Page 35 of Vows Made in Silence
— I see Giuliana—bruised, bloodied, shaking—but alive. And that’s all that keeps my finger from pulling the trigger right now. Vescari’s grip tightens on her, gun pressed so close to her temple I can see the imprint on her skin.
He’s smiling like a man who’s already dead and doesn’t know it yet.
“You know,” Vescari sneers, cocking the gun with a deliberate, taunting slowness, the metallic click echoing like a fucking death knell. “Your father begged the Families to erase her. Said she’d poison your rise—turn the future Don into a lovesick fool.”
Giuliana trembles, blood trailing down her temple—but her chin stays high.
Vescari presses the muzzle harder against her head, his smile venomous. “But her father? Esperion cashed in an old favor. Went straight to the Family in New York. Cut a deal—to save his precious daughter, promising them she'd never return to Chicago.”
My jaw tightens, breath locked behind clenched teeth. The bastard’s peeling open wounds I thought were already bled dry.
Vescari’s eyes gleam, relishing every damn word. “And for a few years? It worked. Then one day... your father walks into my gallery—our gallery—on business. And there she is.” He hisses the words, practically spitting them. “With a child. A boy. Spitting fucking image of you.”
He laughs—a low, guttural sound that makes my trigger finger itch. “He looked like he’d seen a ghost. You should’ve seen his face—white as the goddamn marble floors. And suddenly? She’s back in. I’m out. Exiled. My empire stripped out from under me like cheap linen.”
His gaze burns into mine, pure hate. “I built that network. Moved the art, moved the secrets. And then? One look at her—and I’m the liability?” His voice rises, edged with madness. “I bled for your family. While you were too busy fucking a distraction.”
The room crackles with tension. Giuliana’s eyes flick toward me—pleading, desperate.
I don’t blink. Don’t breathe.
Vescari shifts his weight. “So here we are. You got your second chance. I got mine. Let’s see which of us comes out of this alive.”
Turk’s behind me, gun trained, waiting for my signal. My men are already taking position along the shadowed perimeter of the room. Vescari doesn’t know how badly he’s outnumbered. Or maybe he does.
I shift my weight, voice ice. “Let her go, Adriano. You want me? Here I am.”
Giuliana trembles but doesn’t cry. Doesn’t speak. That’s my girl.
Adriano laughs. “You think this ends with you killing me? No. This ends with all of you dead. Like your father. Like everyone who ever believed the Moretti name could outlast its sins.”
He presses the muzzle harder to Giuliana’s head. “She screams your name in her sleep, you know. Begging. Crying. A real work of art, this one. Almost makes me want to keep her.”
My vision tunnels.
“Take the shot,” I whisper to Turk.
Pop. A whisper of suppressed gunfire.
Vescari’s arm jerks—just enough.
Giuliana ducks.
I move.
In a blur, I’m across the room, tackling him to the floor. The gun clatters across the concrete. My fists find his face—bone, blood, breath.
He laughs as I hit him. Again. Again.
“You’ll never be free,” he gurgles. “Not from us. Not from the truth buried in your vault.”
I slam him into the ground.
“I don’t want freedom,” I growl. “I want vengeance.”
Turk grabs Giuliana, pulling her clear.
“Clear!” someone yells.
