Chapter Fifteen
Unmasked
Stefano
The morning after is worse than the battlefield.
I’ve woken up bloodied and bruised, with corpses cooling at my feet and the metallic sting of gunpowder thick in my lungs.
But nothing compares to waking with Andrea curled naked in my arms, my cock still heavy inside her from the night before, and the bone-deep realization that there’s no going back.
She’s mine now.
Not just because I fucked her. Not just because she screamed my name as she shattered around me. But because I’ve given her something I’ve never given anyone—every part of me. The darkness. The rage. The hunger. And the part of me I swore didn’t exist anymore.
My heart.
Her breath is soft against my chest, her fingers resting over my heart like they belong there. She looks peaceful, despite the fading bruises marking her skin, despite the hell she walked through. My chest aches with the need to protect that peace at all costs.
But there’s a whisper in my head, insidious and sharp. What if Alceu is right? What if I drag her too far into my shadows? What if one day she looks at me and sees the monster, not the man?
I shove the thought down and press a kiss to her hair. Not today. Today she’s mine, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to take that from me.
The door creaks open softly. Mancuso slips in, his grin muted for once. He takes in the sight of us, Andrea asleep in my arms, the sheets tangled around our naked bodies, and lets out a low whistle.
“Well, well. Looks like someone finally staked his claim.”
“Get out,” I growl, tightening my hold on Andrea.
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, bother. I’m happy for you. Just ... maybe be ready for the shitstorm that’s coming.”
My eyes narrow. “What shitstorm?”
“Word travels fast,” Mancuso says, his tone turning serious. “The cartel’s licking its wounds, but they’re not done. And as for the family ... you know how it goes. Guilia will be thrilled. Alceu...” He shrugs. “Not so much.”
I grit my teeth. “I don’t give a fuck what Alceu thinks.”
“Yeah,” Mancuso says, smirking faintly. “That’s what scares him.”
When he leaves, Andrea stirs, blinking sleepily up at me. Her lips curve into a soft smile that hits me harder than any bullet ever has.
“Morning,” she whispers.
“Morning.” My voice is rough, my throat tight. “Did you sleep well?”
“Better than I thought I would,” she admits, snuggling closer. “With you here, I feel safe.”
Her words are a blade and a balm all at once. Safe. That’s what she sees in me, despite the blood on my hands. Despite the nightmares etched into my soul.
I kiss her temple, murmuring, “You are safe with me. Always.”
But safety is a lie in this life.
****
By mid-morning, the compound is buzzing. Soldiers move with purpose, voices sharp, tension thick in the air. News travels fast, too fast. The cartel isn’t retreating. They’re regrouping.
Andrea sits at the kitchen table, Guilia fussing over her with coffee and pastries she’s barely touching. Her smile is polite, but I see the strain in her eyes, the tremor in her hands when she lifts the cup.
I stand near the doorway, watching, every protective instinct clawing at me. Alceu strides in, his expression thunder. His gaze flicks from Andrea to me, then hardens.
“We need to talk,” he snaps.
“Later,” I bite out.
“Now.” His voice brooks no argument.
Andrea glances at me, worry flickering across her face. I brush my hand over her shoulder, leaning down to murmur, “Eat something. I’ll be back.”
She nods, her eyes wide and trusting. Always trusting.
I follow Alceu to the study, shutting the door behind us.
“You’ve lost your fucking mind,” Severu hisses the second we’re alone.
I arch a brow, crossing my arms. “Careful. Just because you run this family does not mean I will stand down.”
“You think you can keep her here, in the middle of this war? You think you can fuck her and suddenly she’s ready for this life? She’s not one of us, Stefano. She’s not built for the blood, the violence, the enemies that never stop coming.”
“She’s mine,” I snarl, stepping closer. “That’s all that matters.”
“Exactly,” Alceu spits. “She’s yours. Which makes her the perfect target. You saw what Matías did with just a few texts. Next time, it’ll be worse. Next time, she won’t survive.”
The words slam into me, white-hot fury surging through my veins. I grab him by the collar, slamming him back against the desk. “If you ever say that again...”
He shoves me off, his own rage sparking. “Wake the fuck up! You can’t protect her from everything. And when the day comes that you fail, because it will come, what then? Do you think she’ll still look at you like you’re her savior? Or will she see you for what you are? A killer. A monster.”
The silence after his words is deafening. I want to deny it. To tear his throat out for even suggesting it. But the fear in my gut twists, because some part of me believes him.
I shove past him, my voice low and dangerous. “Say what you want. Think what you want. She’s not leaving me. Not now. Not ever.”
When I return to Andrea, she’s laughing softly at something Guilia said, though the sound trembles at the edges. Her eyes find mine instantly, her smile softening. My chest tightens.
I cross the room, crouching beside her chair. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” Her hand slips into mine, warm and sure. “As long as you’re here.”
Her faith burns brighter than any warning, any fear. I squeeze her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Inside, the fire rages. Because Alceu might be right. I might be dragging her into something she can’t survive. But I don’t care.
Because she’s mine. And I’ll kill the world before I let it take her from me.
****
That night, when we’re alone again, Andrea curls against me in bed, her fingers tracing idle patterns over my chest. “What happens now?” she whispers.
I stare at the ceiling, my jaw tight. “Now, we prepare. The cartel won’t stop. But we’ll be ready.”
Her gaze lifts to mine, steady and brave. “And us?”
My throat works. I should tell her to run. To save herself. To get out before the darkness swallows her whole. But I can’t.
I cup her face, my thumb stroking her cheek. “Us ... we survive or burn. Together.”
Her lips curve faintly, her eyes shining. “Then let it burn.”
And just like that, the fire inside me is no longer just rage. It’s love. It’s hers. It’s ours. And God help anyone who tries to put it out.