Mafia Heir’s Broken Vows (Rosewood Hall Broken Vows)

4. Alessandro

ALESSANDRO

F or six years, I told myself I was doing the right thing. Staying away. Letting her live a life far from the chaos I carry with me. It wasn't easy—hell, it nearly killed me—but it was the only way to keep her safe.

But seeing her tonight, standing in that ballroom with danger lurking in every shadow, I know I've been lying to myself. My absence hasn't protected her—it's only made her a bigger target. And now, Marco's goons are circling her like vultures.

I clutch the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white, as her taillights disappear into the distance. She's driving too fast for these winding roads, but I don't blame her. After the night she's had, she's probably running on adrenaline. She doesn't know I'm following her. Not yet.

The road out of Rosewood Estate is dark and quiet, the towering trees on either side swallowing the moonlight. It's too quiet. My instincts scream that something is off.

And then I see it. A black SUV lurking at the side of the road, its headlights off, waiting. My chest tightens as it pulls out onto the road behind her, speeding up to close the distance. They're not hiding their intentions—they want her to know she's being chased.

"Fuck," I growl, slamming my foot on the gas.

My headlights catch the SUV ahead, its taillights glowing like menacing eyes as it veers dangerously close to Serafina's sedan.

Her car jerks forward, the rear bumper crumpling under the force of the collision. I can see her struggling to regain control, swerving erratically to keep the car on the road. My jaw tightens as I press harder on the gas, closing the distance between us.

The sharp crack of gunfire splits the night, and I curse under my breath. Sparks fly as bullets ricochet off her car, and the glass of her rear window shatters, spraying shards into the night. Her car swerves again, narrowly missing the ditch as the SUV pulls up beside her, their intent clear.

"Not on my fucking watch," I growl, gripping the wheel like a vice.

I floor it, my car roaring as it tears down the dark, winding road. The SUV doesn't see me coming until it's too late. I slam into its side with a deafening crunch of metal, sending it skidding off the road. Dirt and debris spray into the air as the vehicle lurches to a halt in the ditch.

Serafina's sedan struggles forward, smoke billowing from the engine. She's slowing down, the car barely holding together after the beating it's taken. I veer around her, moving in front and jamming on my brakes. My car screeches to a stop, and I'm out before the engine cuts off.

"Serafina, get down!" I roar, pulling my gun from the holster at my side.

I don't wait to see if she listens. My focus shifts to the SUV as its doors fly open, armed men spilling out with their weapons raised. They're reckless, firing indiscriminately. Bullets rip through the air, hitting the back of Serafina's car, further mangling it.

I take aim and fire, my shots precise and deliberate. One of the men drops with a shout, clutching his arm, while the others retreat under the cover of the night. The SUV's tires spin as they scramble to get away, the vehicle lurching back onto the road before disappearing into the darkness.

The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the faint hum of Serafina's battered engine and the ragged sound of my breathing. I glance back at her car. The rear is riddled with bullet holes, the shattered glass glinting in the moonlight.

I stride over to her, my shoes crunching on the gravel and shards of glass scattered across the road. She's still sitting there, frozen, her hands gripping the steering wheel like it's the only thing anchoring her.

I yank open her door. "Are you hurt?" My tone is sharp, demanding, but I need to know.

She shakes her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "No, but?—"

"But nothing." I cut her off, gripping her arm gently but firmly. "Get out. Now."

Her legs tremble as she steps out, and I don't give her time to argue. "My car?—"

"Leave it," I snap. "It's not safe here."

She hesitates, but one look at my face, and she doesn't fight me. I lead her to my car, opening the passenger door and practically lifting her inside. She's still in shock, her breaths shallow, her eyes unfocused.

I slam the door and round the car, sliding back into the driver's seat. The engine roars to life, and I peel out of the lot, leaving her wrecked car behind. With a firm grasp, I clutch the steering wheel, casting a sideways look in her direction. She's pale, shaken, but alive.

That's all that matters. For now.

The silence in the car is deafening, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional creak of the leather seats as the car takes another sharp turn. Serafina sits rigid in the passenger seat with her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

I keep my eyes on the road, my grip on the wheel firm. The tension in the air is thick, and suffocating. My mind replays the attack over and over, each detail sharp and vivid. The sight of her car being rammed, the sound of gunshots, the terror etched on her face—it's burned into me now, and it's not going away anytime soon.

"Are you going to tell me what the fuck that was about?" I finally break the silence, my voice sharp.

She doesn't look at me, her gaze fixed on the windshield. "I don't know."

"Bullshit." My tone hardens. "Marco's men don't just go after someone without a reason. What aren't you telling me?"

Her jaw tightens, and she finally turns to me, her eyes blazing with anger. "Why do you even care, Alessandro? You left. You don't get to come back and start asking questions like you're still a part of my life."

Her words are a slap to the face, but I don't flinch. "You were almost killed tonight. That makes it my business."

"Your business?" She laughs bitterly, shaking her head. "You think everything is your business. You think you can just swoop in, throw your weight around, and fix everything. But guess what? You can't. Not this time."

Her voice cracks on the last word, and for a moment, the anger between us gives way to something deeper. Something raw.

"Serafina," I say, my voice softer now, almost a plea. "This isn't just about you. Whoever's after you won't stop. And you know it."

She looks away, her fingers curling into fists in her lap. "I can handle it."

"No, you can't." The words are out before I can stop them. "And you don't have to. Not alone."

Her lips press into a thin line, but it's her eyes that betray her—widening with a flicker of fear I can't place. For the first time tonight, I wonder what she's truly hiding.

She looks away, her fingers curling into fists in her lap. The cracks in her armor are finally showing, and I can see just how much she's been holding in.

The car slows as I pull into a dimly lit parking garage on the outskirts of the city. It's empty, the flickering fluorescent lights casting eerie shadows on the concrete walls. I kill the engine, the silence once again wrapping around us like a vice.

"We're not safe out here," I say, breaking the quiet. "You're coming with me."

Her head snaps toward me, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What?"

"Until we figure out why Marco's men are after you, you're not going anywhere alone."

She glares at me, her anger flaring up again. "You don't get to decide that."

"I just did."

Her mouth opens, ready to argue, but the words die on her lips. She looks away, staring out the window at the desolate garage. I see the moment she gives in, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Fine," she mutters. "But this doesn't mean I trust you."

I smirk, the corner of my mouth lifting in a humorless smile. "I don't need your trust, Serafina. I just need you alive."

She turns her head, her gaze meeting mine, and for a brief second, I see something flicker in her eyes. Something that feels like... regret.

But just as quickly, it's gone.

I push open the door and step out, scanning the area for any signs of danger. My hand rests on the gun holstered at my side, ready for anything. When I'm sure the coast is clear, I motion for her to follow.

She climbs out of the car, her movements slow and hesitant. She doesn't say anything as we head toward the exit, but her silence speaks volumes.

And as much as I want answers, I know now isn't the time to push.

We're walking into a war—one I should've ended years ago. And this time, I'm not leaving her to fight it alone.