Page 118 of Blood Debt
His arms hold me so tightly I can hardly breathe, but I don’t want to breathe without him. The chain rattles between us, biting into my throat, and I sob into his chest, broken.
Then—his voice, low, rough, trembling in a way I’ve never heard before.
“Serafina.”
The sound of my real name on his lips shatters me. I lift my head slowly, blinking through tears. His eyes—gray steel always—are wet now, soft with a love I don’t deserve. He leans in and presses his mouth to mine. The kiss is gentle, fleeting, but it breaks me more than any cruelty ever could. When he pulls away, I’m gasping for air.
My throat burns, my lips tremble. The truth claws its way out of me, word by word, between sobs.
“My name…is Serafina Lucia Romano.” My chest heaves as I force the rest. “We met in Rome…that night…in the hotel. I didn’t know it would change everything. I found out afterward…I was pregnant.”
His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. I lean into it, desperate and ashamed.
“Bianca… he’s yours, Cristofano. She’s our daughter.” My voice cracks. I taste salt. “I thought—you killed Isla. I thought you were a monster. So I came to your house…undercover. I stole the Black Book. I gave it to Marcello…because I wanted to take you down.”
Every word feels like a knife I drive into him myself. I can’t even look at him when I finish; I drop my gaze, choking on the silence that follows.
But then his hand shifts, both palms cradling my face now, and he forces me to meet his eyes. They’re brimming, glistening. And he smiles—God, he smiles, even through the hurt.
“I know,” he whispers. His voice shakes, but it’s steady in its truth. “I know, Serafina. And I love you.”
I close my eyes, and a sob tears free of me, shaking my whole body. I can’t stop crying, not when I realize that despite everything—the lies, the betrayals, the blood between us—he still looks at me like I am his whole world.
Marcello laughs, the sound sharp as broken glass. His pale eyes gleam as he dangles the key from his gloved fingers like it’s nothing more than a toy. Then, with a mocking bow, he tosses it to Cristofano.
Cristofano catches it, jaw clenched, and his hands are steady even though mine are trembling. He slips the cold metal into the lock at my throat. The chain rattles, loosens, and when it falls away, I gasp at the sudden freedom. Before I can breathe another word, he’s kissing me again—hungry, desperate, like he can claim me back from hell itself.
His hands frame my face, and then—he shifts, the chain dangling from his grip. I realize in horror he’s about to lock it around his own neck. My lips part to stop him—
A gunshot cracks the air. Marcello’s cry tears through the silence as his gun clatters to the floor, his hand bleeding.
I whip my head around. Alessandra. She’s standing in the shadows, pale and swaying, blood soaking her side, but her hand is steady on the pistol.
Chaos explodes. Cristofano lunges at Marcello, steel flashing in his eyes as he drives him back with a roar. “Serafina! Bianca!” His voice slices through the din.
My body jolts into motion. I scramble across the floor, heart hammering. Matteo intercepts guards surging forward, his gun spitting fire, his blade flashing when they get too close.
I see her. My baby. Bianca’s terrified little face in the crowd, her small hands reaching for me. “Mama!”
I scoop her into my arms, clutching her so tightly she squeals, but I can’t loosen my grip. My sobs choke me. “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.”
Isla groans somewhere nearby, her swollen belly heaving. She’s on her knees, her face gray with pain. I drag Bianca with me, crouching beside her. “I’ve got you both—hold on—” I try to lift Isla, but my muscles scream with the weight, panic tearing through me.
And then—pain sears across my back. I hit the ground hard, gasping.
I whip my head around to see Alessandra, her face twisted, eyes wild with rage. She’s still clutching her pistol, but it’s her boot that’s pressed into my spine.
“No!” I scream, scrambling up, but then I see Isla. My heart shreds.
Isla pulls Bianca against her chest with all her strength, wrapping her arms protectively around my daughter, shielding her with her battered body. Bianca’s muffled cries echo against her.
“No, no, no—” My voice breaks as the world collapses into violence around us.
Alessandra presses harder on my back, her voice cracking with venom.
“You’ll never have him! Do you hear me? Cristofano was mine. He was always mine!”
Her words spit like acid. My jaw clenches as her boot digs into my spine, but I don’t waste breath answering. I twist sharply, grabbing at her ankle, and shove with everything in me. She stumbles, hissing in pain as her wound tears open further.
