Epilogue
Cristiano
The Vici kitchen is warm and alive with the kind of family chaos I never thought I’d be part of.
A massive dish of baked ziti is fresh out of the oven, and the scent of tomato and cheese and garlic fill the air.
Matteo is setting out salad, plates, and cutlery.
And in the center of it all, Mina stands with Leon in her arms, glowing as she talks with Sofia and Adora about her pregnancy.
I lean against the doorframe, just watching.
Mina’s face is radiant. Happy in a way I’ve rarely seen. She’s laughing at something Sofia said, one hand cradling Leon against her hip, the other resting protectively over her stomach where our second child is growing.
Mine.
All of it. Mine.
The pride that swells in my chest is almost overwhelming. This beautiful, fierce woman agreed to marry me. To build a life with me, and give me everything I’ve ever wanted.
“You’re staring.”
I turn to find Vincenzo beside me, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“I’m appreciating,” I correct.
“Mm.” He studies me for a moment, and I just know he’s going to puncture my good mood.
“So, the Lucanias. They’re fucked now. Eleven capos dead, plus the four you killed.
Dozens of people who work for them were attacked or killed and are now out of a job.
Betting shops and poker clubs burned to the ground.
Everything lost to the Sokolis.” He gives me a hard, unfriendly smile.
“But, of course, none of that made it onto the news, unlike the flashy and important burning of the Diamond Grand.”
The warmth in my chest cools slightly. My eyes find Leon, cuddled in Mina’s arms. “I’m aware, thank you.”
“Did you tell Silas Cross why you stood him up, or did you just tell him to go fuck himself?”
An uncomfortable sensation tugs at my insides. “I had more important things to do these past few months. We haven’t spoken. He’s still alive?”
“Yes, he made it through the Sokoli bloodbath somehow. Maybe you should try explaining to him why you stood him up.” Vincenzo’s tone is mild but there’s steel underneath.
“You mean apologize?” A laugh escapes me, cold and sharp. “After the Lucanias came into my home and tried to kill me? Rafiel and Don Gabriel can cry into their prison food. It will be a cold day in hell before I apologize to any of them.”
Vincenzo shakes his head. “You’ve been a real asshole to everyone since you returned to Malus.”
“What can I say?” I shrug. “I’m only nice to Mina.”
“Try and be nice to your sister at least.” His voice hardens. “She loves you, you prick.”
I glance over at Adora. She’s watching us, her smile fading, worry creeping into her eyes. I’ve been so consumed with Mina and Leon that I’ve barely spoken to my own sister since I returned to Malus.
An unfamiliar sensation twists in my chest. I realize it’s guilt.
Me, feeling guilty about something. Falling deeper in love with Mina really is doing a number on me.
“Come on,” Vincenzo says. “Let’s eat before Sofia throws something at us for letting the food get cold.”
We all settle around the large wooden table. Leon is on Mina’s lap, excited by all the food. Matteo is taking four slices of garlic bread. Sofia is ladling pasta onto plates with the efficiency of someone who’s fed armies.
It feels like a family dinner. A real one, the kind I never had growing up.
I reach for my wineglass, lifting it. “How about a toast?”
I catch sight of Adora’s face. She’s gone pale, her eyes wide and wounded. Vincenzo is glaring at me like he’s considering whether to throw me out of his house.
A toast. The last time I raised my glass in a toast was to mock Adora and tell her I knew that she’d killed our father at her wedding. I twisted the knife because I was angry and bitter and wanted someone else to hurt the way I was hurting.
I set the glass down. “All right. Not a toast. But I’ll say a few words.”
I look around the table. At Sofia with her kind eyes. At Matteo with his easy grin. At Vincenzo who’s watching me with suspicion. At Adora, whose eyes are flickering with wariness.
At Mina and Leon.
“Family didn’t mean much to me for a long time,” I say. “There were too many ghosts in our house, haunting me and my sister.” I meet Adora’s eyes. “We survived, but we did it alone. And I’m sorry that I made you do it alone, Adora.”
Adora’s lip trembles.
“We can’t change the past,” I continue. “We can’t undo the things we did or didn’t do. But I want family to mean everything in the future. And I consider everyone at this table family.”
Adora’s tears spill over. She gets up from her chair and comes around the table. I stand to meet her, and she throws her arms around me.
“I’m sorry too,” she whispers. “For so much. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”
“You were a child. We both did the best we could.” I hold her tight, and then whisper in her ear, “I’m jealous you got to Dad first. But if it had to be anyone else who killed him, I’m glad it was you.”
She pulls back and wipes her eyes, smiling. “And I’m glad you’re happy. Finally.”
“Me too.”
We sit back down. Matteo breaks the tension by asking Leon if he wants pasta, and suddenly everyone is talking and laughing again.
Mina’s hand finds mine under the table and squeezes.
I look at her, and she’s smiling. Not the careful, guarded smile she used to give me. But a real one, open and warm and full of love.
“This is wonderful,” she says softly.
“It is.”
Leon tugs on my sleeve. “Papa, can I have more cheese?”
“Of course.” I reach for the grater, a smile on my lips because my son asked me for something, and it’s one of the greatest pleasures I’ve ever known to fulfil that want.
I’m still getting used to it, that’s for certain. I’m sitting at a table with my sister and her family, with the woman I love and the son we created together, with another baby on the way.
The ghosts are still there. The scars don’t disappear just because you want them to, but they’re fading. For the first time in my life, I’m not just surviving. I’m living.
Sofia raises her piece of garlic bread. “Perhaps we can all wish each other happiness with this? To family.”
Everyone grabs a piece of garlic bread and taps them together, and it feels silly, but it also feels right.
“To family.” Everyone echoes the sentiment, and we take a bite from our bread.
Under the table, Mina’s hand is still in mine.
And I’m never letting go.
Thank you for reading Twisted Devotion.