Page 25 of My Solemn Vow
Not even my father’s final wishes could gain me entry into the boys’ club entirely.
“You better prepare yourself.” Berto shakes his head, hanging up the phone. He warns me while looking at the screen as it goes dark. “Don D’Medici is pissed. Your head will roll if this doesn’t work out. Pray the Irish give you an easy husband.”
Berto walks away down the hall, leaving me with his weapon. In smooth, practiced movements, I flick the safety on and lower the weapon to my side.
I called for the truce.
The warning stories and consequences of my actions slowly sink in. What I’ve done, beyond turning on my family, is incite a massive negotiation. It could be days or weeks in the making. I’ve put my and Kerrianne’s lives on the line. If they don’t come to an agreement, the families have the right to kill us both.
Uncle Gregorio will kill me without issue, and if the Cavanaghs don’t kill Kerrianne, it’ll become a blood bath.
Finally, Berto walks out the door at the end of the hall, and I can draw steady breaths. My shoulders relax slightly, but I’mstill tense. My heart returns to a steady thrum. It doesn’t matter what I’m feeling though. There’s a little girl in my classroom. One who is probably terrified from being dragged down a hallway after her regular bodyguard didn’t show up. She needs her teacher, a constant in her life, to be strong for her.
She doesn’t know what I’ve done. I saved her from one danger but put her in another. My heart aches for a little girl I’ve barely met and the unfairness of the world she lives in.
Maybe, by the grace of God, we’ll be saved. In the unlikely event an agreement is reached, then the final acts to bind the families are a wedding to join the families as one and two funerals, where we’ll place our dead in each other’s cemeteries.
D’Medici or Cavanagh, both families believe in one covenant: you don’t kill your family if they haven’t betrayed you first.
Calling the truce is not a betrayal, no matter how Gregorio chooses to see it. We are safe from death until the negotiations are rejected. But after that...
“God, forgive me for what I’ve done,” I whisper. It’s been a while since I’ve prayed, but now is as good a time as any. “Shield her from harm.”
I’ve basically walked myself right into the arranged marriage I’ve fought so hard against. It’ll be no surprise when my family offers me at the negotiation table. They don’t want someone ‘weak’ or, as I’m sure it’ll be spun, ‘uncontrollable’ in their ranks. And no matter how much we’ll have become ‘one family’ because of the truce, their opinion of me will be set in stone.
Taking a deep breath, I turn toward the cubbies stacked two high along the wall beside my classroom. The one closest to my room has a bright red scarf hanging out of the basket. I pull it out and wrap it around the gun.
Kerrianne may be a Cavanagh, but that doesn’t mean she’s used to seeing guns every day. Not out of a holster and certainlynot in the hand of her teacher, no matter how natural it is for me.
I leave the door ajar so I can better hear if someone approaches. Their footsteps should echo in the hallway before they ever get to my room.
The scarf-clad gun comes with me, and I set it on the closest chair, hidden from the play area by my desk. Then, cross-legged on the ground with Kerrianne, I engage in play the best I can. Thank God she doesn’t ask questions. She’s more excited to get to play with the newest classroom toy.
Not even ten minutes later, a mix of footsteps echoes down the hallway. A pair of heels, a pair of loafers, and at least two pairs of combat boots. I reach for the scarf-covered gun, resting my hand on it, ready to pull it out if it’s more of the D’Medici family rather than the Cavanaghs. I wouldn’t put it past my uncle to bring one of my aunts to talk sense into me.
But in walks a guard I don’t recognize, gun drawn but held low at his side. He must not see the bundle concealing my weapon because he holsters his before waving in the rest of the people.
Ian Cavanagh walks through the door first, followed by his wife, Elizabeth. I’ve only ever seen them in pictures as targets and adversaries.
They’re so lifelike and human. Especially when Elizabeth’s hand goes to her chest. Her words are pinched and breathy. “Kelsey, there you are.”
Kerrianne screams in excitement while running toward her. “Grandma!”
But her relief is in contrast to Ian Cavanagh’s speculative gaze toward me and the heavy hesitation in his voice. “Ms. Mancini, is it?”
I nod, moving to stand now that Kerrianne has rushed to her grandparents’ side. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Grandma, is Daddy home yet?” Kerrianne stage-whispers while trying not to speak when the grownups are.
The guards with them eye me suspiciously, and Ian Cavanagh rakes his eyes down my body.
Elizabeth steals careful glances at me while assuring Kerrianne that her father will be home soon.
A powder keg of uncertainty, hesitation, and disbelief is primed and ready to blow. I’m outnumbered, and maybe Berto was right.
Maybe they won’t respect the truce. Maybe I’m not safe after all and this is how I die. There is a chance, though, that they don’t know it’s a pseudonym. It’s possible Gregorio hasn’t called them yet. Maybe he never plans to.
Part of me wishes I’d pulled the gun to show that I won’t go down without a fight.
