Page 37 of Vows Made in Silence
Before she can say another word, I yank her flush against me—possessive, brutal. My mouth crashes down on hers, a kiss fueled by raw hunger and rage. I taste her fear, her longing—and her fire. I kiss her like a starving man, like this might be the last fucking time. One hand fist in her hair, the other around her waist, anchoring her so tight she gasps against my lips.
The scent of her floods my senses—sweet musk and faint jasmine—and my cock strains at the memory of her writhing beneath me just hours ago. My pulse pounds in time with the frantic beat of hers.
I groan into her mouth, the image of her naked and gasping clawing through my mind like a devil. The need to take her, to mark her all over again, wars with the need to protect what we built.
I tear my mouth away, breath ragged. “Fuck.” I shake my head, fighting the pull. Not now. Not when my son’s life is on the line.
I press the burner deeper into her palm. “Stay alive. Stay hidden.” My voice drops to a lethal growl. “I will bring our son back to you.”
She trembles, tears streaking her cheeks—but she nods, fierce.
I brush my lips once—soft this time—against her forehead.
Then I tear myself away.
Because if I don’t—I’ll never leave her side.
Daniel is gone.
But not for long.
Not while I’m breathing.
My knuckles flex around the steering wheel as the caravan peels out in pursuit, the smell of burnt rubber thick in the air. My heart pounds, a savage drumbeat.
I can still taste Giuliana’s tears in my mouth. Still feel her body trembling against mine when I promised—swore—I’d bring her son back. Our son.
Now the bastards are running with him, thinking a few more miles will save them.
They don’t know me.
Turk’s voice blasts through the comms. “We’ve locked the plates. Another van’s running interference up north. They’ve got military drivers—precision evasive maneuvers. We’re calling in the second wave now.”
I lean forward, voice a snarl. “No second wave. Not unless they want to pick up body parts.”
Every bone in my body screams for blood. I see Marco’s team falling, Joey gut-shot and apologizing through gritted teeth. I see the look in Daniel’s eyes—don’t leave me.
And I see Giuliana, standing in Frankie’s arms, clinging to that burner, believing in the man who once shattered her.
I will not fail them.
I slam my palm against the dash. “No more shadows. No more fucking games. We end this tonight.”
I yank the comm mic.
“Turk, tell the men: shoot to cripple, shoot to kill. I want that van stopped cold. Anyone who gets in the way—remove them.”
He hesitates for half a beat.
Then: “Copy. Full greenlight.”
A cold smile curls my lips.
Daddy’s coming.
11
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