Chapter 22
DANTE
I am going to be a father.
The thought keeps circling through my head, over and over, like a record stuck on repeat. A father. Me. Dante Salvatore, the man my own father claims is too soft, too emotional, too much like my mother—I am going to have a child.
Rosalina is pregnant.
With my baby. Or Gabriel's. Or Luca's.
And the remarkable thing—the thing that surprises me most as I stand here in the foyer with my arms around her, feeling her heartbeat against my chest—is that I do not care whose it is biologically.
It does not matter.
This baby is mine. Ours. The four of us are in this together, and whoever contributed the actual DNA is irrelevant compared to the fact that Rosalina is carrying our child. A baby we will raise together. A family we are building.
My family.
Not my father's family with its hierarchies and rules and endless demands for perfection. Not the Salvatore legacy with its weight of expectations and disappointment. Just—us. Rosalina and Gabriel and Luca and me, and now a baby who will be loved by all of us.
The joy is so fierce it almost hurts, settling in my chest like something bright and warm and unfamiliar.
I have spent so much of my life chasing approval, trying to prove myself worthy, fighting to earn my place.
But this—this baby does not need me to prove anything.
Will not care that my father thinks I am weak or that the family questions my leadership.
This baby will just need me to be its father.
And I can do that. I will do that. I will be the kind of father Seamus was to Rosalina—present and loving and supportive. The kind my own father never was to me.
"We need to start planning," Luca is saying, his hand still resting on Rosalina's stomach with reverent care. "The nursery, baby clothes, finding the best pediatrician in Manhattan—"
"Luca, she just found out she is pregnant," Gabriel says, but he is smiling, that rare genuine expression that transforms his whole face. "We have time."
"Time goes fast," Luca insists. "Nine months is nothing. We need to—"
"Wait."
Rosalina's voice cuts through our planning, and something in her tone makes all three of us go still. She has pulled back slightly from our embrace, and when I look at her face I see the joy from moments ago fading, replaced by something that looks uncomfortably like guilt.
"Flower?" I say carefully, my hand finding her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "What is wrong?"
"I—" She swallows hard, her eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears. "There is something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you as soon as we got home from the funeral, but I could not—I was so scared and confused and—"
"Bella, breathe," Gabriel says gently, his hand settling on her shoulder. "Whatever it is, we can handle it. Together."
She looks at each of us in turn, and I can see her gathering courage, steeling herself for something that clearly terrifies her.
"Patrick gave me the bomb at the funeral," she says in a rush.
"He cornered me and Erin in her room with a gun to Dolan's back and he told me—" Her voice breaks.
"He told me to plant it here. To make sure you were all in the house when it went off.
And if you were not dead within thirty-six hours—twenty-seven now—he would kill Erin and Dolan and their unborn baby. "
The words land like physical blows, and for a moment I can’t process them, can’t make them make sense.
Patrick wants her to kill us.
Patrick is threatening to murder Erin unless Rosalina commits murder herself.
Patrick handed my pregnant wife a bomb and told her to choose between her sister and the men she loves.
The rage that floods through me is white-hot and immediate, burning away the joy from moments before and replacing it with something cold and lethal.
"Where is the bomb now?" My voice comes out flat, deadly calm.
"My closet." Rosalina's hands are shaking as she pulls the pregnancy test from her pocket.
"I hid it behind my shoes. I was not going to—I could not—" Fresh tears spill over.
"But then I found out about the baby and I realized I could not kill you even to save Erin, and I don’t know what to do because I love you but I love her too and someone is going to die and it is going to be my fault—"
"Stop," I say firmly, pulling her back against my chest. "Stop, Flower. Listen to me."
She is shaking now, her whole body trembling with sobs she has clearly been holding back for hours. I hold her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head, and look over her at Gabriel and Luca.
Gabriel's expression has gone cold, that lethal calm settling over him that I recognize from when he is about to kill someone. Luca's jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
"We are going to fix this," I tell Rosalina, pressing a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the scent of her—soap and fear and something uniquely her. "You are not going to lose anyone. Not Erin, not us, not this baby."
"You don’t understand," she chokes out against my chest. "Patrick has men everywhere. He is the head of the Irish mafia now. He knows where Erin is, he has people watching her, and if we—"
"Rosalina." I tilt her face up to look at me, using my thumbs to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. "Do not worry your pretty little head about Patrick Murphy. I will take care of it."
"But—"
"No." I cut her off gently but firmly. "You have been carrying this alone for too long. Trying to protect everyone, trying to make impossible choices, trying to save your sister while keeping us safe. But you don’t have to do that anymore."
"Dante is right," Gabriel says, moving closer, his hand finding Rosalina's back. "This is our problem now. All of ours."
"And we are very good at solving problems," Luca adds, and there is something dark in his smile now, something that reminds me he is just as capable of violence as the rest of us when necessary. "Especially problems named Patrick Murphy."
I can feel Rosalina trying to argue, trying to take responsibility, trying to carry this weight like she has carried everything else in her life. But I am done watching her sacrifice herself for everyone else's happiness.
She is mine now. Ours. And we protect what is ours.
"Listen to me very carefully," I say, my voice soft but unyielding. "You are pregnant with our child. You have been through hell these last few days—Seamus's funeral, Patrick's threats, making impossible choices. And now you need to rest. You need to take care of yourself and this baby."
"But Erin—"
"Will be fine." I press another kiss to her forehead, lingering this time. "Gabriel, Luca, and I are going to handle Patrick. We are going to make sure Erin and Dolan are safe. We are going to end this threat permanently so you never have to worry about it again."
"How?" The word comes out small, desperate. "He has men, he has resources, he has—"
"Less than he thinks," Gabriel interrupts. "The Irish have been weakened by Seamus's death. There will be members loyal to Seamus's memory who will not follow Patrick's insane plan to start a war with us. We just need to find them."
"And neutralize Patrick before he can make good on his threats," Luca adds. "Which is something we excel at."
I can see the war happening behind Rosalina's eyes—the desire to trust us, fighting against a lifetime of being the one who protects everyone else, the one who sacrifices, the one who takes responsibility for keeping people safe.
"I need you to trust me," I tell her quietly, both hands cupping her face now, forcing her to maintain eye contact. "I need you to let me protect you for once instead of you protecting everyone else. Can you do that?"
She stares at me for a long moment, searching my face for something—reassurance, maybe, or certainty that I can actually do what I am promising.
Whatever she finds must satisfy her because she finally nods, sagging against me like a puppet with cut strings.
"Okay," she whispers. "Okay, I trust you."
The words do something to my chest, make something tight and painful finally loosen.
"Good girl," I murmur against her hair. "Now. You are going to go upstairs and try to sleep. We are going to retrieve the bomb from your closet and dispose of it safely. And in the morning, we are going to start making calls."
"What kind of calls?" She pulls back slightly to look at me.
“The kind that make Patrick Murphy understand that when he threatened my wife's sister, he declared war on the Salvatore family," I say, my voice dropping to something colder than a grave.
"And that threatening a pregnant woman with Salvatore blood in her veins?
That's not a mistake he'll live to regret.
That's the last mistake he'll ever make”
"We have resources too," Gabriel adds. "Contacts, allies, people who owe us favors. We will use all of it."
"Patrick thinks he holds all the cards because he has Erin's location," Luca says. "But he is wrong. We will find her first. Get her and Dolan to safety. And then—" His smile goes sharp. "Then we will have a conversation with Patrick about threats and consequences."
I can see Rosalina processing this, can see her brain working through possibilities and outcomes, can see the moment she realizes we are serious.
"You would start a war with the Irish over this?" she asks quietly.
"We would end a war with the Irish over this," I correct. "Patrick is the one who started it when he handed you that bomb."
"And threatened our family," Gabriel adds, his hand sliding to rest over Rosalina's stomach where our baby is growing. "That cannot stand."
"So yes," Luca confirms. "We will burn down the entire Irish mafia if that is what it takes to keep you and Erin safe."
Rosalina stares at us—at the three men who love her, who have just found out they are going to be fathers, who are now promising to commit violence on her behalf.
"I love you," she says, and her voice breaks on the words. "All three of you. So much."
"We love you too," I tell her, and I mean it with every fiber of my being. "Both of you. And we are going to make sure Patrick Murphy never threatens our family again."
I pull her close one more time, pressing my lips to her forehead in a kiss that is equal parts promise and benediction.
My wife.
My child.
My family.
And I will destroy anyone who tries to take them from me.
Even if it means going to war with the Irish mafia.
Even if it means defying my father.
Even if it costs me everything.
Because Rosalina and this baby are worth more than everything combined.
And Patrick Murphy is about to learn exactly what happens when you threaten a Salvatore's family.