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

12. Alessandro

ALESSANDRO

D ays have passed since Serafina finally told the truth—Leo is my son. The revelation should have brought clarity, but instead, it's like standing on the edge of a blade, teetering between fury and fierce protectiveness. I have never been afraid, but the fear that someone wants to hurt him has shaken me.

Serafina has been distant, and I can't blame her. Trust won't come easy after everything I've done—after how I left her. I doubt she will ever forgive me, even if I could explain the truth of the past to her.

We're learning how to exist in the same space, forced together by the need to keep Leo safe and protect his innocence. Every interaction I have with Serafina is a delicate dance—one wrong step and the fragile peace between us shatters, and she shuts me out again. But every time I see her with Leo, my resolve hardens. I have to protect them, no matter what.

The rain started early this morning, a cold and relentless downpour that only makes the tension I'm feeling worse. The city is cloaked in gray, and yet the actual storm is brewing beneath the surface. It's not the thunderclouds or lightning I worry about—it's Marco.

Earlier, I had Enzo deliver a car to Serafina—a sleek, black sedan with reinforced armor. It wasn't just a gift; it was a necessity. Her old car was left at the crash site, and I couldn't risk her being without transportation. I glance at my phone—no new messages from Enzo. He's been running security checks all morning, and I trust him to keep our perimeter tight. But Marco isn't someone who plays by rules. He's cunning. Unpredictable. Dangerous. I'm afraid to trust even my best men; anyone could be a rat.

Serafina hasn't spoken much today. She's been quiet, keeping Leo busy with games and cartoons. Distracting him from the palpable tension in the house. When I gave her the car, I told her it was strictly for emergencies. I had no idea she'd decide to leave the estate this morning without telling me.

I caught a glimpse of them earlier in the library—Leo perched on her lap as she read to him. For a moment, it was easy to imagine this was our life—simple, safe. But safety is a luxury we don't have. And the moment we do, I know she will want to leave me.

The rain buckets down, blurring the city lights as they flicker through the windshield wipers. My hands tighten around the steering wheel as I weave through heavy traffic, the hum of the engine barely masking the pounding in my chest.

My phone vibrates against the console, slicing through the taut silence like a blade. I glance down, expecting a routine security update—but the name on the screen stops me cold.

Marco.

His signature calling card appears: an encrypted message blinking ominously. No words. Just a single, grainy image that makes my stomach twist.

Serafina's car.

Parked outside one of my businesses.

And tucked under the windshield wiper—an envelope, bold letters glaring back at me:

TICK TOCK.

My breath catches, my pulse spiking. The message is clear—a threat.

Ice slithers through my veins, but it’s quickly drowned by a surge of fury.

How the fuck did this happen? Why the hell were they there?

I slam my foot on the gas, the tires screaming against the wet pavement. Horns blare as I cut through lanes, ignoring the chaos. My mind is a blur of strategy and fury. Marco has crossed a line.

The distance between me and that parking lot is blocked by traffic and idiots who can't drive in the rain. Every second counts. I dial Enzo, my voice sharp. "We have a situation. Marco's planted a bomb under Serafina's car. I need eyes on that location now." I can't get there fast enough—I am in a gridlock.

Enzo doesn't waste time with questions. "Understood. I'm on it."

Wipers slash across the windshield in a frantic rhythm, but it's not enough. The city becomes a smear of lights and shadows. I want to floor it, but cars are stopped at every turn. Horns blaring, the traffic crawls when it does move.

I can't stop picturing Serafina—walking toward that car, unaware of the danger beneath it. Leo's hand in hers.

Why the hell wasn't security with them?

No.

I press harder on the gas, forcing my way through gaps in the traffic, the engine roaring beneath me. I won't let Marco take them from me. I have only just got her back.

My phone buzzes again. Enzo.

"We've got eyes on the car. It's clear for now, but we're sweeping the area."

"Get them out of there. Now."

"Already on it."

I end the call. Marco wanted to send a message.

By the time I reach the parking lot, the rain has eased to a faint drizzle, but the weight in my chest is as heavy as ever. Enzo and my men move with precision, sweeping the area, their weapons drawn, their eyes scanning every corner for a threat that may not even be there.

Serafina’s car sits in the far corner, untouched yet ominously isolated. The image Marco sent still burns in my mind—TICK TOCK scrawled across an envelope tucked beneath her windshield wiper, daring me to act.

Enzo approaches, his expression tight and unrelenting. “The car’s clear,” he reports. “No bomb, no tracker—nothing. It was all for show.”

The tension in my jaw tightens as I glare at the car. Show or not, Marco made it clear he could get this close. That he could find them. This wasn’t just a message—it was a threat.

And it was personal.

My grip on my phone tightens, the photo still open on the screen. Relief flickers for a moment, but anger rushes in to replace it. Marco played me. He wanted this reaction—wanted me here, on edge, with my focus fractured.

“Serafina and Leo?” I ask, my voice clipped.

“They’re safe,” Enzo replies firmly. “Back at the estate, under heavy guard.”

I exhale, but it’s not enough to dull the sharp edge of fury building inside me. My gaze locks on the car, my mind replaying every move. Marco wanted me to believe they were in danger. He wanted me to lose control.

“How the hell did they leave without my men?” My voice is low, the question biting.

Enzo shifts, his frustration matching mine. “He knew how to bait you. That picture was all it took.”

It wasn’t just a picture. It was a calculated move—one meant to remind me that Marco’s reach isn’t limited to words. He wanted me to feel the weight of the threat, even if it was hollow.

I clench my jaw, my fists tightening at my sides. “Marco made his move.” I glance at the car, a symbol of the power struggle he ignited. “Now it’s our turn.”

Enzo nods, his stance steady. “What’s the plan?”

I haven't got one—yet. "Also, your father wants to see you," Enzo says. "He sounds extra happy today."

Of course, he does. I roll my eyes. I do not have the time to upset my father right now. I will need to go and see him, to keep the family peace.