Page 18 of Vows Made in Silence

It opens with a groan—and there she is.

Sophia stumbles in, breathless. Face pale. Hair wind-whipped. Her chest heaves like she ran here with a demon on her heels. Her gaze darts to Luca’s raised weapon.

“Jesus,” she gasps, lifting both hands. “You planning to shoot me, or let me talk?”

“That depends,” Luca says. “On what you brought to the table.”

Sophia’s eyes lock with mine, pleading.

“We don’t have time for posturing. I overheard something at the Lux. One of Roselli’s men was in the back hallway—drunk, loud, careless. He didn’t see me. But I heard enough.”

She swallows hard.

“The New York Family called a meeting. Tonight. They’ve got muscle flying in. Someone tipped them off. They think you’ve got Vittorio’s secrets buried in this gallery—secrets that could unravel more than reputations.”

Luca stiffens.

I step back, pulse stuttering.

Sophia continues, voice low and fast.

“I heard Shorty tell someone, ‘You found her—because that old bastard Vittorio couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut. He was supposed to carry it to his grave. But no. He had to unburden himself. Couldn’t choke on it alone. Couldn’t die without ripping the last stitch holding the families together.’”

My stomach twists.

Luca’s jaw is stone.

“Now they know,” Sophia says. “The families. The old guard. The ones who whispered in the shadows while Vittorio built his empire. They know he told you something. Or think he did. And they’re scared.”

“Of what?” I whisper.

“Of what he left behind,” she says. “Bribes. Blackmail. Blood money. Every thread they stitched into their power. If you remember any of it—or if someone pulls it out of you—you could burn them all down.”

I whisper, “But I don’t know anything.”

Luca’s head snaps toward me like I just lit a match.

Sophia answers quietly. “That’s exactly why they’re afraid. Because you don’t know what you know. And if the wrong person asks the right question... you might remember everything.”

Luca lowers the gun—just slightly.

Still watching her. Calculating.

“Where?”

“Warehouse on Decatur,” she breathes.

“Absolutely not.”

I step in front of him.

“That’s a suicide mission.”

Luca’s eyes scorch into mine.

“You think I’m going to sit still while they come for you in the dark?”

His voice is fire.