Page 18

EIGHT

L eone

I watch my mother from the corner of my eye.

She hasn’t moved in minutes. Her hands are still wrapped around the edge of the chair.

Her eyes aren’t here anymore. She’s somewhere else.

Some other time. And I think I already know where, back to before she met my father.

Before the life she lived with my father was forced on her.

“I… What happened?” I ask, retaking my seat while my father studies my mother worriedly after her outburst.

“She was seventeen.” My father sighs heavily.

“She was away at school in Paris and set to marry on her eighteenth birthday. I found out through an acquaintance that she was spotted at a school there, so I went to Paris in search of her. When I did find her, I took her and kept her hidden.” My mother snaps out of it the moment my father speaks again.

“For how long?” Milo asks, leaning forward. For once, my father doesn’t sneer at him, instead he glances nervously at my mother before reluctantly answering.

“A year,” he answers, and I flinch.

“You hid my mother for a year?”

“Yes. I moved her between safe houses. Only my most loyal men knew. I told my family nothing. If the Moretti’s had found out too soon, they would’ve burned me out of Calabria, and we would’ve lost everything.”

“So, how did you get away with it?”

“I got her pregnant,” he says flatly. No wonder the woman couldn’t stand to look at me growing up.

“Once you existed, once she started to show, I had leverage. The Moretti’s couldn’t cover up a bastard born from their blood.

And they definitely couldn’t afford to insult the Romanovs by admitting they’d lost their bride. ”

He smirks. “So they cut a deal. Let me marry her officially. In exchange, the Moretti name became part of Pressutt’s through an alliance. Their assets. Their routes. Their reach. Everything they promised to Anatoly Romanov…”

“Became yours,” I finish for him.

“And the Romanovs never forgave it,” Milo mutters. “Neither did Mikhail.” He groans now, realizing just how bad this is. It means he isn’t just after taking everything; he is hoping to destroy our family and the only way to hurt me is to hurt Fallon. Fuck!

“Mikhail was raised in his father’s ashes, forced to rebuild an empire I burned to the ground.

Anatoly lost everything because of me. I ensured it once I rose to power by forcing my way into every corner of his reach and picking it off.

I stole the girl and destroyed the deal and made sure he knew who he fucked with. ”

My mother finally speaks, voice quiet. “You didn’t steal me. You destroyed me.”

Everyone turns to look at her.

“You could’ve let me go,” she says. “You didn’t want peace. You wanted to win.”

My father scoffs. “Don’t pretend I’m some monster. I gave you everything. Everything you could ever dream of.”

She laughs, and there’s no warmth in it. “Except being free of you.”

“You haven’t asked for freedom since Leone was born.”

“And if I had?” she asks coldly.

“You wouldn’t have been leaving with my son.”

The air shifts and grows tense at my father’s words. My father stares at her as if he doesn’t recognize her.

“You act like I haven’t taken care of you, like I haven’t loved you and that you don’t love me back.”

“You took everything,” she says. “What else did I have left to love besides the man who made sure I couldn’t go anywhere else?”

The pain on her face guts me.

And for the first time, I wonder if I’m any different from my father.

I say I love Fallon. I tell myself I’m nothing like this man. The moment I lost her, I did everything in my power to drag her back to me, then imprisoned her. No questions. No choices. I am just as bad, forcing a baby on her and then threatening to take it away.

I clench my jaw.

I won’t do to her what he did to my mother. Once Fallon’s safe, if she wants to leave, she can. I won’t hold her hostage. I won’t trap her. I’ll fight for her, yes. I’ll never be the man who makes her love him because he’s the only thing left.

All I’ll ask is that she doesn’t keep my child from me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask him.

“Because your mother hated you,” he says without hesitation. “You reminded her of what I did. Every time you cried, she saw the way I forced myself on her. And I didn’t want to explain to my son that he was born from violence, not love.”

Milo looks away.

“This is why you hated Lydia; you knew where she came from?” he asks.

My father shakes his head. “At first I thought she was a gold digger. Did you know Lydia was supposed to marry someone else?”

My stomach twists. “Who?”

“Anton Volkov.”

Milo jerks upright. “Volkov?”

“Yes,” Vittorio says. “Her marriage to Volkov had been arranged by Anatoly years ago. A union that would have sealed a fresh alliance between the Russian factions and the old Volkov cartel. Lydia was the bargaining chip.”

I shake my head. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would she come here? Why marry me?”

“Because she ran and needed protection,” my father says, voice flat. “The wedding was imminent. She fled before the ceremony and disappeared. Next thing I know, she’s working at one of our clubs. Right under your nose. Charming her way into your world like she was born to it.”

I stare at him. “You think she used me to escape Volkov?”

“I know she did.” My father sighs, eyes distant. “If I’d been in her shoes, I might’ve run, too.”

“That man’s a fucking butcher,” I growl. “He collects wives like trophies. Sienna would be—what—his fifth?”

“Sixth,” Milo corrects. My father looks over at me.

“Sienna’s marrying Volkov?” my father asks.

Milo nods. “Dominic made the deal. Said it’s binding.”

“And she’s half a world away,” Milo mutters. “Which means she’s got no one to stop it.” I peer over at Rocco who is glaring at the floor.

I know he regrets not asking. I saw the look on Rocco’s face when he found out. He’s not going to let that go.

My father snorts, walking back toward the bar.

“Your women sure know how to pick their poison, don’t they?”

I glare at him. “They don’t pick. That’s the problem.”

He raises his glass in mock salute. “Some things can’t be helped.” I shake my head, wondering how he can believe that after seeing my mother suffer just now.

“That’s why the next generation rewrites the rules,” I add.

“Assuming you get Fallon back,” my father says.

He moves to the doorway, then pauses.

“You want my help? I still have ties. Old allies of the Romanovs who turned their backs when Anatoly fell. I can stir the ashes. Maybe find someone who wants to see Mikhail fall.”

“Do it,” I say. “And find me everything you can about Penso. We need to make sure once I kill Mikhail, there won’t be any other illegitimate kids of Anatoly’s coming for blood.”

He nods once. “I’ll find out what I can.”

Then he’s gone.

Once the door closes, Rocco clears his throat, making me jump while I make my way over to my mother. She stares off vacantly and I crouch beside her gripping her knees. She startles, looking at me.

Mama?” I ask softly. “Are you okay?” She blinks, her eyes focusing on me, her eyes, so like mine yet so distant for so many years. There’s a universe of pain in them, a history I’m only just beginning to comprehend.

A small, sad smile touches her lips. “I have to be. I will be.” She reaches out, her hand trembling as she cups my cheek. “Don’t be like him, figlio mio. Please.” Her plea hits me harder as she gestures the sign of the cross on her chest.

“I won’t, I try not to be,” I whisper, my voice thick.

Her gaze drifts to the doorway where my father disappeared. “He always said he loved me,” she murmurs then sighs heavily.

“He does, in his way,” I say, though the words taste like ash. “It’s just… not the right way.”

“Is there a right way to love someone?”

“I think so,” I say, my own words a revelation. “It’s about wanting what’s best for them, even if it’s not what’s best for you. It’s about… letting them choose.” The words hang in the air, a promise to myself as much as an answer to her. She searches my face, then nods slowly.

“Then be better than him, Leone. Be better than all of this.” Her hand drops from my cheek, and she seems to shrink back into herself, the brief spark of fight dimming.

“You know I have to kill him, right?”

My voice is quiet, steady. The moment the words land, I see her brace like I’ve hit her.

“Dante…” she says, her lips barely moving.

I nod. “You know how this works. You grew up in this life; you’ve been with Dad long enough to understand the cost of mercy. If I let this go… I’ll look weak. And if I look weak, everything falls apart. This life only holds if the man at the top holds everyone accountable. Even when it’s blood.”

She doesn’t try to stop me. Doesn’t plead.

Just closes her eyes for a moment, like she’s bracing against a wave she can’t outrun.

“Please,” she whispers, “just… don’t let him suffer.”

I swallow hard. “I want him to suffer.”

Her eyes snap open.

“I want him to know what it’s like to be ripped apart from the inside out. I want him to choke on it.”

“Leone—”

“I can’t promise you a clean death, Mama. I also won’t lie to you.”

She stares at me for a long moment. Then her expression softens, not with forgiveness, it’s something sadder. Acceptance.

“You’re angry, I understand but…” she says.

I nod. “You think I enjoy this? You think this is easy for me?”

“No,” she says quietly. “And I know you’re not your father. Sometimes I wonder if I made you into him… just by how I treated you.” Her voice shakes.

“We don’t need to do this Ma,” I tell her.

“No, we do… I hated you for years. Not because you did anything wrong. Just because you existed. Because every time I looked at you, I saw what he did to me. I couldn’t separate you from him.”

She takes a breath, voice almost breaking.

“I tried to love you. I was so young, angry, and alone. I didn’t know how to love you without hurting you. And I was hurting too much to try harder.”

I look away. My throat tightens, and I force myself to speak.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” she snaps. “You don’t know what it’s like to carry a child you never asked for and be told to raise him in the arms of the man who broke you. I saw his face. And I let that blind me.”

She sighs shaking her head.

“I forgot that you were mine, too. That you had my blood. Were also part of me. And by the time I remembered that… you were already gone.”

Her voice breaks completely now, and I swallow back the emotion threatening to choke me.

“You were building walls I couldn’t climb. You stopped needing me. And I told myself that was fine… that it was better that way. But it wasn’t.”

I let out a breath I’ve been holding since I was a boy.

“It wasn’t,” I agree. “You weren’t there. You didn’t even try.”

“I was scared,” she says. “And I was selfish. I failed you.”

“No, your drinking failed me. Listening to you rant while drunk…”

“You didn’t make me an alcoholic, Leone. That choice was on me. I didn’t start drinking because of you if that is what you think. I started drinking because I realized how badly I failed you. Not because of you. And I know I don’t deserve a second chance.”

“You already have one.”

She blinks.

“Fallon is carrying your grandchild. And I’m not going to make the same mistakes. I won’t raise that child in bitterness. I won’t let them grow up wondering why their mother cries when she looks at them.”

Tears well in her eyes.

“I’m not asking you to fix what you did,” I say. “I just want you to be better. For your grandchild.”

She reaches out and grips my hand. Her touch is warm. Solid.

“I will,” she says. “I promise you, I will.”

And for the first time in my life, I feel she means it. With a nod I rise when she stops me, grabbing my hand. “You owe me nothing, but…”

“I will tell Dante you love him,” I say knowing what she was going to ask. She nods, her gaze going to the fireplace as tears brim. Leaning down I kiss the top of her head.

“I love you, mama, and I’m sorry for your loss,” I whisper and she grips my arm, giving it a squeeze. I turn back to Milo who averts his gaze like he was caught watching something he shouldn’t. Rocco is focused on a bookshelf and looks over at me as I approach.

“Well, that was quite the story,” Rocco says. I nod slowly, waiting for him to explode over Sienna and Volkov.

“You’re going to start a war with the Cartel and Mikhail,” Rocco says.

“I don’t see any way around it.”

“You’re expecting us to go to war for your wife.” I level my gaze on him. He lifts a hand, stopping me. “I’m not backing out. This is me asking,” Rocco says.

Milo watches him closely.

“I never ask for anything, Leone. I never have.”

“And you don’t need to. Once we have Fallon back, you can have whatever you need to take down Volkov and bring Sienna home,” I say.

Rocco nods slowly. “You will be sitting this one out,” I tell him, and he opens his mouth to say something and I hold his gaze.

“It wasn’t a choice. You can barely walk.

You need to go see Dr. Stevens. I can smell the infection radiating out of you.

You will go even if I have to knock you out and strap you to the gurney myself!

” Rocco doesn’t look pleased and on the verge of arguing when Milo steps up beside me.

“You want Sienna back? Leone has granted that. What good are you to her if you’re dead because you were too stubborn to get treated?” Milo adds and Rocco clenches his teeth and nods slowly.

My phone rings in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see it’s Maria.

I step aside and answer it, wondering if something more has happened at home.

“Maria?”

“Sorry to bother you, I… I…”

“It’s fine, what is wrong?” I ask her and I can hear someone in the background wanting to speak to me, demanding the phone. She snaps at whoever it is when I realize it’s Nathan. Fallon’s father.

“Nathan is here, he says he spoke to Rebecca; he has word on Fallon.” My heart beats faster and I glance at Milo who’s watching me carefully along with Rocco. I nod toward the door telling them we need to leave.

“I’m on my way back. Tell Nathan to stay there; I’ll be home in half an hour,” I say hanging up. Rocco groans as he rises and I grab his arm, helping him up while Milo retrieves his car keys and we leave for home. While I wonder what shit storm has blown our way now.