Page 40 of Broken Mafia Bride
I know it’s useless the second I see the blade buried deep in Gino’s side.
Too deep. Too precise.
It hit the kidney.
In the underground fighting ring, I’ve sent grown men to their knees with one clean strike to that spot. I’ve watched blood leak like water from a cracked pipe, seen the light drain from their eyes as their body gave out. I know what a fatal blow looks like—and this one is textbook.
Gino stumbles back, clutching his side as crimson blooms across his shirt like spreading ink. His mouth opens in a silent gasp, like his body hasn’t caught up to the pain yet. Then he collapses.
“Gino!” I drop to my knees beside him, hands already slick with blood as I press down, uselessly trying to stem the tide. It gushes out between my fingers, hot and terrifyingly fast. “Stay with me. Fuck, stay with me.”
His eyes lock onto mine—wide, wild, terrified. But there’s something else there too. He knows.
I can see it in the way his body shudders, already beginning to go slack. In the shallow rattle of his breath. In the way his lips try to move, but no words come.
Panic claws at my chest.
“Matteo! Call someone!” I yell, though I already hear the frantic voices, the scuffle of feet, the barked orders. Someone’sdialing. Someone’s shouting for help. But it’s all white noise. None of it matters.
Because help won’t get here in time.
I know that too.
I press harder. Useless. Blood keeps coming. Too much. His shirt is soaked, my hands shaking, and still—it won’t stop. His pupils dilate as I cradle his head, breath stuttering, rage boiling beneath my skin like lava.
And in that moment, something breaks.
I lean close, my voice a raw whisper. “You’re not dying for nothing, Gino. I swear to you, I’ll fix this. I’ll end this war. I’ll make sure your wife and kids are protected, even if it costs me everything. I can’t save you… But I can save them.”
His lips twitch.
Then nothing.
No breath. No movement. Just the silence after a storm.
I sit there, soaked in his blood, surrounded by screams and sirens, and all I can think is—this didn’t have to happen. This could’ve been stopped.
And maybe the only way to stop the next one…
…is to become the man I’ve been avoiding all along.
13
GIULIA
The morning is already off to a chaotic start—steam hissing from the iron, crumbs still on the table, and my nerves stretched taut like a violin string.
“Have you seen my wallet?” Marco calls out from the bedroom. I can hear him rifling through his luggage.
“Have you checked on top of the fridge?” I call back while hurriedly ironing Noemi’s dress.
A soft knock rattles the back window. I pause, iron hovering mid-stroke.
Probably just a bird or the wind, but something about the sharp, deliberate tap raises the hairs on my arms. I glance out, but the glass reflects nothing but my face.
For some reason, my daughter refuses to wear anything that isn’t pressed to perfection. She must get it from Raffaele, who likes to be the picture of control.
Behind me, I hear Marco making his way to the kitchen. “Found it, thanks.”
