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Chapter thirty-three

Dominic

“ R osaria’s going to kill you.”

I stiffen at Alessa’s drowsy voice from the kitchen. With a slow exhale, I pop a few cashews into my mouth and crush the ember of my cigarillo into the glass dish.

“I’d like to see her try,” I answer, swatting at the smoke.

Alessa yawns, stretching her arms above her, and the fabric of my shirt she’s wearing follows, slipping up to reveal a hint of her thighs. Her nipples peek through the fabric as she walks deeper into the kitchen.

My mouth goes dry at the sight of her in my clothes, something primal coiling in my gut. Mine. Every inch of her, marked by me in ways no one else sees. The thought of her carrying my baby intensifies my need to claim her.

When she reaches the counter, she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me, her soft moan making my cock jerk. My hands find her waist, fingers pressing hard enough to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

She pulls away and drops onto the stool next to mine, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Hi,” my lips twitch.

“Hi,” she answers, voice raspy with sleep.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Woke up and you weren’t there. Couldn’t sleep?”

“Too much on my mind.” I exhale, tossing a cashew into my mouth. My brain’s a warzone—threats, loose ends, contingency plans. All revolving around keeping her and our kid safe.

“Tell me.”

I hesitate. Instead, I get up and head for the pantry. I yank open the freezer, scanning Rosaria’s handwritten labels.

“Pistachio?”

“Chocolate chip.”

I grab the Gocce di Cioccolato tub, toss it on the counter, and scoop ice cream into a bowl.

“You’re stalling,” she says.

I slide the bowl toward her. “I am.”

I take a seat and turn my stool to face her, leaning my elbow on the counter.

The kitchen light catches in her hair, turning the copper strands to liquid fire. Even exhausted, with dark circles beneath her eyes and her body still healing, she’s the most dangerous thing in the room.

“You can’t keep things from me—I’m literally growing your kid,” she says, taking a spoonful of ice cream. “And in nine months, I’ll be the one pushing this tiny human out and into the world. So, yeah, I think I deserve to know.”

“Oh... You’re playing that card?”

“Is it working?”

“It might be.”

“Then, yes, I’m playing that card.” She takes another bite, licking the spoon.

Her tongue wrapping around that spoon twists something hot in my gut. Cristo , I’ve fucked her six ways from Sunday tonight, and still, I want more.

“Alright.” I nod, reaching for the last of my cashews. “I’m just worried about you.”

“Me? I’m fine, Dominic,” Alessa shrugs. “As for the pregnancy, I won’t pretend I’ve got it all figured out, but I’m here… alive—I’m okay.”

The memory of her bleeding, slipping away in my arms makes my skin go cold. I can still feel the weight of her body against mine, the way her blood soaked through my clothes.

“I know you are, and trust me, I’m damn grateful you’re still breathing. But I’m worried about you and Marco.”

“Don’t be.” Though confident, her smile disappears.

“Alessa. You and I both know family’s a very complex topic.”

“Don’t I know it?”

“I know things with your father are complicated. You haven’t spoken to him in almost a year, and no matter how much you hate him, seeing him like this isn’t going to be easy.”

“I know that,” she says sternly. “Why do you think I’ve stalled for so long? I thought long and hard before I told you where he could be.”

“Have you?” I challenge. “Alessandra, what do you expect? He’s rotting in a basement beaten to a pulp.”

Alessa just takes another bite of ice cream, unfazed.

“Well, for one, I expect him to tell us more about this RICO case and how he plans to back it so we know how to stop it.”

“I doubt that he’ll say anything, but let’s say he does—what then?”

There’s a pause. Alessa looks me in the eye, hesitating for a split second. Then she smirks.

“I plan on asking him about my mother. And if he says something I don’t like...”

She pauses, then leans back and licks the spoon.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

Heat rushes through me—half arousal, half something darker. The savage part of me recognizes her willingness to protect what’s ours.

“That’s probably the hottest shit you’ve said to me,” I grin, taking in the view.

“You’re sick,” she giggles, rolling her eyes.

“Guilt can break you, you know...eat you alive.”

She stirs her ice cream absently, brows knitting together.

“You think I don’t know that?” Her voice quiets. “I’ve lived with guilt my entire life—guilt for my mother’s death, guilt for staying, guilt for leaving. Guilt for being weak enough to let him control me for so long.”

Her fingers tighten around the spoon.

“But you know what eats you alive even worse than guilt, Dominic? Regret. And it got me thinking... if my mother were still alive, how different everything would have been. And if he really had something to do with her death…” She exhales sharply. “Then what hasn’t he already taken from me?”

I stay silent, watching her press her hand to her stomach.

“I just know one thing. I need to hear it from him myself.”

My throat tightens, something fierce spreads across my chest. This woman sees exactly what I see. The future we could build together.

“Okay.” I nod. “But I gotta warn you, baby. Not everyone’s got the stomach for what’s going down in that basement.”

As it turns out, Alessa has the stomach for it.

She woke up bright and early, her side of the bed already cold when I reached for her. I found her in the kitchen wearing a striped top clinging to her curves, tucked into white shorts riding high on her waist. She knew damn well what they do to me.

Now here we are, just after breakfast, witnessing TJ working over her father. Alessa stands beside me, back straight, breathing calm.

“What’s in the case files, Marco? What do they have on us?” TJ demands.

Marco looks unrecognizable. Shirt torn. Face swollen. Bruised to hell. Left eye swollen shut. Blood trickling from his split lip. He’s slumped in the chair, his hands tied behind him so tight the rope bites into his wrists.

“Enough to ruin every single one of you.” He spits blood on the floor, defiance flashing in his face.

“We can do this all day, Marco—”

“TJ,” I call.

My head of security turns, nods once and steps back.I take a slow step forward, watching Marco wince. The stench of blood, sweat, and fear fills my nostrils. My eyes sweep the room, taking in the security men stationed around us, their hands near their holstered guns.

“You don’t look so good, buddy,” I taunt, squatting to level with him.

“Fuck you!” He spits.

I chuckle coldly. “I brought you a surprise, so I’d appreciate it if you don’t snap at me.”

I hear Alessa’s shoes against the floor. I rise as she walks toward me.

“Are you sure about this?” I murmur.

“Yes.”

“The gun?”

“Locked and loaded.”

“Say the word and we’re out, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And, Alessa?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” I force out. “So don’t make me tear this city apart for you.”

I hear her breath catch. I walk away, settling back.

“You have some balls… don’t you, kid?”

“Hello, Marco.” Her voice is ice.

“‘Marco’?” he echoes with a disdainful chuckle. “I’m your father. Have a little respect.”

“You haven’t spoken to me in months, Marco.”

“If you had followed through with your training, Alessa, you wouldn’t be in this shit.”

“And if you wouldn’t have backed that RICO case, you wouldn’t be tied in that chair.”

“You sound just like your mother, and surrounded by all these men, you’re a goddamn carbon copy of Isabella Russo.”

“What happened to wanting to leave the mob, kiddo? You wasted your life running away from them and now look at you. Fucking Hypocrit.”

He’s taunting her.

“You and I are the same Allesandra…. an outsider. Useful. Expendable. But what happens when they don’t need you anymore, huh?”

“We are Not the same, Marco. You had power more than you thought. But you wasted it. Stupidly. Why?”

“Because of you, you little shit!” Marco explodes. “And your goddamn mother!”

I catch Alessa’s shoulders trembling.

“You killed her, didn’t you?” she says, voice quivering. “I remember now. You were fighting. You were screaming at her in the car.” Marco’s face twists.

“You don’t remember shit,” he spits. “You were a fucking kid.”

“I remember enough.” Alessa steps closer. “You picked me up from school after that lunch you had with the bosses. All three of us in the car.”

“Your mother never understood sacrifice,” he says, voice lower. “Never understood that sometimes, to protect your family, you have to make hard choices. She was more faithful to the Cosa Nostra than she was to our marriage.”

“What hard choices, Marco? Was killing her a... choice?”

“IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THAT!” The outburst echoes off the concrete. “The department found out I was managing the books for the families. They were gonna hit me with money laundering, and homicide... would’ve cost me everything—Life in prison.”

“Your mother...” Marco’s voice breaks. “She overheard me talking to the detective at Internal Affairs in the hallway—Confronted me in the car on the way home... I didn’t want it to go down like that.”

“My mother knew?” Alessa whispers to me.

“I told her we could go into witness protection. That we could get you away from the families…start over.” He laughs bitterly. “But your mother—loyal to the fucking bone—she wasn’t having it. La Falciante till the end. She wasn’t about to give up her precious Cosa Nostra for anybody. Not even for you.”

“So...you crashed the car—killed her because she wouldn’t run away with you?”

“I lost it,” Marco says. “I told her if we couldn’t be together one way, we’d be together another. I didn’t mean to—” He stops. “It wasn’t supposed to go like that.”

His gaze catches on something. His eyes widen as he stares at Alessa’s waistband.

“Where did you get that?” His voice changes completely.

Alessa’s hand moves toward the gun at her hip.

“Where did you get that?”

“Dominic gave it to me.”

“The Whitney Wolverine with the fleur-de-lis crest,” Marco breathes, paling. “Your mother’s gun. You have no idea what you’re holding, do you?” he barks at Alessa, then turns to me. “And you—you stupid figlio di puttana —you just handed her the one thing that can burn us all down.”

“What are you talking about?” Alessa demands.

“That gun... I killed that dirty detective with it. My prints are soaked into every inch—even sixteen years later, they’d still lift them clear as day.”

“That’s why you tore apart the house after Mom died,” Alessa says slowly.

“I thought Internal Affairs had it this whole time,” Marco says. “They’ve been blackmailing me all along. Told me to start this RICO case or they’d bring evidence that I was involved in that shooting.”

Marco moves like a viper. One second, he’s seated—the next, he’s on his feet, seizing Alessa’s arm, yanking her into him. His arm coils around her throat. The sharp sound of metal clicking fills the room as guns are drawn.

I see the blood smeared around Marco’s wrist, the raw flesh peeling away. Alessa’s eyes lock onto mine, wide with fear, her cheeks streaked with tears. Everything goes cold. My vision sharpens, narrows.

“I should have killed you along with her,” he says, with no remorse.

“That mistake is going to cost you your life,” I say, taking a step forward, my gun pointing at him. “Let her go.”

“Take another step, and I’ll break her neck,” Marco warns, and Alessa pleads with her eyes. “Tell your men to put their guns down, too, Dominic.” Marco tugs Alessa’s neck, and she groans in pain.

“Do it, Dominic,” Alessa says. I signal TJ, and he tells the men to lower their guns.

“And because of that, I’m gonna let you in on a little secret.” He chuckles, low and bitter. “The RICO case? It’s basically wrapped. All that’s left is me sending a few files and taking the stand. If I don’t, they’ll keep freezing accounts. But if I do?” He leans in. “The Cosa Nostra crumbles. And it’ll be all thanks to me.”

“Dominic,” Alessa calls. Do it, she mouths.

“Alessa.” This time, it’s me who calls to her. And with one look, she understands. “You’re okay.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, tears cascading down her face as she slowly reaches for the gun beneath her shorts. Alessa lunges, sinking her teeth into the torn flesh of her father’s wrist. Marco howls, but she doesn’t stop—she bites down harder until blood floods her mouth.

A sickening squelch and warm blood splatter across her face and shirt. Marco’s scream rips through the air as he jerks back, shoving her away. Alessa spits his blood onto the ground, wiping her mouth, gun in hand.

I shoot. Not to kill—that’s not my job. But I make sure he won’t get up anytime soon.

BANG.

Marco screams. His leg explodes with blood. He crashes to the ground, clawing at the wound. I reach Alessa as TJ and the boys snap their pieces back up. Blood seeps through her shirt.

“You don’t have to do this,” I murmur. “I can do it for you.”

She shakes her head. “No.” Then she steps toward Marco, who sneers through his pain.

“I tried with you, Dad. I really did,” she mimics his words. Her voice is cold, but there’s something raw beneath it.

The gun in her hand doesn’t waver.

“But the thing is,” she breathes, “every time I look at you, I remember. I remember how you took everything from me. You killed my mother. The only good thing in my life. And then you left me. You fed me to the wolves.”

“Alessa,” he chokes out. “Please, sweetheart.” She raises the gun, leveling it at his head.

“Kiss her for me,” she whispers.

Then she pulls the trigger.

The shot rings out. Marco’s body jerks once, then goes still, a perfect hole between his eyes. Alessa doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t cry. I step forward and take the gun from her hand.

“Alessa,” I say softly. She turns to me, her eyes clearer than I’ve seen them since we met.

“Take me upstairs,” she says, voice steady. “I want to go home.”

I wrap my arm around her, guiding her away from the mess on the floor.

The woman who fought me when she first got here just put a bullet in her old man’s skull to protect what’s ours. She chose this life. Chose me. The queen to my king.

And God help any poor bastard who tries to take her from me now.