Extended Epilogue #2
The letter is damp in my palm. “And?”
Cillian’s brow furrows in confusion. “And what?”
“And how do you feel about it?” I ask impatiently. “About being ordered to marry a Santoro?”
His full lips curl into a disgusted sneer. “I’m as thrilled as you look.”
Anger rises in my chest, consuming me.
I’m not a pawn.
I’m not some bargaining chip to be traded between families.
I’m not Emma, willing to accept whatever marriage arrangement gets shoved at me and make the best of it.
I’m Valentina fucking Santoro, and I don’t take orders.
I thrust the letter back at Cillian. “Tell Connor to shove his proposal straight to hell,” I say, my voice shaking with fury. “My brother is the head of this family and Leo would never agree to this. He won’t let anyone use me as a bargaining chip.”
Cillian’s smile is slow and cruel, and it makes my stomach drop.
“You think this is about your brother’s permission?” He barks out a laugh and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Princess, Leo doesn’t even know about this proposal yet. He won’t know until Connor wants him to know.” He smirks at me. “And by then, you’ll have already made your choice.”
“My choice?” I spit the words, refusing to let him see how badly this is affecting me. “There’s no choice here. I’m saying no. End of discussion.”
“Are you?” His ice-blue eyes bore into mine. “Because Connor was very clear. This marriage happens, or the peace treaty is void. No negotiation. No compromise. You and me, or war.”
“That’s not possible,” I rebut, feeling sweat trickle down my back. “There was an agreement—”
“That was only a gentleman’s agreement.” Cillian shrugs. “Nothing was ever written down.” He looks at me with enjoyment. “Leo and Dante really fucked that up, didn’t they?”
“Then war,” I say immediately, even though my heart is pounding. How was nothing written down? “I won’t be sold off like cattle to keep the peace.”
“Really?” Cillian tilts his head, studying me like I’m an interesting specimen.
“You’ll condemn both our families to war?
All those deaths on your conscience?” He ticks them off on his fingers.
“Your brother’s men. Emma. The baby she’s carrying.
All of them caught in the crossfire because you were too proud to do your duty? ”
I flush, nearly vibrating with anger. “Don’t you dare—”
“I dare,” he interrupts, his voice dropping low. “Because unlike you, I’m not naive enough to think my personal feelings matter more than family survival. War between Brennan and Santoro won’t be clean or quick. It’ll be bloody and everyone we care about will be targets. Again.”
He leans in slightly, and I can smell his woodsy cologne. The scent is intoxicating, but I refuse to turn my head away.
“Emma’s already a target,” he continues quietly. “She’s pregnant and married to our family’s greatest enemy.” He raises an eyebrow. “You think she’ll be safe when the bullets start flying? You think that baby will?”
“Connor would never hurt Emma,” I snap. This I know for an absolute fact. “He loves her. She’s his daughter.”
“Connor won’t be the one pulling the trigger,” Cillian says coldly.
“But he won’t be able to control everyone in his organization.
There are men who see Emma as a traitor and want revenge for the men they lost in the assault on this estate.
War gives them permission. War makes her a legitimate target. ”
I jerk as if I was just shot myself.
He’s right.
Connor can’t stop his men from accidentally killing Emma and I know there’s still a lot of anger about the battle six months ago.
Some Santoro guards had to be dismissed because of their distaste toward Emma.
“So here’s your choice, princess.” Cillian straightens, his voice going flat.
“You marry me, and the peace holds. Emma stays safe. Your brother gets to raise his daughter without looking over his shoulder every second. Both our families survive. Or you say no, I go back to Connor and tell him the deal’s off, and we all get to watch everything burn. ”
“That’s not a choice,” I say through gritted teeth. I fucking hate this man. “That’s extortion.”
“That’s politics.” His lip curls. “Welcome to the family business. Though I’m surprised you didn’t know that already, given who your father was.”
Fucking asshole. “Don’t talk about my father,” I snap.
“Why not? He’d have understood and would have made the same calculation. He would have sacrificed you in a heartbeat if it meant protecting the family.”
The words sting because they’re probably true.
My father was practical above all else.
The family came first.
Always.
“And what about you?” I ask viciously, my fingers itching to throw the contents of my champagne glass on him. “You’re so eager to sacrifice yourself?”
“I’m being practical,” he says coldly. “I don’t want this marriage any more than you do. The thought of being tied to a Santoro for the rest of my life makes me want to put a bullet in my head. But I’m also not stupid enough to start a war over my personal preferences.”
“How generous of you,” I say sarcastically.
“Isn’t it?” His smile is knife-sharp, the scar on his cheek more pronounced.
He leans in uncomfortably close again and it takes everything in me to not take a step back.
“Tell me, princess—are you brave enough to watch Emma die? Your niece? All because you were too proud to do what needed to be done?”
His eyes rake over me again, that same dismissive assessment. “So what’s it going to be, princess? Are you going to do the smart thing? Or are you going to let your pride get people killed?”
My whole body is hot with fury. “You smug, self-righteous bastard,” I snarl. “Standing there acting like you’re so goddamn selfless, like you’re making some great sacrifice. You’re just as trapped as I am.”
“Never said I wasn’t.” He shrugs. “But at least I’m not delusional enough to think I have a choice.”
“And I’m not pathetic enough to just roll over and accept it,” I snap back. “Unlike you, apparently.” A thought comes to me and I seize it. “Tell me, Brennan—does Connor have your balls in a vice, or did you hand them over willingly?”
His jaw clenches and I can’t stop my smug smile. Got him.
“Careful, Santoro,” he warns. “You’re not in a position to throw insults.”
“I’m not?” My laugh is cruel. “We’re in exactly the same position. We’re both being used as pawns by our families and both of us are too weak to say no.”
Cillian’s nostrils flare. “I’m being pragmatic—”
“You’re being a coward,” I interrupt viciously. “Hiding behind duty and family loyalty because you’re too afraid to actually fight for what you want. At least have the balls to admit it.”
His pupils dilate and his face pinkens with growing anger. Gotcha, you bastard.