze. His eyes hold mine, raw and open, no walls left, and I see it—the fear of losing me, the truth of his heart.
My throat tightens, tears welling again, but these are different, born of hope, of something I’ve felt but never dared name.
I’m frozen, my heart racing, his confession a weight I don't think I’m ready to carry. “You… love me?” I whisper, my voice breaking, searching his face for a lie, but there’s none.
He nods, his thumb brushing my cheek, wiping away a tear. “I should’ve said it sooner, should’ve believed you. I can’t lose you… both of you, not ever.” His voice cracks, and I feel it, the depth of his fear, his love, mirroring my own. His hand trails to my stomach to press softly against it.
I lean into him, my anger gone, my body trembling, not from pain but from the truth we’ve both been running from. I don’t say it back, not yet. I want to bask in my husband's love just for a while.
27
Enzo
Enzo
The manor’s quiet, a heavy silence that presses against my chest, broken only by Fina’s soft breathing beside me. She’s asleep, her face bruised but serene in the dim glow of our bedroom, her bandaged cuts a stark reminder of Adriano’s cruelty. Each mark on her skin is a wound in my soul, a scar of how close I came to losing her.