Page 41 of Sworn to the Enemy

Serafina

The clinic’s air is cool and sterile, a sharp contrast to the warmth blooming in my chest as I lie on the exam table, my hand clasped in Enzo’s.

His fingers are rough but stead as he holds firmly to me.

His eyes are fixed on the ultrasound screen, their dark depths soft with something I’ve only recently learned to name—love.

Six months pregnant, my belly curves under the thin gown, our baby a quiet promise beneath my skin.

The technician moves the wand, her smile gentle, and the room fills with the steady thump of a heartbeat, fast and strong, a rhythm that makes my throat tighten.

Enzo’s grip tightens, his breath catching, and I feel it too, the weight of this moment, fragile and sacred.

The screen flickers, a grainy image sharpening, and I see it—our baby, tiny limbs curling, a profile delicate but fierce, already carrying the fire I know she’ll inherit.

“It’s a girl,” the technician says, her voice soft, and the words hit like sunlight, warm and blinding. A girl. My daughter.

Tears prick my eyes, spilling over. I seem to do that a lot these days. I turn to Enzo, his face a mirror of my awe, his own eyes glistening.

“A girl,” he whispers, his voice rough, cracking with emotion, and I nod, my heart too full to speak, love for him, for her, swelling until it hurts.

He leans close, his forehead pressing against mine, his breath warm on my skin. “I’ll always protect you,” he murmurs, his voice low and fierce, a vow that wraps around us. “Both of you, Fina, no matter what.”

His hand moves to my belly, resting there, and I feel our daughter shift, a flutter under his palm, as if she knows his promise, trusts it. I cover his hand with mine, tears falling freely now, not from fear but from joy, from the life we’re building, scarred but whole.

“I know,” I whisper, my voice trembling, believing him, needing him, loving him more than I thought possible.

The technician steps out, giving us a moment, and I think of how far we’ve come. Our enmity, the forced alliance, Adriano—it’s behind us now.

Enzo’s love, his confession that night in the manor, has changed everything, a light in the dark of my doubts. I’m not the girl I was, bound by a deal, fighting for scraps of trust. I’m his wife, his partner, a mother, and the strength of that fills me, steady and sure.

Outside, in the waiting room, Riccardo’s there, his face lighting up when he sees us. He’s different now, softer, the distance between us gone. We’re closer than ever, siblings forged in fire, his worry for me during my kidnapping a bridge we’ve crossed together.

“Everything good?” he asks, his voice casual but his eyes sharp, and I nod, smiling, my hand still in Enzo’s.

“A girl,” I say, and his grin widens, genuine, a rare warmth that makes my heart ache with gratitude. He hugs me, careful of my belly, and I feel the bond we’ve rebuilt, stronger than before.

We step into the afternoon sun, the city alive around us, and I think of Papa. His health is strong again. He’s planning a feast tonight, a celebration of family, of survival, and I’m eager to see him, to share this news.

Enzo’s arm wraps around me, his touch protective, and I lean into him, my heart full. Our daughter’s heartbeat echoes in my mind, a song of hope, of love, and I know this is just the beginning, our story far from over.

We still have to deal with Adriano.

The manor’s warmth fades as Enzo leads me down the stone steps to the basement, his hand firm in mine, his jaw set with a purpose that mirrors my own. The ultrasound’s glow, our daughter’s heartbeat, still pulses in my chest, a fragile light against the darkness we’re descending into.

Adriano waits below, his betrayal a wound we must seal, and though my heart pounds, I’m not afraid. Enzo’s love, his vow to protect us, steadies me, and I know this final reckoning is ours to share, a justice for the pain he inflicted.

The basement air is cold, heavy with damp, the rough walls lit by a single bulb that casts jagged shadows. My boots echo on the concrete, each step a weight, but Enzo’s grip keeps me grounded, his eyes meeting mine, fierce yet tender.

“You can stay upstairs,” he says, voice low, rough with worry, but I shake my head, my resolve unyielding.

“I need to see this through,” I say, my voice steady despite the chill creeping up my spine.

“For Lucia, for our girl, for us.” He nods, a flicker of pride in his gaze, and we move forward, side by side, into the heart of our vengeance.

Adriano sits chained to a chair, a broken shadow of the silver-haired serpent who held a knife to my throat.

His face is gaunt, skin ashen, eyes hollow from days of torture, his once-crisp suit now torn and stained with blood.

Bruises bloom across his jaw, his lip split, yet his gaze, when it lifts to mine, still carries a spark of defiance, a dying ember of the man who thought he could shatter us.

My stomach twists, not with pity but with fury, remembering his cruel laugh, the blade pricking my skin, his vow to kill Enzo and steal our world.

Enzo steps forward, his presence a storm, his gun gleaming in the dim light like a promise of finality. “You betrayed my mother,” he says, voice low, each word a blade. “You framed the Rossis, sparked a war, and you dared lay hands on my wife.”

Adriano’s lips twitch, a weak sneer, his voice rasping, barely audible.

“You’re nothing, Enzo. You're weak. Lucia was blind, and so is she.” His eyes flick to me, venom in their depths, and my blood surges, my fists clenching, but I hold still, letting Enzo lead, trusting him to end this once and for all.

I watch, my breath shallow, as Enzo raises the gun, his hand steady, his eyes cold but burning with a fire I know too well. “This is for Lucia,” he says thickly, “for Fina, for our daughter.”

“Your father will be disappointed, ”Adriano taunts, even as the gun presses against the skin of his head.

The shot cracks, sharp and final, and Adriano’s head jerks back, blood blooming dark, his body slumping lifeless. My heart lurches, relief and horror tangling, but I don’t flinch. This is justice, raw and necessary, for the lives he tore apart, the fear he sowed.

Enzo lowers the gun, his shoulders rigid, and turns to me, his eyes searching mine, asking if I’m whole. I nod, stepping close, my hand on his arm, anchoring us both in this moment of closure.

We climb back to the manor, the air lighter with each step, Adriano’s betrayal left behind in the basement’s cold embrace.

Enzo’s quiet, his hand still in mine, and I feel the weight he carries, the toll of what he’s done.

Adriano had been his father's most trusted aide after all, and by extension, his, too.

In our room, I pull him to me, my hands cupping his face, needing to soothe the shadows in his eyes. “It’s done,” I whisper, my voice gentle, and he nods, his breath uneven, his hands settling on my waist, careful of my belly.

“You’re safe now,” he says, echoing my words from that night, and I smile, tears pricking, knowing he means it, for me, for our daughter.

His lips find mine, tentative at first, then deepening, a spark that ignites into fire. I kiss him back, my hands sliding under his shirt, tracing the heat of his skin, the strength of him, my love a tide I can’t contain.

He lifts me gently, laying me on the bed, his eyes locked on mine, dark with desire but soft with love. “Fina,” he murmurs, voice rough, “Ti amo.” The words hit like they did that night, raw and true, and I pull him closer, my fingers in his hair, my heart bare.

“I love you too,” I whisper, my voice trembling, meaning it with every breath, for the man who saved me, who fights for us, who’s mine.

Our clothes slip away, each touch a vow, a reclaiming of what Adriano tried to destroy. His hands trace my curves, lingering on my belly, a silent promise to our daughter, and I arch into him, needing this, needing him.

We move together, slow and deep, the world dissolving, the manor’s silence wrapping us in its embrace. His breath is warm on my neck, his whispers of love a melody in my ear, and I cling to him, my body alive, my heart overflowing.

After, we lie tangled, my head on his chest, his heartbeat steady under my cheek, his hand resting on my belly where our daughter stirs, a flutter that makes us both pause.

“She’s fierce,” he says, voice soft, a smile in his words, and I nod.

“Like her father,” I murmur, and he chuckles, a low sound that warms me, his lips brushing my forehead.

“Like her mother,” he says, and I smile, knowing she’ll carry our strength, our love, into whatever lies ahead.

Enzo pulls me closer, his warmth a shield, and I feel the depth of our love, a fire that won’t fade. The notion is convincing as sleep peacefully claims me.

The End.

Dear valued reader, I sincerely want to thank you for taking the time to read Sworn To The Enemies.

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