Page 27

Chapter Twenty-Six

Rafaele

T he car races through the city, Paolo at the wheel. My hands won’t stop shaking as I cradle Nora’s limp body in my arms. Her fever is high, her skin clammy and pale, and her breathing is shallow—every labored exhale a dagger to my chest.

“Faster,” I bark, my voice breaking. Paolo’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel as he pushes the car to its limits, weaving through traffic like a man possessed.

“I’m going as fast as I can, Rafa,” he mutters, but his voice wavers, betraying his own fear.

I look down at Nora, brushing the damp hair away from her face. She looks so small, so delicate. My Nora, who is anything but fragile, reduced to this. “Hold on, amore,” I whisper, pressing my lips to her burning forehead. “We’re almost there. Don’t leave me. Please.”

The hospital comes into view, its sterile lights like a beacon in the darkness. Paolo slams the car to a stop in front of the emergency entrance. Before it is even fully parked, I’m out, carrying her in my arms.

“Help!” I shout as I burst through the doors, my voice echoing in the quiet of the night-shift lobby. “I need a doctor! My wife—she’s pregnant, and something’s wrong!”

A nurse rushes over, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene. “Get a stretcher, now!” she calls behind her. Within moments, a team surrounds us, guiding me to lay her down on a gurney.

“Nora,” I whisper, brushing her cheek as they wheel her away. “I’m right here, amore. I’m not leaving you.”

One of the doctors stops me as they head toward the maternity ward. “Sir, we need to take her now. Are you her husband?”

“Yes,” I snap, the word heavy with desperation. “What’s wrong with her?”

The OB-GYN arrives, a middle-aged man with sharp eyes that take in everything at once. He doesn’t sugarcoat it. “Your wife is showing signs of severe preeclampsia. It’s dangerous for both her and the baby. We need to stabilize her immediately.”

My chest tightens, and my voice comes out in a growl. “If you have to make a choice, you save her. Do you understand? She has to live. No matter what.”

The doctor hesitates, his professional mask slipping for a moment as he glances at the unconscious woman on the gurney. “We’ll do everything we can for both of them.”

“No,” I bark, stepping closer. “You save her . Promise me.”

His eyes meet mine, and he nods. “I understand.”

They disappear behind the double doors, leaving me in an empty hallway with nothing but the pounding of my heart and the sound of my ragged breaths. Paolo comes to stand beside me, silent at first. Then he speaks, low and careful. “I heard her, Rafa. She asked you to choose the baby.”

“I know.” My voice is hoarse, barely audible.

Paolo looks at me, his face solemn. “You’ve always been so adamant about letting her make her own choices.”

I shake my head, unable to meet his gaze. My hands tremble as I rake them through my hair. “I can’t lose her, Paolo.”

“If she lives and the baby dies because of a choice you made, she’ll hate you.”

“At least she’ll be alive to do it,” I snap, my voice breaking. “At least she’ll still be here.”

He doesn’t reply, and the silence sits heavy between us as I sink into a chair, my head in my hands.

The shrill ring of my phone cuts through the tension. I answer sharply without thinking. “What?”

“It’s Vargas,” the voice on the other end says. “I’ve got a location for Sofia. She’s holed up in a bar in Queens, but it’s crawling with Russians. It’s not safe to go in alone.”

“Send me the address,” I reply, my tone cold, detached.

Paolo steps in front of the exit, blocking my path. “You need to think this through, Rafa. Leo’s on his way here now. Let’s talk about whatever you’re planning.”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” I snap. “Sofia is mine.”

Before Paolo can argue further, a woman in green scrubs enters the room, her face carefully composed. “Mr. Lucchese?”

“Yes?” I ask, standing stiffly. “How is she?”

“It’s too early to say,” she replies, her tone is measured and cautious. “She’s in surgery. We’re doing everything we can to save them both.”

“But they’ll be fine, right?” My voice cracks despite my effort to keep it steady.

The nurse hesitates, her sympathetic smile only fanning the flames of my frustration. “It’s too early to give assurances, but please know we’re doing our absolute best. I’ll come back with updates as soon as I can, but it may be a few hours.”

I nod curtly, not trusting myself to speak. My fists clench at my sides, and the room tilts slightly as my emotions war for dominance. The urge to threaten her—to lash out at someone, anyone—is almost overwhelming. But it’s useless. My Nora’s fate isn’t in her hands. It isn’t even in mine. If I could barter with God and spill every drop of my blood in exchange for her safety, I would do it without hesitation.

At that moment, Leo bursts into the waiting room, breathless and disheveled. “How are they? What’s happening?”

I don’t answer. My mind is already spiraling into plans and decisions, desperate for an outlet for the rage and fear that are consuming me.

“We don’t know yet,” Paolo says quietly, filling in the gaps. “It’s still… unclear.”

Leo looks to me, searching for something—reassurance, maybe—but all I can offer is cold determination. I meet his gaze and motion to the chair across from me. “Sit down.”

He hesitates, then obeys. The tension between us is thick as I lean forward, elbows on my knees, locking eyes with him.

“You’ll probably be the next capo,” I say flatly, each word deliberate.

His confusion is immediate. “Why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye?”

I glance at Paolo, whose grim expression confirms he knows exactly what I’m about to do. Turning back to Leo, I drag a hand through my hair, forcing the words out. “Because I have to go. I have to handle this myself, and I don’t know if I’ll make it back.”

Leo pales, sitting up straighter, his hands gripping the chair’s armrests like a lifeline. “No, Rafa. You don’t have to do this. Stay here—with Nora. We’ll figure something else out.”

I shake my head, slow and resolute. “I can’t help her here. But I can make sure the ones who did this never hurt her again. Never touch her, or us, ever again.”

“Please,” he whispers, leaning forward, his voice trembling with desperation. “Don’t go. I can’t lose you.”

His plea cuts deeper than I expected. For years, I kept him at a distance, letting resentment and silence build walls between us. But now, I see the brother I’ve always had—the one who still sees me as someone worth saving.

“You’ll be okay,” I tell him softly, my voice steady but firm. “You’re stronger than you think. Paolo will guide you, and you’ll make it through.”

I look at my phone, the location of Sofia burning into my mind. Time is running out. If she realizes Nora isn’t in her safe house anymore, everything will fall apart. I can’t afford to wait.

I turn on my heel, walking away before Leo can argue further. If I hear his pleas again, I might falter, and I can’t afford that. Not now.

Paolo follows me to the car, his steps quick and persistent. “What are you doing?” I demand. “Go back inside.”

He snorts, sliding into the passenger seat. “You think I’m letting you walk into a Russian stronghold without backup? Please. There was no chance of that happening.”

“It’s dangerous. I might not make it back,” I say, gripping the wheel tightly.

“I know. And if you fall, we fall together. That’s the deal, remember?”

“Paolo—”

“Just drive, Rafa. Besides, imagine you die all brave and noble, and I stay here. Do you have any idea the hell I’d catch from Nora when she wakes up? No, thank you.”

I can’t help the faint smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth despite the storm raging inside me. Without another word, I start the car, the engine roaring to life as I floor the gas pedal, heading straight for vengeance.

As the city blurs around me, I pull out my phone and dial Alexei. He answers on the second ring with a clipped tone.

“Lucchese.”

“I’m heading to the rogue Russians,” I say bluntly, my voice colder than the night air. “Sofia is at Red Haven on Kent Avenue.”

There’s a pause, and then his tone sharpens like a blade. “Back off. The traitor Russians are mine. The truce still holds.”

“Not anymore,” I snap, gripping the wheel tighter as I swerve through traffic. “This is personal. They touched my wife. The truce is off.”

“You’ll start a war,” Alexei warns coldly. “With me.”

“Then so be it,” I growl, fury lacing every word. “They should have kept their hands off what’s mine. You, of all people, should understand.”

There’s a heavy silence, and tension crackles through the line like a live wire. Finally, Alexei sighs, the sound low and dangerous. “If you do this, you become my enemy.”

“I never asked you to intervene,” I reply. “This isn’t about diplomacy. This is about blood.”

“You’re being reckless, Rafaele. Foolish. If your actions ripple into my world, I won’t hesitate to crush you.”

“And if you stand in my way,” I say, my voice deadly quiet, “I’ll do the same.”

The call ends abruptly, my words hanging in the air like a promise carved in stone. I toss the phone aside and press harder on the accelerator, the car surging forward. I have no time for threats, no patience for posturing. There’s only one thing driving me now: getting revenge, no matter the cost.

We reach the bar and park in a narrow alley, the dim glow of a single streetlight barely piercing the thick darkness. The air feels heavy and oppressive, as if it knows the blood that will be spilled tonight. A plain wooden door stands at the end of the alley, unremarkable, blending seamlessly with the brick walls. But this is the place.

I knock once. The sound echoes in the stillness, followed by the scrape of a latch sliding open. Suspicious eyes peer through the peephole.

“Who—”

Before the man can finish, Paolo slams his boot into the door. The wood splinters inward, and the guard stumbles back with a curse. We step inside, guns raised, the darkness welcoming us like an old friend.

The air reeks of smoke, alcohol, and sweat. The room is sparsely lit, casting long shadows on armed men whose heads snap toward us in unison. Their hands reach for their weapons, but I don’t give them the chance.

“Don’t hesitate!” I shout, already pulling the trigger.

The first man crumples before he can aim. The second fires a wild shot that chips the wall beside me before Paolo’s bullet finds his chest. The sharp crack of gunfire fills the room, drowning out the groans of the dying.

Footsteps thunder from deeper inside, and two more men appear at the far end of the room, rifles raised.

“Paolo!” I shout.

He turns too late. The shot rings out, and he stumbles back, clutching his shoulder, his gun clattering to the ground.

Paolo dives for cover behind a stack of crates as I return fire. My shot takes one in the throat; he collapses, gurgling. The other ducks back around the corner, retreating like the coward he is.

“I’m fine!” he growls, pressing a hand against the wound. “Go. Get Sofia!”

I hesitate, scanning his face for any sign of weakness. Despite the blood seeping through his fingers, his eyes are fierce, and his tone leaves no room for argument.

I nod, my focus narrowing. Each step up the creaking wooden staircase feels heavier than the last as vengeance settles in my chest. At the top, a single door waits, slightly ajar. Faint voices filter through.

I push the door open, gun raised, and step inside.

The room is sparse—just a desk cluttered with papers and an overflowing ashtray. Yuri stands behind Sofia, one arm choking her throat, a gun pressed against her temple. She looks up at me, her eyes wide, fear etched into every line of her face. A part of me hates her for what she’s done, but another part knows she’s still useful. For now.

“Well, if it isn’t the infamous Rafaele,” Yuri sneers, his accent thick and mocking. “What will you do now? Shoot your little cousin?”

My lips curl into a humorless smile. “Do you think that will stop me?” My finger tightens on the trigger. I aim low, and the gunshot is deafening in the small room. Sofia screams, collapsing to the floor and clutching her knee as blood spreads beneath her.

Yuri curses, his momentary distraction giving me all the opening I need. I close the distance in two strides, grabbing the barrel of his gun and twisting it out of his hands. He lunges, but I slam the butt of my pistol into his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.

I stand over him, my gun trained on his head, my finger hovering over the trigger.

“Enough.” The sharp voice cuts through the room like a knife.

I whirl to find Alexei standing in the doorway, his expression deceptively calm as he points a gun to my head.

“Let me handle this,” he says, stepping forward. “He is mine.”

“Stay out of this,” I snap, not lowering my weapon.

“This isn’t your war, Lucchese,” Alexei replies, stepping further into the room. “Take your traitor and leave me mine. How are you doing, Matvey?”

“Matvey?” I glance at the man on the floor

Alexei nods. “My useless uncle who was supposed to be dead. He always wanted my father’s seat. It seems his ambitions didn’t die with his supposed burial.”

I hesitate, my rage warring with the logic in Alexei’s words. He’s right. This isn’t my war, not entirely. But it’s personal, and my blood screams for retribution.

“Take her,” Alexei says, jerking his head toward a weeping Sofia. “Let me handle my own traitor. But Matvey stays here.”

Reluctantly, I step back, lowering my gun. “Fine. To each their traitor.”

Matvey grins, blood dripping from his mouth. “You never understood how deep the game went, Alexei. She was always the pawn. But your supposedly dead daughter…” he trails off with a smirk.

The word “supposedly” reverberates in the room, and Alexei’s calm facade cracks for a moment. He takes a step forward, his gun trained on Matvey. “Lucchese, leave. This is not a matter for you.”

I glance at Alexei, then at Matvey. This is no longer my fight. I nod curtly and turn my attention to Sofia, who is clutching her bleeding leg, her face pale and etched with pain and terror.

Without a word, I grab her by the hair, yanking her to her feet. She screams, clawing at my hand. “You’re hurting me!”

“Good,” I snap, tightening my hold. “Trust me, this is nothing compared to what’s coming.” I drag her down the corridor, her cries echoing in the dim light.

Behind me, Alexei and Matvey’s voices fade, but Paolo catches my eye as I pass. He’s leaning against the bar, his face pale, blood seeping from his shoulder, but he’s still standing. His gaze flicks to Sofia, but he says nothing.

“Let’s go,” I bark. “This place is about to burn.”

Paolo nods, his jaw tight, but his steps are slower, his injury hampering him. I don’t wait for him as I shove Sofia through the exit. She stumbles onto the cold pavement, nearly collapsing, but I yank her upright.

“Rafaele, I… This got out of hand!” she stammers, her voice trembling.

I snort, opening the trunk of the car. “You touched my wife. My wife . Death is too good for you, but trust me, when I’m done, you’ll beg for it.” Without waiting for her response, I shove her into the trunk and slam it shut.

Paolo follows me out, his movements slower. I extend my hand. “Keys.”

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” he asks cautiously.

“No,” I say flatly, “but I’ll do better than you, crippled.”

He throws me the keys, and I catch them, slipping into the driver’s seat. Paolo lowers into the passenger side with a groan.

“I’ll drop you at the dispensary on Holden Street,” I mutter as I start the car.

“Fine,” he grunts, leaning his head back against the seat. “But you better not kill us before we get there.”

The drive is silent save for Sofia’s muffled cries from the trunk. My hands grip the wheel tightly, my knuckles white, my mind going back to the hospital every minute.

Once Paolo is dropped off, I head straight to the club. When I open the trunk, Sofia is trembling, her face ashen as I drag her out and shove her forward. Her legs give out, and she crumples to the ground.

I grab her by the arm, hauling her upright and forcing her into the club basement and into the cell. She collapses onto the chair, sobbing. “Just kill me,” she pleads, her voice broken. “Please, just kill me.”

I crouch down in front of her, my voice cold, devoid of mercy. “Did you care when you put my pregnant wife in a basement? Did you care when she begged you to let her out? Did you care, Sofia?” I cock my head to the side as sobs grow louder, but she doesn’t answer. “Did you care that you were hurting the most amazing woman to ever exist?”

“Your brother helped me!” she cries suddenly. “He killed your father. He poisoned his drink.”

I laugh, the sound hollow. “You think I didn’t know? Please. I’ve known for a while. Leo came clean, and he also told me what kind of predator you are.” I stand and grab a blade from the table. “Now, it’s my turn.”

I make the first cut on her wrist slow and deep, and her screams echo off the concrete walls. But before I can continue, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I pull it out and see a text from Leo.

Nora’s out of surgery. They’re both alive. Please come. You must be here when she wakes up.

The blade stills in my hand, and for a moment, I just stare at the message. Relief washes over me, but it’s short-lived. I look back at Sofia, her body slumped in the chair, blood pooling beneath her.

“You’ll die here,” I say coldly, throwing the blade onto the table. “Slowly, painfully. Let your last hours be in agony.”

Her eyes widen, and she starts to beg, but I don’t stay to listen. I walk out, slamming the cell door behind me. She deserves no better.

I get into the car, my hands trembling as I grip the wheel. The drive to the hospital feels like a lifetime, but the moment I see the building come into view, my chest tightens with overwhelming emotion.

I sprint through the doors, ignoring the curious glances of nurses and patients, and find Leo waiting for me near the entrance to the maternity ward.

“She’s unconscious but stable,” he says before I can even ask. “You need to see her.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat, and head toward her room, my heart pounding.

When I step into the room, the sight before me stops me cold. She lies in the sterile bed, pale as the sheets around her. Her frame is dwarfed by the wires and tubes hooked up to machines that beep in a steady rhythm, mocking the chaos inside me. Her face is peaceful in its stillness, but the dark circles under her eyes tell the story of her fight—our fight. A fight she should never have had to endure.

I approach her slowly, each step like walking through quicksand, weighed down by fear, regret, and love so deep it feels like it might shatter me. I sink into the chair beside her bed, my fingers trembling as they brush against hers. Her hand is soft but cold, and I cradle it between my own, willing warmth back into her.

“Amore mio,” I whisper, my voice breaking as I speak. “You promised me you’d never leave. And I—” My throat tightens, the words clawing their way out. “I can’t do this without you, Nora. You’re the only reason I’ve ever wanted to be more than a monster. You make me better… You make me human .”

I lean forward, resting my forehead against her hand, the machines’ rhythmic beeps the only sound filling the room. “Before you, there was nothing but emptiness, darkness. I didn’t even know what love was. I didn’t know what it meant to have someone see every broken piece of me and not turn away.”

I lift my head, my voice growing stronger, though my heart aches with every word. “You are my light, Nora. You brought me out of that darkness. And now, seeing you like this… I’d trade everything—my power, my wealth, my life—just to see you smile again. To hear your voice. To feel you call me by my name, not as a monster but as your husband.”

A tear slips down my cheek, unbidden, and I let it fall. I’ve never cried before, not like this, but for her, I don’t care. “I’ll never forgive myself for not being there to protect you, to keep you safe. But I swear to you, Nora, on my soul—on the blackened, worthless heart that only beats for you—I will never let anyone hurt you again. Not Sofia, not anyone.”

I lean closer, my lips brushing against her knuckles. “You have to wake up. You have to fight. For me. For her.” My other hand moves to rest gently on her stomach, now empty, and my throat tightens. “Our baby girl needs you, Nora. I need you. She’s waiting for you, amore, in the nursery. I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you.”

The machines keep on beeping steadily, offering no reply. My head drops, my shoulders shaking with the weight of everything unsaid. “I love you, Nora,” I whisper against her hand. “I love you so much it terrifies me, and I know without a shadow of a doubt I won’t survive losing you. The moment your heart stops, I’ll be following you.”

A faint stir—a flicker of movement. My breath hitches, and I sit upright, my eyes locked on her face. Her eyelids flutter, a weak groan escaping her lips.

“Nora?” My voice trembles, hope surging through me like a flood.

Her lashes lift just slightly, her gaze unfocused but finding me. Her lips part, and the faintest whisper escapes. “Rafaele…”

I’m on my knees beside her bed in an instant, my hand cradling her cheek. “Amore mio, I’m here. I’m right here. You’re safe.”

Her lips curve into the faintest hint of a smile before her eyes slip shut again, her exhaustion pulling her back into unconsciousness.

But she’s alive. She’s fighting. And for the first time in what feels like an eternity, I let out a breath, hope taking root in my chest. I press a soft kiss to her forehead, a silent vow: I’ll fight for her as fiercely as she’s fought for us, for our baby, for our life together.

Because she’s my world, and I’ll burn down the heavens and the earth to keep her safe.