Chapter 38
Marco
Eight days since I brought Elena home, and this morning feels different.
She's sitting across from me at the kitchen island, picking at her omelet. Still not eating much, but she's trying. That counts for something.
What counts for more is the way her hand rests on the counter between us—palm up, open. An invitation.
I slide my hand into hers slowly. Give her time to change her mind. She doesn't. Just laces our fingers together and goes back to pushing eggs around her plate with her fork.
Her thumb moves across my knuckles. Back and forth. A small gesture that means everything.
Five days ago, she couldn't let me touch her at all. Three days ago, she let me hold her hand for the first time since the living room. Yesterday, she fell asleep with her head on my shoulder while we watched a movie.
Baby steps. But they're steps forward.
"You need to eat more than that," I tell her.
"I'm not that hungry."
"You're never hungry."
She glances up at me. There's a hint of fire in her eyes—the first real spark I've seen in over a week. "Are you going to force-feed me like a baby bird?"
"If I have to."
The corner of her mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but close enough to make my chest tight.
This is what progress looks like. Tiny moments of the Elena I knew before breaking through the trauma. They don't last long—she'll retreat back into herself within the hour—but they're there. Proof that she's still in there fighting.
My phone rings. Vito's name flashes on the screen.
Elena's hand tenses in mine but she doesn't pull away. "You should get that."
"It can wait."
"Marco." She squeezes my fingers. "Answer it. I'm fine."
I search her face for signs she's lying. She looks steady. Present.
"I'll be quick." I bring her hand to my lips before releasing it and answering the call. "Yeah."
"I need you upstairs. Now." Vito's voice is tense. Urgent.
"What happened?"
"Just get up here."
The line goes dead.
Elena's watching me with concern in her eyes. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know. Vito wants me upstairs." I stand but hesitate. Leaving her alone still feels wrong even though she's been doing better. "You going to be okay?"
"I'll be fine. Go." She waves me off. "I'll probably just water the plants and take a nap anyway."
"Call me if you need anything."
"I will. Now go before Vito sends someone down to drag you up there."
I kiss her forehead—she lets me, tilting her face up slightly—and head for the door. The elevator ride up to Vito's penthouse feels too slow. My mind runs through possibilities. Another attack? Intel on the Costellos? Something with Ronan or Elio?
Rina answers the door before I can knock. "He's in his office. Dante and Rafa are already here."
I find Vito behind his desk with Dante and Rafa flanking him. The tension in the room is thick enough to choke on.
"What happened?" I ask without preamble.
"Sit." Vito gestures to the chair across from him.
I remain standing. "Just tell me."
"We're ready." He leans back in his chair. "The full-scale offensive against the Costellos. Rafa's identified every major location. We've got eyes on their leadership. Our soldiers are in position."
This is what we've been building toward for the past week. Dismantling the Irish operation piece by piece. Making them pay for what they did to Elena.
"When do we move?" I ask.
"That's what we need to discuss." Vito exchanges a look with Rafa. "Because we just received a complication."
Rafa turns his laptop to face me. On the screen is a message. Simple. Direct.
I'm alive. And I want to make a deal. - Liam
My blood runs cold. "Liam Costello?"
"The one and only." Vito's voice is grim.
"How do we know it's really him?" I demand. "Could be someone using his name."
"It's him." Rafa pulls up another file. "The message came with verification. Details only Liam would know. Plus photo confirmation with today's newspaper."
He clicks through several images. There's Liam—older, harder, but unmistakably alive. Holding up today's New York Times with the date clearly visible.
"Son of a bitch," Dante mutters.
"He says he wants to negotiate," Vito continues. "Claims he's been in hiding. That he had nothing to do with Elena's kidnapping or the threats against Rina."
"And you believe him?" The question comes out sharp.
"I believe he's smart enough to know we're about to wipe out what's left of his family's organization. That we have Ronan in custody. That we're coming for blood." Vito stands and walks to the window overlooking the city. "A deal might be his only way to survive."
"Or it's a trap."
"Possibly. That's why we need to be careful." He turns back to face us. "But if Liam's telling the truth—if he really wasn't involved—then this changes everything."
"How?" I cross my arms. "The Irish still took Elena. Still assaulted her. Still threatened Rina. Why should we give a damn if their heir wants to make a deal?"
"Because Liam is the key to ending this without an all-out war that could destabilize the entire city.
" Vito's voice is measured. Calculating.
"If we go through with the full offensive, dozens of our men will die.
Maybe hundreds. The Costellos will retaliate.
Civilians will get caught in the crossfire. The Commission will get involved."
"So what? We let them walk because it's inconvenient? This is Liam Costello we're talking about. The same man that shot up your wedding. With all due respect, Don, I'm surprised you're even entertaining this."
Vito sighs and turns to look at me. I can see the sadness in his eyes. The pain that this life has brought to bear on his soul in that moment. "I'm aware of his prior actions. And, we will make the Irish pay for what they did to Elena, but we need to be smart about it."
"I don't see how meeting with this man is smart."
Vito shakes his head. "Liam was supposed to be their leader. He knows the entire network. Every safehouse, every soldier, every dirty cop and politician on their payroll. He could dismantle his own organization from the inside if we agree to let him live."
The offer is too good. Too convenient.
"Why would he do that?" Dante asks. "Betray his own people?"
"Because he's not loyal to them. He's loyal to survival." Rafa pulls up more intel. "I've been digging into Liam's history. He and his father disagreed on everything. Liam wanted to modernize. Move away from the old violent ways. Mickey refused. They were barely speaking when Mickey died."
"And now Liam sees an opportunity," I say slowly. "His father's dead. Kieran's dead. Ronan's in our custody. The organization is in chaos. He can either go down with the ship or cut a deal and start fresh."
"Exactly." Vito returns to his desk. "He's offering us everything we want—justice, information, the dismantling of the Irish threat—without the bloodbath."
I pace the room, my mind racing. The logical part of me sees the value in this deal. Ending the threat without massive casualties. Getting intel that could protect us for years. Having a man in charge of the Irish that would be an ally.
But the part of me that loves Elena—that held her while she sobbed on the living room floor, that sees her flinch at sudden movements, that knows what they did to her—wants blood. Wants to watch the entire Costello empire burn.
"What does Elena get out of this deal?" I ask quietly.
Vito's expression softens slightly. "She gets peace. No more war. No more threats. The people who hurt her answer for their crimes."
"Ronan already answers for his crimes. He's in our basement."
"And we can make Ronan's death as slow and painful as Elena wants."
"She hasn't even decided if she wants to face him yet."
"I know. Which is why we're not making any moves until she's ready." Vito's voice is firm. "But this offer from Liam has an expiration date. Forty-eight hours. After that, he disappears again and we're back to planning a war."
Forty-eight hours. Two days to decide if we take the deal or go to war.
"I need to tell Elena," I say.
"Agreed. This affects her more than anyone." Vito leans forward. "Whatever she decides, then that's what we'll give her."
I stand there stunned at what Vito just said. Did he really leave it up to Elena to decide whether or not to go to war with the Irish?
"You're leaving it up to her?" I ask, certain I must have misheard.
"I am," Vito confirms.
"But... why?" The question comes out bewildered. Not because Elena shouldn't make this call—Vito's right, it's absolutely her decision—but because I've never known him to let anyone decide matters of war for him. Especially not something this big. This consequential.
Vito's expression softens in a way I've only seen since Rina came into his life. "Because Rina made it very clear that if I start a war without considering what Elena wants, I'll be sleeping on the couch until our child graduates college."
The room goes silent for a beat.
Then Dante breaks the tension with a bark of laughter. "Boss got pussy-whipped by his pregnant wife! That's what this is!" He slaps his good hand on his knee. "The mighty Don Vito Rosso, brought to his knees by a five-foot-nothing woman who probably threatened to withhold the cannoli."
"Dante—" Vito's voice carries a warning.
"What? I'm just saying, it's good to see you're human after all." Dante grins like an idiot. "Next thing you know, you'll be attending Lamaze classes and wearing one of those baby carriers."
Rafa chokes on a laugh he's trying to suppress.
Vito's glare could melt steel. "Are you finished?"
"Almost." Dante's grin widens. "Does Rina make you refer to the baby as 'we'? Like 'we're craving pickles' or 'we're feeling hormonal today'?"
"I will shoot you," Vito says flatly.
"Better check with Rina first before you do."
Even I crack a smile at that one.
Vito points at the door. "Out. Both of you."
"All I'm saying is, Rina's running this organization now and we should probably start taking orders from her directly."
Dante's the only one that can get away with teasing the boss this way. And, honestly? I'm glad for it. We all need someone to bring us back to Earth in this line of work.
The letter opener that whizzes past Dante's head and embeds itself in the doorframe shuts him up real quick.
"Out!"
Dante scrambles through the door, still laughing, but Rafa pauses just outside the threshold.
Vito's expression shifts back to serious. "Dante's an idiot, but he's not entirely wrong. Rina did have strong opinions about this decision."
"She usually does," I venture carefully.
"She said Elena's been through enough. That forcing her into a decision about war when she's barely holding herself together would be cruel.
" He runs a hand through his hair. "She also said that if I'm going to destroy the Irish for threatening our family, Elena gets a say in how that happens.
It's her trauma. Her revenge. Her choice. "
The logic is sound. Rina's logic usually is.
"And you agreed."
"I did. Because she's right." Vito meets my eyes. "And because I promised Bianca I'd protect Elena. That includes protecting her right to decide her own fate."
I nod. Whatever Elena wants, she'll get. Even if it means burning the city down.
"There's one more thing," Rafa says hesitantly. We both turn to look at him. "Liam wants to meet. Face to face. To negotiate terms."
"Absolutely not," I say immediately. "It's too dangerous."
"I agree. But he says it's non-negotiable." Rafa pulls up the message again. "He'll only deal directly with our leadership. Which means Vito. And he wants it on neutral ground within twenty-four hours."
"It's a trap."
"Maybe. Or maybe he's just being cautious." Vito's already calculating. Planning. "We pick the location. We bring enough firepower to level a city block. We make it clear that any wrong move results in his immediate death."
"And if he still tries something?"
"Then we kill him and proceed with the war." Vito's smile is cold. "Either way, the Costellos lose. It's just a question of how much blood gets spilled in the process."
A deal that could end this cleanly. Or a war that could consume everything.
And somewhere in the middle of it all is Elena—broken and healing and trying to put herself back together.
She deserves justice. She deserves peace.
I just don't know which path gives her both.
"We have forty-eight hours," Vito says finally. "Use them. Gather intel on Liam. Verify his claims. Prepare for both scenarios—the deal and the war." He looks at each of us in turn. "And someone needs to tell Elena. She has a right to know what's coming."
"I'll tell her," I say. "But I'm not pushing her to decide. She gets as much time as she needs."
"Agreed." Vito stands, signaling the meeting's over. "Keep me updated. And Marco? Watch your back. If Liam is setting a trap, Elena might still be a target."
The words send ice through my veins. I'd die before I let anyone hurt her again.
I head back downstairs, my mind spinning with everything I need to tell Elena. About Liam. About the deal. About the choice we're facing.
But when I walk into my apartment, she's asleep on the couch. Curled up with one of her plant care books. Looking peaceful for the first time in days.
I don't have the heart to wake her. Not yet.
So I sit in the chair across from her and watch her sleep. Trying to figure out how to tell her that the nightmare isn't over.
That it might be just beginning.