Epilogue
Six months later
Enzo
The cathedral is too fucking bright.
Candles everywhere. Flowers that probably cost more than most people make in a year.
Soft organ music that makes my teeth ache.
The kind of wedding people dream about—white lace, floating veils, polished marble floors reflecting all this manufactured purity.
Tradition and happily-ever-after bullshit wrapped in silk ribbon.
A stage built for innocence, when half the people in this room have blood on their hands.
I hate every second of it.
Not because of Dante. He's my brother in every way that matters and watching him stand at that altar waiting for Bianca—there’s something in his expression I’ve never seen before.
Peace, maybe. Or hope. Something steady and quiet, like he's finally stepped into the life he was always supposed to have.
The monster-turned-family man, ready to fight for once instead of destroy.
Whatever it is, it looks good on him. Makes me proud in a way I’ll never admit out loud.
No, I hate this because she’s here.
Isabella.
She’s sitting three rows ahead on the bride’s side—close enough that I can see everything.
The way her dark hair falls in soft waves down her back.
The graceful line of her neck. The way she keeps twisting her hands in her lap like she’s nervous, even though she’s surrounded by family and friends and should feel safe.
She hasn’t looked at me once since the ceremony started.
Good. That’s how it should be.
So why do I want to march over to her and grab her chin? Tilt her face up until those eyes finally meet mine? Why do I want to break every goddamn rule I’ve spent years following? Why does every muscle in my body feel tight and restless and one breath away from doing the stupidest thing imaginable?
“You’re glaring,” Rafe mutters beside me.
“I’m not glaring.”
“You’re about to burn a hole through the back of her head.” He stretches his legs out like he belongs in this pew, like he isn’t watching me unravel. “How long’s been this time since you’ve last talked to her?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Right. That’s why you look like you want to murder someone every time she’s in the room. Totally normal reaction to having ‘nothing to talk about.’”
I don’t respond. Don’t rise to the bait. Just focus on the altar where Dante is now taking Bianca’s hands, saying vows I can’t quite hear over the blood rushing in my ears.
Isabella shifts. Crosses her legs. The movement makes her dress ride up slightly, revealing soft, creamy skin that I itch to touch. My jaw tightens. My fingers curl against my thighs. The urge to drag her out of this room is feral, wrong, overwhelming.
Fuck.
I force my eyes away. Matteo would kill me if he knew all the things I want to do to his little sister.
God, Luca would probably kill me too. Half the men in this room would.
She’s the family’s darling, the one who gets protected before anyone else.
The one we keep sheltered so she never has to know what it feels like to drown in darkness.
Too late—she already does, because of me. And Rafael is the only one who knows.
The priest says something about love and commitment and partnership.
About choosing a person every day. Words that feel too clean for a world like ours.
Dante slides a ring onto Bianca’s finger I haven’t seen yet—no tracker this time, I’m guessing.
She’s crying, laughing, pulling him down for a kiss before the priest even finishes.
The crowd laughs. Applauds. The whole room warms like sunlight breaking through stained glass.
Someone behind me whispers about “young love” like this is a fairytale instead of two people who crawled through hell to get here.
I continue to watch Isabella.
Her shoulders relax slightly, as though she was holding her breath until now. She smiles—a real smile, one that makes her whole face light up like she swallowed a sun. I feel the hit of it straight to my chest. The kind of smile that could undo a man if he let it.
Christ. She’s so fucking beautiful.
“You’re staring again,” Rafe says under his breath.
“Shut up.” I don’t even bother pretending this time. “You watch the happy couple.”
“I am. I’m also watching you crash and burn in real time. It’s fascinating. Like a nature documentary.”
The ceremony ends. Dante and Bianca walk back down the aisle, grinning like idiots, hands linked so tightly their knuckles are white. The crowd rises and begins to spill toward the reception—velvet ropes, champagne flutes, live band already warming up somewhere.
I should move. Should follow the rest of them like a normal person. Should pretend I’m not losing my mind.
Instead, I stay frozen in my seat.
Because Isabella’s standing now. Turning. And for the first time in months, her eyes meet mine.
Just for a second.
But it’s enough. Enough to make my chest tight, my lungs useless. Enough to drag me back to every memory I’ve tried to bury.
The way she looked at me when she was nineteen and told me she loved me. The way her voice shook. The way her face crumpled when I told her to grow up. That what she felt was just gratitude for saving her life, nothing more.
The lie still tastes like blood in my mouth.
I’m such a fucking liar.
And we both know it. Or at least I know it.
She’s not nineteen anymore. She’s not a little girl with scraped knees and too much hope. She’s a woman now, and she wears the change like armor—stronger, steadier, no longer looking at me like I hung the moon.
I see it. That’s all I can see.
Yet she’s my best friend’s little sister. My Don’s little sister. The princess of a kingdom built out of bullets and loyalty. And I know—deep down, bone-deep—that if I ever put a finger on her, Matteo will put a bullet through my head without blinking. And maybe he’d be right to.
But god, I want to. I want to more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
She looks away first. Breaks the moment. Turns and follows Alessia toward the exit, her dress swishing around her legs like she doesn’t feel my gaze on her anymore.
“You’re an idiot,” Rafe says quietly. “You know that, right?”
“I’m protecting her.”
“From what? Yourself?” He stands, straightens his jacket, already bored with my excuses. “News flash, Enzo—she doesn’t need your protection anymore. She needs you to stop treating her like a kid and start treating her like a woman.”
“She’s Matteo’s sister.”
“So? He’s not such an idiot you know, sooner or later he’ll find out you’ve been ogling his sister for years.”
I glare at him because he should know better. Because even though he’s a cheeky bastard, he understands the rules. “I’m his underboss. I’m older than her. I’ve done things—” I bite back the rest. Things I can’t take back. “She deserves better than me.”
“Maybe.” Rafe shrugs. “Or maybe she deserves to make her own choices instead of having everyone decide for her.”
His words dig under my skin. I hate that he’s right. Hate that I feel it.
“And either way,” he continues, tone softening just a fraction, “you’re going to have to face her eventually. You know that, right? Matteo’s already making noise about her finding someone ‘suitable.’ You think you can stand there and watch her marry some other man?”
No.
The answer comes immediately, violently. It’s instinctive—primitive in a way that has nothing to do with logic or loyalty. The thought of Isabella in another man’s arms makes me want to burn the world down.
Rafe watches my silence with a knowing look. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s what I thought.”
I look away, jaw tight, pulse uneven.
Guests laugh and chatter around us. Someone’s already popped a bottle of champagne. The scent of rose petals and expensive perfume hangs thick in the air. It should feel like a celebration.
Instead, it feels like a countdown.
A pressure building behind my ribs. A storm waiting to break.
I stand, smooth my jacket, and turn toward the reception. My hands still itch. My thoughts are still a mess. None of this is under control, no matter how hard I pretend it is.
The night is young.
The wedding has only just begun.
And Isabella is here.
Which means sooner or later—I’m going to have to stop running.
Their love is stronger. Their loyalty unshakable. But the empire Dante built has one last secret—and one last test for them both. See the beginning of their new life… and the choice that will shape their future...