26. Cassie
CASSIE
T he clock’s taunting me.
Time doesn’t exist anymore. Just heartbeats. Just breath. Just the sound of my shoes wearing tracks into Tina’s hardwood floor.
I’ve been pacing this goddamn living room so long the floorboards probably know my shoe size by heart. But I can’t stop or sit or even breathe properly, not when every minute that ticks by means Aria’s still… gone.
My daughter is out there somewhere with a monster who wants to make a deal.
And I know by now that one doesn’t win when making a deal with the devil himself.
I wish I had gone with Dante.
“Cass, you need to sit down,” Tina says. “You’re wearing yourself thin, babe.”
Tina’s parked on the couch, watching me like she’s seconds from sedating me. Her version of falling apart looks prettier than mine, but I know she’s barely holding it together, too.
I don’t tell her the truth. What right do I have to sit and get comfortable while Aria’s terrified somewhere? Right about now, I feel like the worst mother on planet earth. Heck, take it to Pluto.
“He’ll bring her back,” Tina tries again, but I hear the tremor she’s trying to hide. The fear that’s eating at her, too. “Dante always comes through.”
My hands are shaking too badly to pretend.
Where are they? Where is he?
“What if he’s too late?” My voice cracks. “What if Gino?—”
“Don’t.” Tina cuts me off sharply. “Don’t go there.”
But I can’t stop my mind from racing through every nightmare scenario. Aria crying for me. Aria hurt. Aria?—
No. I can’t even think about it.
“It’s been three hours,” I whisper.
Tina stands and catches my arm as I pivot for another lap. “Cassie. Look at me.”
I do.
“My brother is many things.” Her grip tightens on my arm. “But he’s never failed at protecting what’s his. And that little girl? She’s got his blood. He’ll do whatever it takes to bring her back.”
But what if he can’t? What if this is the one time Dante Romano isn’t invincible?
I pull away, the panic clawing up my throat like a living thing. The bile claws at the back of my throat, sour and thick. I close my eyes, try to keep it down, but my mind spirals back, dragging me under to the day everything changed.
It plays like a movie I hate, one I wrote with my own hands and can’t rewrite now.
Three years ago. Back in Chicago for some divorce stuff. The hotel bathroom.
A ragged, rundown place, I knew Gino wouldn’t think to look twice. Whenever I hit Chicago, I never told him where I really stayed. Fearing he’d be waiting outside, watching like a hawk.
I remember my hands trembled so badly, holding the plastic stick with its two pink lines. Clear as a death sentence.
I stared at it so long that the edges of my vision blurred.
Pregnant.
I crumpled onto the grimy bathroom floor.
The test result had been a cosmic middle finger to everything I thought I had under control.
Dante was gone. Ghosted like it was his passion project. And me? I was stuck. Scared. Wrecked. Barely holding my spine upright.
I could’ve told him.
Could’ve called Tina, gotten a number, tracked him down, and screamed the truth through a phone line.
But I didn’t.
My pride? That nasty, sharp thing I’ve been feeding my whole life? It got in the way. It whispered he didn’t deserve to know. That I could protect Aria better alone.
And something in me—that broken piece Gino had spent years grinding under his heel—couldn’t bear the thought of begging Dante to come back for a baby he never asked for.
And I lied. To Gino. To myself. To everyone.
He believed me. Or pretended to. The timing was close enough if you didn’t look too hard. And Gino never looked too hard at anything that didn’t serve him.
The divorce still went through. The protective order held. But he hovered at the edges, sending gifts for “his” child, making casual threats wrapped in concern.
I built my bakery. Built a life. Built walls.
All on a foundation of sand.
And now… my baby suffers for it.
“I could’ve reached Dante through you,” I admit. “But I was too proud. And now my daughter’s paying for my mistakes.”
“Cass—” Tina starts, but I cut her off.
“No. This is my fault. I lied to a violent man about a child that wasn’t his. I put her in danger every single day she breathed.”
“Hey.” She gets up, grabs my wrist, and squeezes it tight. “Don’t go there. You survived. You did what you had to do. This isn’t helping you right now.”
She’s right. But the truth still sits like acid in my gut.
I collapse onto the couch, legs finally giving out. “I don’t know how to wait while my baby’s out there with that monster. God, Tina. If Dante had known… he would’ve treated Aria right from the start.
Tina sits beside me, rubbing soothing patterns down my back. “One breath at a time.”
Minutes crawl by like years. My phone remains silent. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticks so loud I want to smash it.
“It’s getting dark,” I say, voice hollow.
Tina crosses to the window. “They should’ve been back by now.”
The worry she’s been hiding all day creeps into her voice. It lands like a stone in my stomach.
“Call him,” I beg. “Please.”
The phone rings. And rings. And rings.
“Voicemail,” she whispers, petrified.
My hands start to shake so bad I have to sit on them.
“He’s fine,” Tina says, but I don’t know who she’s trying to convince. “He’s just... busy.”
The room grows darker as clouds swallow the last of the daylight.
And then, the distant rumble of engines cuts through the rain like a blade to the gut.
My heart stops. Then kicks back to life so hard my ribs feel like they might crack.
Tina’s at the window in an instant, shoving the curtain aside. “It’s them.”
The front door crashes open within a matter of seconds.
My knees nearly buckle when I see him—Dante—storming through the doorway like a war just ended behind him. His jaw’s tight, shoulders squared, eyes wild—but all I see is the little bundle in his arms.
Aria.
She’s curled against his chest, dazed, pale, but alive.
“Aria.” Her name shatters out of me, my legs moving before my brain catches up. I reach them, hands trembling, heart cracking wide open. “Oh my god, Aria?” I look up at Dante. “Why isn’t she waking up?”
“She’s fine,” he whispers, kissing Aria’s little head. “The bastard sedated her. The doctor’s on his way.”
She’s so small in his hold. Her head limp on his shoulder. Eyes fluttering open, lashes sticking together like she cried herself raw. But she’s here.
I break.
Tears flood down my cheeks as I cup her face, press kisses to her head, her cheeks, her little hands. She whimpers, burying her face in Dante’s neck, and I can’t blame her. The safest place in the world right now? It’s wherever he is.
I look up at him, and his face… God, it’s carved from stone. But his arms tighten around both of us, one locking around my waist, the other cradling her like she’s glass.
For a second, none of us speaks.
We just… exist.
I sob into his shirt. He holds steady like he’s carrying the weight of all three of us.
And then Tina’s voice slices through, sharp with something like fear.
“Dante.” Her eyes drop lower, her face blanching. “You’re bleeding.”
I follow her gaze.
His jacket’s slicked dark along the side. Blood soaks the fabric. Not his, I realize—there’s too much of it for that, and the way he stands?
Unbothered.
“What… what did you do?” Tina’s voice hardens, cuts like steel.