Page 70 of Vows Made in Silence

It doesn’t matter.

My vision narrows to a pinpoint. “Why tell me now?”

“Because you’ve already won, Luca.” He takes one slow step forward. “You cleaned house. Burned the rot. You made the family yours. And because part of me…” He pauses. “Part of methinks you might be strong enough to finish what Tommaso started.”

I don’t know what’s worse—his twisted logic, or the way he still thinks he’s the fucking hero.

“Turk,” I say without looking. “Take him. He doesn’t leave the compound.”

Turk appears like a shadow from the hall; eyes locked on Sal.

But Sal lifts a hand.

“No,” he says quietly. “Let me do one last thing right.”

He reaches into his coat—and I raise my gun in a flash, safety off, finger ready.

But he’s not pulling a weapon.

It’s a key.

He tosses it to the ground. “Safety deposit box, Hudson Bank & Trust. New York. Last ledger your father kept. Names you’ll want to end this once and for all.”

It was you that opened the vault and took the kill file.

I had it moved—yes. Because I didn’t want the New York family getting their hands on it. Not then. Not ever.

I don’t thank him.

I don’t speak again until Turk hauls him out, wrists bound, eyes lowered.

The silence after the door shuts is deafening.

I move to the window and look out, but I can’t let myself relax. My mind spins.

A safety deposit box. A final ledger. The last piece of my father’s sins, and maybe the last piece of my brother’s truth.

I call Leo.

“Put eyes on Giuliana and Daniel,” I tell him. “Now. Don’t let them out of your sight.”

Leo doesn’t ask questions. He just breathes out a curse and gets to work.

When I hang up, I stare at the key still glinting under the low light.

How many names are in that book? How many families buried? How many debts unpaid?

My father didn’t leave an empire. He left a battlefield fueled by blood pacts, blackmail, and bodies disguised as a throne. Every alliance he made came with a knife behind the back, every handshake a price in flesh. And while I thought I was taking the reins, Sal kept it running while I thought I was steering the wheel.

A low knock breaks the silence.

Neto enters, eyes flicking to the blood still drying on the marble.

“It’s done?”

“For now.”

He walks over slowly, picks up the key. “You think it’s real?”