Chapter 15
That was the first peaceful night they’d had in months.
After so many tears, so many explanations, and so many truths finally laid bare, Vincenzo and Sara fell asleep wrapped around each other, as if the entire world could wait.
His body completely enveloped hers, one large, warm hand resting possessively over her belly, as if even in sleep he needed to feel that both of them were there—safe.
When the sun began filtering through the curtains, neither of them moved. The emotional exhaustion of the past few days was too heavy. It was only when the clock was already nearing noon that Sara slowly opened her eyes.
She stayed still for a few moments, just feeling…
Watching the weak rays of sunlight slip between the curtains, lighting up the room.
His chest rose and fell against her back.
The heat of his skin. That unique scent that told her it was her man right there…
She smiled to herself and turned her face on the pillow, meeting his dark eyes already open, fixed on her.
“God, Vincenzo… You scared me… How long have you been awake?” she said, holding back a soft laugh.
Vincenzo didn’t smile right away. He simply reached out and slowly brushed his thumb across her lower lip, as if memorizing every detail.
“Long enough to memorize your scent again, listen to your quiet breathing, feel your soft body against mine, know that you’re mine and that you want me just as much as I want you… It’s hard to keep sleeping when you’re right here beside me.”
Sara felt her face heat up. He leaned in and kissed her slowly—a lazy, deep kiss, the kind that was in no hurry to end.
His hand slid down the curve of her body, stopping again on her belly, where her thin nightgown had ridden up a little during the night.
His fingers traced slow circles over her warm skin.
“Good morning, *piccolina*,” he whispered against Sara’s mouth, though the words were clearly meant for the baby. “Your daddy’s here. And he’s not going anywhere.”
Sara let out a soft little laugh, but the sound died when Vincenzo lowered his head and pressed a long, warm kiss just below her navel, on her belly. Then another. And another. Each kiss slower than the last. She buried her fingers in his hair, her whole body shivering.
“Vincenzo…”
“Shh. Let me greet my daughter properly.”
He slowly made his way up her body, kissing the curve of her waist, the space between her breasts, the base of her neck. When he reached her mouth again, the kiss was different—more intense, hungrier, as if seven months of absence still ached somewhere inside him.
“I love you,” he murmured against her lips. “And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”
Sara cupped his face in her hands, her eyes shining.
“Then start by making me breakfast. I’m starving.”
Vincenzo laughed—a low, rare sound—and kissed the tip of her nose before getting up.
◆◆◆
In the kitchen, the mood stayed light… for a while.
While Sara helped prepare breakfast, Vincenzo wouldn’t let go of her.
He’d come up behind her, wrap his arms around her waist, rest his chin on her shoulder, and watch every movement like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
Every so often he’d turn his head and press a slow kiss to the curve of her neck, right behind her ear, making her shiver.
“You’re distracting me,” she complained, laughing.
“It’s hard to resist… You’re more beautiful than I could ever have imagined.”
She smiled.
When they sat down at the table, he pulled her chair closer to his. While they ate, his hand never completely left her belly. Every now and then he’d tilt his head and talk quietly to the baby, promising things Sara pretended not to hear—because if she did, she’d start crying all over again.
The world seemed perfect.
Until something in the air seemed to shift.
Vincenzo stopped eating abruptly. His fork hung in the air for half a second. His dark eyes narrowed, fixed on the kitchen window. His whole body changed—shoulders rigid, jaw locked. He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear.
Sara noticed right away.
“Vincenzo? What is it?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He rose slowly, without a sound, and went to the window.
He didn’t open the curtain all the way. He just parted the fabric by an inch with two fingers, enough to peer out at the street.
His eyes swept the block twice. Three times.
His free hand had already dropped to his waist, where she knew he kept his gun.
“Vincenzo,” she called again, softer.
“Stay there,” he answered, voice low, controlled. Dangerous.
Sara felt a chill run down her spine.
“What did you see?”
“Nothing.” He kept looking through the gap. “That’s exactly what’s bothering me.”
He stayed there another ten seconds or so, completely still, only his chest rising and falling slowly. Sara knew that posture—the same one from the day she met him. It was the posture of the mafioso. The man who had survived things she preferred not to imagine.
“Vincenzo, you’re scaring me.”
He finally turned. The smile he gave her was small, almost forced.
“Just being careful, *amore*.” But his eyes didn’t lie. They were too sharp. On high alert. “Finish eating. Then we’ll go to the living room…”
Sara swallowed hard. The romantic morning atmosphere had completely evaporated. In its place was something heavy in the air. Something that smelled like danger.
Vincenzo came back to the table, but he didn’t sit. He stood beside her, one hand at the back of his neck, the other still near the gun. Every so often his eyes flicked back to the window. Sara could see the tension in the muscles of his forearm.
“Do you think someone’s watching us?” she whispered.
Vincenzo didn’t answer. He just ran a hand through his hair, restless, and let out a short sigh.
“I don’t know. But I don’t like this feeling.”
He knelt beside her chair again, but this time it wasn’t to talk to the baby. It was to look into Sara’s eyes, serious.
“If I tell you to get down, you get down. No questions. Understood?”
Sara nodded, her heart pounding hard.
Vincenzo pressed his forehead to hers for a second, closing his eyes.
“I’m not going to lose you. Not again.”
That was when the sound came.
Tires screeching violently outside.
Vincenzo stood so fast the chair toppled backward. The instant the black van slammed to a stop in front of the house, he was already moving.
“DOWN! NOW!”
Sara barely had time to react. Vincenzo grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her to the floor, covering her body completely with his own.
A second later the roar of machine guns exploded.
Glass shattered. Walls were punctured. Plates exploded into a thousand pieces.
The table tipped sideways as a burst of fire skimmed past.
Sara screamed.
Vincenzo didn’t. He only held her tighter, one arm shielding her head, the other curved over her belly, as if he could armor the baby with his own body.
“Stay down!” he growled against her ear, voice rough with adrenaline and rage. “Stay behind me. Don’t leave this spot!”
He pulled her by the arm, the two of them crawling desperately across the floor littered with glass and debris. Every shard that cut his skin, he ignored. The only thought in his head was keeping Sara and the baby safe.
When they reached the relative cover of the living-room wall, he shoved her into the most protected corner and stood up.
Sara watched the exact moment the man she loved disappeared.
In his place was only the mafioso.
Vincenzo drew the gun from his waistband with precise movements, checked the magazine in under two seconds, and advanced toward the shattered windows. There was no hesitation. No fear. Only a cold, calculated fury—mixed with something far more dangerous: desperation.
Because this time it wasn’t just him on the line.
They were attacking the mother of his child.
They were attacking his family.
Vincenzo returned fire with lethal precision, forcing the attackers to take cover behind the van. Outside, shouts. More gunfire. Movement.
Vincenzo kept shooting, body partially exposed, not caring. Every shot he fired was a silent promise:
*No one touches them while I’m still breathing.*
“VINCENZO!” Sara cried, panic clear in her voice.
“STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” he roared back, never taking his eyes off the street. “I’M COMING BACK TO YOU. DON’T MOVE, SARA!”
More bursts. More flying glass. Vincenzo felt a hot burn across the top of his arm—a bullet that grazed him—but he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t. If he stopped, they would come in. And if they came in…
He didn’t finish the thought. He couldn’t.
When he finally heard the engines revving and the vehicles pulling away, Vincenzo stayed motionless for another full five seconds, gun still aimed at the street, waiting for the second attack that never came.
Only then did he run to Sara and pull her into a fierce hug, feeling the terror of nearly having lost her in a matter of seconds.
“Are you okay? The baby?” His voice came out rough, almost broken. His large hands, still trembling with adrenaline, ran over her body, searching for injuries. “Answer me, Sara.”
“I… I’m okay,” she managed, still shaking. “The baby… I can feel her moving. She knows I’m scared.”
Vincenzo closed his eyes for a second, letting out a shaky breath of relief. Then he pulled his phone from his pocket with fingers still dirty with blood and glass, dialing a number he knew by heart.
The call was answered on the second ring.
“Vincenzo?”
The woman’s voice on the other end sounded alert immediately.
“I need you. Now.”
“What happened?”
Vincenzo looked around the destroyed house. Then he looked at Sara, still on the floor, one protective hand over her belly, her eyes huge with fear. His chest ached in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Someone found her. They know I have her,” he answered, voice low and deadly.
On the other end of the line, the silence was heavy.
“Send me the location. I’m on my way with backup.”
Vincenzo ended the call without another word.
He put the phone away and knelt beside Sara again, pulling her into his arms with almost desperate strength. He buried his face in her hair, his whole body still tense, ready to explode again if he had to.
“I’m not going to let anyone touch you,” he murmured against her skin, voice rough with emotion and fury. “I swear on my life. I’m going to protect my family. No matter what it costs.”
Sara felt the tears sliding down her face.
Because she knew.
The peace was over.
That was the price of loving Vincenzo Salvatore and carrying his baby in her womb.