Savage Vows (Titans: Moretti Mafia #2)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Matteo

Nash’s voice is tight, no-nonsense. For a moment, he hesitates, his gaze flicking to Alessia before meeting mine.

“What happened?” I keep my voice low, calm, cutting through the tension.

“There’s been an attack.” Nash pauses just long enough for the weight of his words to settle. “The Don’s convoy was hit on the way back from the Braes.”

Our country club.

Around me, everything stills. My mind spins as I process the information, but outwardly, I don’t move, don’t flinch. “A hit?” I demand, my tone hardening.

He doesn’t respond.

“How bad?”

“A parked car detonated as they passed. It wasn’t his vehicle, but the blast was close enough.” Nash exhales slowly, his voice heavy with the gravity of the situation.

Which means we don’t know if my father was the actual target or not. But right now, that matters little.

“He’s alive, sir. Critical condition. He’s been transported to the hospital.”

The words hit my gut as if they were a physical blow. I clench my jaw, feeling the muscles tick with the effort to stay composed. “Casualties?”

“His driver and two guards in the follow car. A mother in a nearby car. Others are shaken but stable.”

Nash’s gaze never wavers. “Could be random.” He shrugs. “Unless someone knew the convoy’s route.”

I drag my hand into my hair and curl my fingers into a fist at the back of my neck. The weight of the news hits me harder than I expected, even though I’ve prepared for this moment my entire life.

This isn’t the first time my father has faced death and I’ve been forced to deal with the consequences, but it’s no easier now than it had been then. Maybe it’s worse because I know everything that’s at stake.

Alessia moves, coming to stand at my side. She gently places her fingers on my arm, and her silent presence gives me comfort.

“I need to get to the hospital,” I say finally, my voice like steel. “I need eyes on him.” And I need some fucking answers.

“We’ve got four vehicles ready,” Nash says, already anticipating my next order.

Meaning the first to leave will be a decoy with a follow car. The SUV I will be in is likely already waiting near the back door.

“The compound’s secure. We’ve doubled the perimeter.”

No doubt Hawkeye Security, the company we’ve hired for extra support when needed, is patrolling the nearby neighborhood.

“Ready to roll when you are, boss.”

When I nod, the guards move out of the room, leaving me alone with Alessia.

“I’m so sorry, Matteo.”

I have no words, just a need for immediate action. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Get some rest.”

Her brows knit together, and her eyes flash with defiance. “I’m going with you.”

I sigh. “This isn’t a debate, Alessia.”

Standing her ground, she tilts her head in challenge. “I’m no stranger to waiting rooms, Matteo,” she reminds me. “You don’t get to decide that I have to stay home. He’s your father.”

Her implication is clear.

He’s also part of her life, and that means she gets to be there whether I like it or not.

Spoken like a Mafia bride. Still, my mouth tightens. I don’t have time to argue with her. “It’s not safe.”

“We both know it’s not safe for you either,” she counters, her voice steady, unwavering. “Probably even more dangerous.” With a breath, she goes on. “I don’t want to be here alone, wondering. Let me be by your side. You’ll need all the support you can get.”

“I have my family.”

She winces at the coldness in my tone and the implication that I don’t need anything else.

Her conviction makes me hesitate. She’s scared—I hear it in her voice, see the way her hands are shaking—but there’s strength in the tilt of her chin, the set of her shoulders. Pride flickers in my chest, as unexpected as it is undeniable.

And in times of crisis, a show of strength and unity is more important than ever. Having my future wife at my side could be advantageous.

“The longer you argue, the more our departure is delayed.”

I consider her.

“Please, Matteo.”

My future wife has figured out how to get anything she wants from me. Damn it all. An argumentative, stubborn Alessia, I can ignore. But a kind, considerate one? I’m fucked.

“Fine.” I don’t like it. I want her here where I know she’s protected. “But you stay by my side. No arguing. You move when I move. And follow every one of my instructions, no matter what.”

“I understand.” She meets my eyes. There’s compassion in her gaze—steady and grounding—that makes it easier to face the chaos and uncertainty that lies ahead.

My phone rings again, and with the situation at hand, I can’t ignore it.

“I need two minutes to change,” Alessia tells me.

“Make it one.” I unzip her dress for her. Then I call out to Chiara. Not surprisingly she’s still in the hallway.

“Stay with her.”

“Of course, sir.”

I look at my phone screen.

Dante.

I answer immediately as I jog down the stairs to the kitchen where my soldiers are gathered.

“I’m with Mamma.” He’s talking before I even answer. “She knows.”

“Good.” I exhale slightly. And if Dante’s there, our mother is safe. “She’ll want to go to the hospital.”

“I’ve got a car ready.”

“Take separate vehicles.” Those aren’t words I ever wanted to say. But if this was a targeted attack, no member of the family is safe, and I need to minimize potential casualties. Protocols must be followed.

“That was my plan.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“You rolling?” he asks.

“Will be in less than two minutes.” True to promise, I hear Alessia descending the staircase. “Meet at the hospital.”

Dante’s voice drops, quieter now. “We’ll fucking handle this.”

I close my eyes for half a second. He doesn’t mean the hospital or our parents. He means everything—the aftermath, the family, the retribution, the war—that may be coming.

Without waiting for my response, he hangs up, and I let my phone drop to my side.

Forcing myself to get it together, I check my device for the missed calls. Dante and Nico.

Since I’ve already talked to my brother, I call Nico.

“On the way,” he tells me, skipping a greeting just like Dante had. There’s noise in the background, as if he’s heading to a vehicle.

“Make sure Bella is there,” I tell him.

Nico is quiet for a moment, and I know he wants to protect her as much as I do Alessia.

“She’s an essential part of managing the situation.”

“Yeah.”

He’ll do his duty, as I will. “And maybe Celeste.” Having a full crisis team on site is probably advisable.

I drop my phone into my pocket. “Dario been notified?” I ask Nash.

He nods.

At least once a quarter, we review our emergency management plan, something we never want to implement. But we need to prepare for all possibilities.

I know plans have been made to secure the parts of the hospital that my father will be in, and there will be a private room for our family to gather.

Alessia joins me. Her expression is grim, but she’s totally composed.

“Stay close, Alessia.” I cup her elbow, my grip firmer than normal, and she doesn’t protest. “Don’t give me a reason to regret this.”

“I won’t,” she promises.

The decoy car is already gone before we’re underway.

Alessia remains quiet while I respond to text messages and talk to my mother.

In what seems like an interminable amount of time, our convoy screeches to a halt under the glow of the Moretti Family Trauma and Surgical Center sign. The letters are a reminder of everything my father has fought for and everything I’m expected to protect.

I step out first, scanning the area, even though guards are positioned around us.

When I’m certain we’re safe, I turn back to Alessia.

Once more, I take hold of her.

Together, we enter the building, Nash in front of us, Chiara bringing up the rear.

“Mr. Moretti.” A man in a dark suit approaches, his voice low. The hospital director. “We’ve secured the floor. And he’s already been taken into surgery.”

I nod, the movement stiff, my focus already shifting to the elevators

“Your father is in good hands.”

“I want to see him.”

“Of course, sir.” An elevator stands ready and waiting. “If you’ll follow me?”

Once we exit, we’re greeted by organized chaos.

Doctors in scrubs dart between rooms, nurses with clipboards murmur in hushed tones, and the faint hum of machinery underpins the tension. The bold red letters on the double doors ahead—Restricted Access—seem to pulse, a constant reminder that everything on the other side hangs in the balance.

My men stand like statues, armed but conspicuous, their sharp eyes scanning every movement in the hallway.

A man in pale blue scrubs greets me. “Mr. Moretti.” He doesn’t shake my hand. “Your father is in surgery.”

So I’m already too late to see him. But that he’s in surgery means the staff reacted quickly.

In a competent, no-nonsense tone, the doctor keeps speaking. “The injuries are severe—shrapnel, internal bleeding, and extensive burns. But he’s strong. We’re doing everything possible.”

I can’t let the words settle. “Define severe.”

“We’ve stabilized him enough for surgery, but the internal damage is significant. If he makes it through the night, his chances improve.”

The room tilts. I clench my fists, steadying myself, forcing the fury and fear down where no one can see. My father is not a man who gives up.

Alessia has not left my side, and her warmth is a contrast to the cold tension inside me.

“He’s strong,” she tells me, repeating the doctor’s words. “You have to believe that.”

Her reassurances shouldn’t matter—they shouldn’t have the power to pierce through the emotional walls I’ve built around myself—but they do.

I glance at her, and for a moment, I let her see what I’ve never revealed to anyone else. My uncertainty. “Belief alone won’t save him.”

“Maybe not.” She doesn’t contradict me. “But it will keep you standing. And that’s what your family needs right now.”

I glance at her. The harsh fluorescent lights cast her in shadows, making her look pale, but her gaze is unwavering. I nod and then turn back to the doctor.

“Call me with updates every fifteen minutes,” I say, each word clipped and deliberate. “If there’s even the smallest change?—”

“You’ll be the first to know,” the doctor promises as he leaves us.

The director shows us to our private area, and he promises that immediate family and Nico will be brought up as they arrive.

Chiara remains in the hallway, but I motion to Nash to join us.

Inside there are comfortable chairs and windows that reflect darkness and despair back at me. “I want them closed.”

Alessia handles my request immediately while I look at Nash. “You think it was a hit?”

He’s too much of a professional to answer directly. “I know you’ll want a full investigation.”

Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions, I’m convinced this wasn’t random. Someone knew the Don’s route, and I want to know who the rat is.

“Police chief has been called. He’ll be here soon.”

“Give me every detail. No matter how small.”

“On it, boss.”

Alessia returns to my side, and my hand tightens briefly around hers, more reflex than intent.

The sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway. Then Nico steps into view first, his suit crisp despite the hour, his expression as grim as I’ve ever seen it. Bella follows close behind, her face tight with worry but still calm—steady, like she always is.

“Matteo,” Nico says, his voice low but firm. He glances toward Alessia and offers her a nod before returning his focus to me. “Any updates?”

“They’re still in surgery,” I say. My answer is as flat and emotionless as I feel.

Nico exhales and drags a hand into his hair. “The Don’s security and Nash are working leads. We’ve pulled every route plan from the past month. If this wasn’t random, we’ll find out who leaked the route.”

My jaw tightens, and I nod. “I want answers.”

Bella moves past me, her attention on Alessia. “Are you okay?” she asks gently.

Alessia hesitates, glancing at me as if looking for permission to speak. “I’m fine,” she says, though her voice wavers slightly.

Bella rests a hand on Alessia’s arm. “I know this isn’t easy. But you’re handling it well.”

For the first time since we arrived, Alessia’s shoulders relax just slightly. Bella has that effect on people. She knows how to say the right thing without trying too hard.

My phone buzzes again.

“Dario,” I say, moving to the far corner of the room. I give the small update that I have. “Where are you?”

“Headquarters.”

Per the plan. Designated survivor. If there’s an attack at the hospital when the whole family is together, consequences could be devastating.

“I’d rather be at the hospital.”

I understand how he feels. “Anything?”

“Maybe. Watching the accounts. If this was a power play, they’ll come for the money next—freeze assets, create chaos, make the businesses panic.”

We couldn’t ask for a better CFO. My grip tightens on the phone. “You think this was random?”

“Not a chance,” he says without hesitation. “Someone knew the convoy’s route, Matteo. That doesn’t happen by accident.”

“Unless he wasn’t the target.”

“So why did the bomb detonate at that exact moment?”

My youngest brother is confirming my thoughts.

My jaw clenches, and I glance back toward the waiting room, where Alessia and Nico are sitting in tense silence. Bella has stepped out of the room. Maybe to make a call. “We’ll find out who and eradicate them.”

“You just keep everyone alive over there,” Dario replies. “Shit, I’ve got suspicious activity. Locking down accounts.”

Yeah. This wasn’t fucking random. Someone deliberately tried to kill my father. Whether they succeed or not is irrelevant because I will hunt them down like the animals they are.

We’ve enjoyed a period of relative peace between families. And as of now, I am the king of vengeance.