Page 72 of Brutal Vows

My father and my wife led the threat away from the Russo family.

Four of the best of Nico Russo’s guards—men I’ve trained for years—lie brutally murdered at the entrance of the hall.

Yelling echoes from the lobby. I pour more speed into my legs and skid around the corner.

Several weapons fire. My father jumps in front of my wife. Loretta screams and lunges to punt him to safety, but it’s too late. He jerks and staggers as a volley of bullets tear into him.

I end the three blond-haired steroid guzzling motherfuckers by blowing out what little brains they have left. Red splatters the wallpaper.

A man yells in Russian before he and his buddy shoulder through the front door and book it to the black SUV waiting at the bottom of the stairs. I dart after them and flatten their back tire and crack their back window before pulling out my phone and rattling off instructions.

Five more of Nico Russo’s best soldiers lie strangled at the bottom of the stairs.

Loretta’s desperate voice slices through my frustration. I end the call and dart back toward my wife.

My father’s weak, gargling breaths grow shallower with every inhale. Loretta sits with his head in her lap and her hands futility pressing on his bleeding chest.

Scraps darts out from behind the large vase and whines with his muzzle against my father’s shoulder.

I drop besidemio papàand meet his knowing eyes.

“This is right,mio figlio,” he rasps.

Through the pain of his wounds, relief shines in his eyes, and I understand his words. He’d rather die protecting someone he loves than spend weeks watching cancer eat his body. I nod and take his hand when he offers it to me. He gives me a weak squeeze and offers me a glimpse into his soul.

Now he can meetmia mammain the afterlife with no regrets. They can watch Loretta and me grow our family with peace and joy in their hearts.

He slips his hand from mine, lifts Scraps’s leash, pulls Loretta’s hand off his chest, and curls her fingers around the handle before reaching for mine again. I accept and watch from behind the cold barrier I’ve mastered through years of surviving the seedy underbelly of New York City’s mafia scene as he closes Loretta’s bloody digits around my wrist.

“Take them, girl. They’re yours now. They need you. You need them,” he wheezes.

“I do. I need them. I need you, too. Don’t go. Please, don’t go.”

“I’m sorry,amore, but it’s my time. I’m ready,” he whispers and closes his eyes.

“No. Not you, too. You can’t.”

The remnants of my hardened heart shatter as she pulls me and my father closer and breaks into sobs. She cries and screams the way I long to express myself, expunging the mark of failure and loss while increasing my rage as I watch my new bride fall apart.

Loretta releases me. She shakes my father’s body and demands he wakes up. I grab her shoulders.

“He’s gone, Loretta. Calm down. It’s okay,” I say.

“It’s not okay! There’s so much blood. He’s too cold. We need to—”

I frame her face with my hands and force her eyes to mine.

“He’s dead. There’s nothing else we can do,” I say.

She sobs through her clenched teeth, closes her eyes, and shakes her head.

Warm liquid seeps down the back of my hand. I curse, tilt her neck, and find an oozing gash on the side of her head.

Panic threatens to swallow me whole, but I pull my rage tighter around me and snarl.

“Where else are you hurt?” I demand.

She shakes her head again and looks down at Pops with glazed eyes.

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