Page 71 of Broken Vows

Her smile is sharp as a blade. "He won't. But Maya might."

The plane begins its descent, and I can see Manhattan in the distance—my city, my empire, now turned against me by the family that built it. Everything I've worked for, every sacrifice I've made, rendered worthless by a brother's jealousy and a father's paranoia.

"Vincent," Melinda says softly. "What happens if this doesn't work? If my family doesn't trust you, if yours hunts us both?"

I think about that—about being cut off from everything I've known, everything I am. About starting over with nothing but the woman beside me and the child growing inside her.

"Then we disappear," I say simply. "New identities, new lives, somewhere far from all this blood and betrayal."

She nods slowly. "I've thought about that too. Before Boston, before everything exploded. Just vanishing with the baby, becoming someone else entirely."

"And?"

"And I realized I can't run from what I am. From what we are." Her amber eyes meet mine, fierce and determined. "Our daughter deserves better than parents who hide from their legacy. She deserves parents who fight to change it."

The plane touches down with barely a bump, and I watch through the window as black SUVs circle the aircraft—not my security, but not hostile either. Neutral ground, at least for now.

I stand, offering Melinda my hand. "Ready to make history?"

She takes it, letting me pull her up. "Let's go prevent a war."

As we walk toward the aircraft door, my phone buzzes one final time. A message from Marco, time-stamped just minutes ago:Enjoy your last day breathing, brother. Dad's finally seen sense.

I delete it without showing Melinda.

***

The Mastroni compound rises before us like a fortress of old-world power and new-world paranoia. Twelve-foot walls topped with razor wire, security cameras tracking our approach, and enough armed guards to start a small war. I've studied this place for years, planned hypothetical attacks on its weaknesses, but I've never imagined walking through the front gate.

"State your business," the guard at the checkpoint demands, assault rifle held casually but ready. His accent is pure Brooklyn, his eyes pure killer.

"Vincent Russo to see Max Mastroni," I say calmly. "I'm expected."

That's a lie, but delivered with enough confidence to make him pause. He glances at Melinda, recognition flickering across his face, then speaks rapidly into his radio in Italian too fast for me to follow.

"Step out of the vehicle," he orders. "Arms spread, no sudden movements."

I comply, letting them pat me down. They find my Glock, my spare magazine, the knife in my boot. Standard arsenal for a man in my position.

"He keeps the weapons," Melinda says from the passenger seat, her voice carrying absolute authority. "Family business."

The guard hesitates, clearly torn between protocol and the direct order from a Mastroni daughter. Finally, he nods. "Drive straight to the main house. No stops, no deviations. You're being watched."

As we roll through the gates, I count positions—guards in towers, rooftop snipers, mobile patrols. The Mastronis don't fuck around with security, and right now, every gun is probably aimed at my head.

"Second thoughts?" Melinda asks, noting my assessment.

"Too late for those." I park in the circular drive, noting how the positions shift as we approach the house. Professional, coordinated, lethal. "Your family's thorough."

"We learned from the best." Her smile is grim. "Usually by studying Russo methods."

The front door opens before we can knock. Max stands there, six feet of controlled violence in an expensive suit, his dark eyes calculating distances and angles. Behind him, I can see movement—more security, family members, the inner circle of one of New York's most dangerous organizations.

"Vincent Russo," he says, my name sounding like a curse. "Either you've got the biggest balls in the city, or you're stupider than I thought."

"Maybe both," I reply. "But we need to talk. All of us."

He studies me for a long moment, then steps aside. "Come in. But know that if this is some elaborate setup, you'll die badly."

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