Page 86 of Taming a Ruthless Heart

Three Months Later

Ilean against the glass wall of my office, staring down at the streets of Boston.From up here, the city looks like a glittering maze of lights and motion, oblivious to the dark secrets lurking beneath its polished surface.The skyline stretches wide, towering structures casting shadows over narrow streets, each one filled with its own brand of ambition, corruption, and survival.I wonder how many of the people down there know what it means to truly fight for something—or someone.

Alexia has shown me how to fight.I’ve been a warrior all my life, but she taught me what’s worth fighting for.And now, as I run my hand over the inside pocket of my suit jacket where her last ultrasound photo rests, I feel a kind of peace I never thought I’d deserve.

Six to eight weeks.That’s all we have left before our lives change again, this time in a way that doesn’t involve blood or vengeance but love and happiness.The thought makes me smile, a slow warmth spreading through me.I can’t wait to meet our child, to watch Rose grow into the incredible woman she’s destined to be, to build a future with Alexia by my side.I’m not naive to think our lives will ever be free of danger.But I believe we might have a shot at real happiness.

The intercom on my desk crackles, interrupting my thoughts.I press the button.“Yes?”

“Mr.Boyle, your video call with Michael Silvieri.”

I nod to the assistant through the glass, then straighten my suit and settle into the leather chair behind my desk.The screen lights up, and a moment later, Michael’s face fills the display.I meet his dark blue eyes framed by high cheekbones and a jawline as hard as granite.Michael’s seen his share of darkness, like me, yet there’s a controlled ferocity in his eyes—a hunger for justice that I respect.I’ve gotten to know him better since my brother Nick married his sister.

“Dave,” he greets.“It’s been a while.”

“Michael,” I say, leaning back, keeping my tone even.“Thanks for making the time.”

He nods, his gaze steady.Behind him, I get a glimpse of his office.The minimalist space that suits him—no nonsense, no frills, just essentials.“You asked for an update?”

“Only if it’s a good one,” I reply, folding my hands on the desk.

“Better than good,” he says.“After you told me what Alexia uncovered about Igor, I reached out to the Camorra.Turns out, they’re more than interested.Igor made his share of enemies over there.Got reckless enough to go after the Camorra’s leader’s family.Molested his grandson, like Alexia told you.”His voice sharpens, a flicker of disgust crossing his face.

I feel a wave of satisfaction at the news.“I knew he’d left a trail, but that… that’ll make them eager to close ranks with us.”

Michael nods, a grim smile pulling at his mouth.“They were relieved to hear Rose isn’t Igor’s daughter.And, more importantly, that Alexia ended him herself.With him gone, they don’t hold any grudges.The Camorra’s leader wanted me to pass along his thanks to the Boyles.”

I let out a slow breath, letting the relief settle in.“Good.We might have done them a favor they didn’t even know they needed.”

I wonder how deep Igor’s reach went—how many others like him still walk free, preying on the innocent, protected by money and silence.I know the world won’t change overnight, but it’s a start.

Michael’s gaze softens.“Congratulations!Angie told me you and Alexia are about to welcome another baby.”

I nod, pride puffing my chest.“Thank you.We couldn’t be happier.”

His voice drops to a rumble.“Seems like it’s catching.First, Angie and Nick.Now, you and Alexia.I’m starting to wonder if I’m next.”

We chuckle and say goodbye, ending the call.

A knock on the office door makes me glance up to see Tommy standing there, his face pale, his eyes wide with excitement and a hint of dread.

“Tommy,” I say, raising an eyebrow.“What’s got you all riled up?”

He crosses the room, a stack of papers clutched in his hand.

Dropping the papers on my desk, he whispers, “Remember that codename you saw in Sergei’s files?Dracul?”

The name sends a chill down my spine.That part of our lives rears its ugly head again.“Yeah, I do.There was also that mention of Mom and her work?What about it?”

Tommy’s eyes are intense.He splays his hands on the papers.“They’re connected.”

I look at the signature he’s pointing to.“This is some kind of contract?Is it signed in blood?”

My stomach sinks as dread fills my soul.In our world, there are few kinds of contracts that require a signature in blood.

Tommy nods.“This Dracul guy—he wanted Mom assassinated.”

His words confirm my fear.That was the contract between Dracul and an assassin.

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