Page 60 of Savage Saint (Empire of Secrets #2)

ANGELO

T he stitches are perfect. Clean, tight, professional. I've sewn up enough wounds to know good work when I see it, and this is some of my best. The antiseptic has dried, leaving Kasia's arm properly bandaged and protected. She'll heal without scarring if she's careful.

She's sitting on the edge of my bed, her injured arm cradled against her chest, watching me clean up the medical supplies.

The painkillers I gave her have taken the edge off, but I can still see tension in the set of her shoulders.

Taking a bullet will do that to you, even when it's a clean through-and-through.

"How does it feel?" I ask, disposing of the bloody gauze.

"Like I got shot." She tests moving her fingers, wincing slightly. "But better than being dead."

"Don't." The word comes out sharper than I intended. "Don't joke about that."

Her blue eyes find mine, soft but steady. "Angelo, I'm okay. We're okay."

The memory of her throwing herself in front of that bullet hits me again like a physical blow. The way she screamed 'No!' and moved without hesitation. The sound of the gunshot. The sight of her blood.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand.

I glance at the screen. Dante. I consider letting it go to voicemail. I've had enough family drama for one night, but something about the late hour makes me answer.

"What."

"Angelo." Dante's voice is carefully controlled, which immediately puts me on alert. My brother doesn't call this late unless something's wrong. "You need to come home. Now."

"I am home."

"To my house. It's about Massimo." A pause. "He's dead."

The words hit me like cold water. I go completely still, my hand tightening around the phone. Dead. Massimo Santoro is dead.

"Angelo?" Dante's voice cuts through the silence. "You there?"

"Yeah." I clear my throat. "Yeah, I'm here. How?"

"Drowned. In the pool. Alessa found him about an hour ago."

The pool. Of course it was the fucking pool. The same pool where I've watched Dante find moments of peace with Alessa, where he's learned to be something other than the cold Don our father made him. Massimo dies in water while his sons find life in it.

"Was it...?" I let the question hang.

"Natural. His mind's been gone for months, Angelo. He probably got confused, wandered out there in the dark." Dante's voice softens slightly. "It was time."

Time. I should feel something more than this hollow relief spreading through my chest. Grief, maybe. Loss. Something appropriate for a son whose father just died.

Instead, all I feel is freedom.

"We need to talk," Dante continues. "All of us. There are arrangements to make, calls to put out. The other families need to know."

"I'll be there." The response is automatic, years of family obligation kicking in.

"Come alone. This is family business."

"No." The word surprises me with its firmness. "Kasia comes with me."

Silence on the other end. Then: "Angelo, this isn't the time—"

"She's part of this family now." I look at Kasia, who's watching me with those piercing blue eyes. "She took a bullet for me tonight, Dante. A bullet meant for my heart. You want to tell me she hasn't proven her loyalty?"

Another pause. Longer this time. "Fine. Bring her. But we need to move fast on this."

The line goes dead. I set the phone down and turn to face Kasia fully. She's already standing, testing her balance despite the painkillers and blood loss.

"Your father's dead," she says. Not a question.

"Yeah."

She studies my face for a long moment. I wonder what she sees there. Relief? Guilt about the relief? The complete absence of grief that should probably worry me?

"How do you feel?" she asks.

"Like the monster who made me is finally gone." The honesty tumbles out before I can stop it. "Is that fucked up?"

"No." She moves closer, her uninjured hand reaching up to touch my cheek. "It's honest."

That's what I love about her. No judgment, no false comfort, no attempt to make me feel something I don't. Just acceptance of who I am, broken pieces and all.

"We need to go to Dante's," I tell her. "Family meeting."

"I'm coming with you."

I hesitate. Maybe she should stay. She's been through enough tonight.

"You're hurt. You lost blood. You should rest—"

"I'm coming with you," she repeats, more firmly this time. "We're partners now, remember? That means I stand with you when your family needs you."

Partners. The word settles something in my chest. Not protector and protected. Not keeper and kept. Partners.

"It won't be pretty. There's a protocol when a Don dies, even one who hasn't been mentally present for years. Politics. Power plays. Other families will be watching how we handle this."

"Then they'll see us handle it together." She moves to my closet, pulling out one of my dark button-downs with her good arm. "Help me with this?"

I assist her into the shirt, careful not to jostle her injured arm. The fabric swamps her small frame, but it covers the bandages and bloodstains. She looks pale but determined.

"You sure about this?" I ask.

"Angelo." She turns to face me fully. "I killed the man who destroyed my childhood tonight. I took a bullet for you. I told you I love you while bleeding on an airfield." Her eyes burn with intensity. "Standing by your side while you deal with your father's death is nothing compared to that."

She's right. We've been through hell and back together. This is just the next step.

"Alright. But if you need to leave, if it gets too much—"

"I won't." She moves to the door, then looks back at me. "Are you ready for this?"

Am I? Massimo is dead. The man whom I have hated all my life, who made me believe I was nothing but violence and rage. Who showed me that love was weakness and family was about fear and control.

"Yeah," I say, and mean it. "I'm ready."

The drive to Dante's house is quiet. Kasia dozes against the passenger window, the painkillers finally kicking in fully. Every few minutes, I glance over to make sure she's still breathing steadily. The sight of her blood earlier tonight aged me about ten years.

Dante's mansion looms against the night sky, every window lit up. I can see Luca's Ferrari in the driveway.

I park and gently shake Kasia awake. "We're here."

She blinks slowly, then sits up straighter. "How do I look?"

"Like you've been through hell." I brush a strand of red hair away from her face. "But you're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

A small smile crosses her lips. "Charmer."

"Only for you, Butterfly."

We walk to the front door together, Kasia's good hand in mine. Dante opens it before we can knock, his expression grim but composed. Behind him, I can see Alessa hovering in the hallway, her face pale.

"Angelo." Dante's eyes move to Kasia, taking in the bandaged arm and oversized shirt. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," Kasia answers before I can. "Thank you for including me in this."

Dante nods once. "Family takes care of family."

We follow him into the living room where Luca is sprawled in one of the leather chairs, a tumbler of whiskey already in his hand despite the early hour. Arrow's face stares at us through a laptop screen on the dining table. They're muted and appear to be busy typing at warp speed.

"Well," Luca says without looking up, "the old bastard finally took his last swim."

"Show some respect," Dante says sharply.

"For what? The man who endlessly cheated on our mother? Who turned Angelo into his personal attack dog? Who made you shoulder the responsibility of an empire when you were barely eighteen?" Luca takes a long sip of whiskey. "Sorry, but I'm fresh out of respect for dear old dad."

The room falls silent. Even Arrow stops typing and looks up.

"He's dead," Dante says finally. "Whatever he was, whatever he did, he's gone now. We handle this with dignity."

"For the other families," I add, understanding the game we're playing. "They need to see strength, not weakness."

"Exactly." Dante moves to the bar, pouring himself a scotch. "The funeral needs to be perfect. Every family in the States will be watching. They'll be looking for cracks, for opportunities."

Alessa appears with a cup of tea, which she presses into Kasia's hands. "How's your arm?"

"Sore, but manageable." Kasia accepts the tea gratefully. "I'm sorry for your loss," she adds, looking around the room.

"Are you?" Luca asks, not unkindly. "Because I'm not."

"Luca," Dante warns.

"What? We're family now, right? That means we can be honest with each other." Luca raises his glass in a mock toast. "Here's to Massimo Santoro. May he rest in peace and leave the rest of us the fuck alone."

Nobody drinks to the toast, but nobody argues with it either.

"The funeral," I say, steering us back to business. "When?"

"A week from now," Arrow answers without looking up from their laptop. "I'm already reaching out to the other families. Full traditional service. St. Bartholomew's Cathedral, then the family mausoleum."

"Security?"

"Massive. Every capo, every soldier, every ally and enemy will be there. It's a powder keg waiting to explode."

I feel Kasia shift beside me, her tactical mind probably already analysing threats and escape routes. Good. I want her thinking like that.

"What about Nicolosi?" I ask.

The room goes quiet again. Dante sets down his glass with deliberate care.

"What about him?"

"He's been testing our boundaries for months. Alessa's kidnapping, the attack on the casino, those bodies at the docks. Now our patriarch is dead. If he's going to make a move, this is when he'll do it."

"During the funeral?" Alessa asks, horrified.

"Maybe. Or right after, when emotions are high and defences might be down." I look at each of my brothers. "He sees opportunity in chaos."

"Then we don't give him chaos," Dante says. "We show unity. Strength. The Santoro family stands together."

"Do we?" Luca asks quietly. "Stand together?"

It's a loaded question. For years, we've operated as a unit out of necessity, not choice. Dante the leader, me the enforcer, Luca the strategist. But things have changed. I've changed.

"We stand together," I say firmly. "But we stand differently than before."

Dante raises an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

I look at Kasia, then back at my brothers. "Meaning I'm not just your attack dog anymore. I have someone to protect, someone who matters more than blind family loyalty."

"Angelo—" Dante starts.

"I'm not walking away," I clarify. "But I'm not sacrificing everything for the family name either. Kasia and I are a unit now. We make decisions together. We face threats together."

"She's not made," Luca points out.

"Neither is Alessa," Kasia says quietly. "But she's family."

"That's different—" Luca begins.

"How?" Kasia's voice is steady but sharp. "Because I wasn't born into this? Because I had to earn my place through blood instead of birthright?"

Luca shifts uncomfortably. "Alessa didn't choose this life—"

"And you think I did?" Kasia's laugh is bitter. "I was five when they took me, Luca. Just like Alessa was a child when she was put in foster care, searching for family she never knew she had."

"That's not—" Luca starts.

"The difference," Kasia continues, "is that everyone knows what the Red Widow is capable of. And now she's choosing to stand with the Santoros." Her blue eyes glitter dangerously. "Tell me that doesn't change the playing field."

Dante straightens slightly at that. "She's right. Every family knows that name. Knows what it means."

"Exactly," I say, my voice hard. "She took a bullet for me tonight. A bullet meant for my heart. But more than that, she's choosing us over everything else she could be. That's not just loyalty. That's power."

"It proves love," Alessa says softly. "And love is the strongest loyalty there is."

Dante looks between Kasia and me, his expression shifting to something like respect. Finally, he nods.

"You're right. Both of you." He raises his glass. "To family. Blood and chosen."

This time, we all drink.

Arrow clears their throat. "The Kozlov brothers have already sent their condolences. So have the Chicago families. Everyone's being very polite."

"Too polite," I mutter.

"Exactly. They're all waiting to see how we handle the transition. Any sign of weakness..."

"There won't be," Dante says firmly. "Massimo may be dead, but the Santoro name still means something."

"What about the legitimate businesses?" Kasia asks. "The casino, the hospital, the development projects?"

Dante looks surprised by the question, then impressed. "They'll continue as normal. That's the beauty of going legitimate. Death doesn't disrupt cash flow the way it used to."

"And the not-so-legitimate businesses?"

"Those too. We've been running everything for years anyway. Nothing changes operationally."

I watch Kasia process this information, filing it away. She's thinking like a partner now, not just someone along for the ride. I like it.

"So what's our immediate priority?" I ask.

"Get through the next seventy-two hours without anyone dying," Dante says dryly. "After that, we can worry about the long term."

"Sounds simple enough," Luca snorts.

"Nothing's simple in this family," I reply.

Kasia squeezes my hand with her good one. "Good thing we like complicated."

A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. She's right. We do like complicated. Twisted, dangerous, fucked up complicated.

"I need to make some calls," Dante says, standing. "Arrow, send out the formal notifications. Luca, I need you to coordinate security for the cathedral."

"What about me?" I ask.

Dante pauses. "Rest. Both of you. Tomorrow's going to be hell."

As we prepare to leave, Alessa pulls Kasia aside. I can't hear what they're saying, but I see Alessa slip something into Kasia's pocket.

"Ready?" I ask when they finish.

Kasia nods. "Ready."

We drive home in comfortable silence, both of us processing the evening's events. My father is dead. The man who shaped me into a monster, who taught me that violence was the only language worth speaking.

But sitting next to me is a woman who speaks the same language and still chose to love me. Who saw all my darkness and decided it was worth protecting.

Maybe Massimo's death isn't an ending. Maybe it's just the start of something new.

"Penny for your thoughts," Kasia says as we pull into my driveway.

"Just thinking about tomorrow."

"And?"

"And wondering if we're ready for what comes next."

She looks at me with those piercing blue eyes. "Angelo, we just survived Chicago, a bullet wound, and your family meeting. What could possibly be harder than that?"

I laugh despite myself. "You've got a point."

"I do, don't I?" She opens her car door with her good arm. "Come on. Let's get some sleep before the real chaos starts."