Page 114 of Of Lies and Shadows

And if she ever finds her way back to me… I’ll be waiting.

When the nurse finally knocks with a smile and says, “They’re here,” my breath catches in my throat.

Lucia bursts in first, her wild curls bouncing with every step, a bright pink drawing clutched tightly in her hand. “Mama!”

She barrels toward the bed, only stopping when she sees the tubes and wires. Her lip wobbles, eyes wide.

I open my arms, wincing slightly. “Come here, baby.”

She climbs up carefully, curling into my good side, her little hands trembling as she hugs me. “I drew you a unicorn,” she says, her voice small. “With wings. So you can fly away from the bad men.”

Tears prick my eyes. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “Just like you.”

Alessio follows more slowly, his usual bravado stripped down to something smaller, more fragile. He stands by the foot of the bed, his lower lip pinched between his teeth.

“Cece,” he says quietly. “You saved me.”

I hold out my hand, and he comes, curling his fingers into mine as Lucia leans into my chest.

“I’d do it again. A thousand times over.”

Dante stands at the doorway, silent, watching. His eyes are red-rimmed, his expression unreadable.

“Come here,” I tell him softly.

He crosses the room and leans over, brushing a kiss to my temple, then one to each child.

And in that moment—crammed into this too-small hospital bed, tangled in wires and IVs, a child on each side and a man I never thought I’d trust again standing guard, I feel something I haven’t in a long time, if ever.

I feel whole.

It takesa full week before I’m finally allowed to go home, despite my daily requests and increasingly impassioned pleas. I feel like myself again, still a little sore, a little slower, but strong enough to stand on my own two feet.

Not that Dante allows it.

He wheels me out of the hospital like I’m made of porcelain, ignoring my scowl the entire time. When we reach the car, he bends and sweeps me into his arms without warning.

“I can walk, Dante!” I protest, half laughing, half-exasperated.

“I know,” he replies smoothly and still deposits me gently into the passenger seat like I weigh nothing. He even reaches across me to fasten the seatbelt, his brow furrowed in concentration.

I roll my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips gives me away. I love this, his care, his gentleness, the quiet way he shows me that I matter. That he loves me.

Dante Forzilovesme.

As he climbs into the driver’s seat, he glances over, a mischievous glint in his eye. “By the way, the kids have a surprise waiting for you. They made a welcome-home banner.” He grimaces. “Let’s just say… neither of them is destined for a career in the arts.”

I laugh, nudging his arm. “Don’t be mean.”

He grins, his hand finding mine between the seats. “I’m not. I’m being honest. But they worked hard on it. They’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed them more.”

We drive in silence for a little while, the road quiet beneath us. I’m just about to ask what’s on his mind when he speaks first.

“I went to the judge with what Fulvio gave me. But it wasn’t enough. Not enough to take down Don Salvatore.”

“Why not?” I ask, glancing at him.

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