Page 120 of Of Lies and Shadows

In exchange? We forget the past.

Before Francesca, I would have laughed in his face and torn his world apart piece by piece.

But that was before.

Before her love became the compass by which I measure every choice.

Before I nearly lost her.

Before I learned that power means nothing if you have no one to protect.

I tighten my hold on her waist and lean in close enough for only her to hear.

“It’s done,” I murmur, my lips brushing the shell of herear. “No one will ever touch you again.”

She doesn’t look at me, but I feel her breath catch and her fingers squeezing tighter.

She knows… she’s always known. She is my weakness and my strength, my world.

We pass Salvatore without a word, and I can feel his eyes on our backs as I guide my wife toward the car.

We won, and I didn’t need to start war this time.

But God help anyone who ever makes me choose again.

Francesca scans the small crowd, her gaze pausing when it lands on her mother. This time, the worry etched into her features isn’t an act.

The woman looks fragile. Desperately thin and adrift.

I watch her for a moment and try to summon empathy, but I can’t. Not really. I’m a man who’s always mattered. She’s spent decades fading in the background of her own life, and now, at nearly fifty, she’ll have to rediscover who she is without him. That kind of rebirth? It’s not easy.

“She’ll be okay,” I whisper to Francesca. “We’ll take care of her.”

And I mean it. I’ll place her under Forzi protection myself, make damn sure she never ends up with another man who raises a hand to her. Never again.

Francesca smiles softly as I open the car door and guide her inside. I slip in beside her and close it behind us, letting the dark glass cut off the outside world.

“Bruno’s going to stay with her for a bit,” she says. “But maybe we could have her over for dinner sometime soon.”

I pull off her glove, lift her hand to my mouth, and kiss the back of it. Then I lace our fingers together. I always needthe contact. My body aches for it in ways I’ll never say out loud. I can barely sleep without her curled into me, and now that she’s started letting the children call her Mama… my chest hasn’t stopped aching.

Full. That’s what I feel now. Full in a way I didn’t know was possible.

She turns her head and says it so simply, so casually, like she hasn’t just changed my whole life again.

“I think it’ll cheer her up to know she’s going to have another grandchild soon.”

I blink. “Ye?—”

And stop cold.

My mind scrambles to catch up. “What… did you just say?”

She turns her head slowly, a smile blooming like spring after the longest winter. “You heard me.”

But I didn’t. Not really. My brain registers the words, but my heart is too busy slamming against my ribs to believe them.

“You’re…” I can’t even finish the sentence.

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