Page 64 of Brutal Union
"All this time," she whispers, "I've been fucking my mother's killer."
She stands slowly, mechanically, water streaming off the blue dress that clings to her like running ink. My body leans toward her automatically, and I see her sway slightly before catching herself. Even now, even with everything broken between us, that magnetic pull remains.
From her coat pocket, she pulls out more papers. Legal documents. The letterhead of a law firm visible through the rain.
"Liam had these prepared while they had me," she says, her voice hollow. "Divorce papers."
"You're not thinking clearly…"
"Sign them."
"Valentina…"
"SIGN. THEM." Her voice breaks completely, raw grief tearing through that dead calm. "I'm standing on my mother's grave, covered in blood, because of your family. Because of what you are. What you've made me."
She shoves the papers at my chest, and I catch them automatically. The pages are already wet, rain blurring some of the text, but I can see what they are. Dissolution of marriage. Citing irreconcilable differences. Already notarized, just needing my signature.
"This is trauma talking," I try, even as something fundamental breaks in my chest. "They have Alice. You're not…"
"This is clarity." She wraps her arms around herself, shaking from cold or shock or both. "For the first time since you took me from that altar, I see everything clearly. I can't be with her killers, Marco. I can't look at you without seeing her death."
"You're still wearing my marks. Still smell like me. That won't wash off with rain."
"No," she says quietly. "But I can try."
The rain continues its steady assault, turning the divorce papers transparent in my hands. The ink will smear. The signature might not even be legal. But looking at her, my wife,my obsession, standing broken on her mother's grave, I know I've lost her.
My hand moves to my weapon first, instinct to eliminate the threat rather than accept it. But looking at her, broken on her mother's grave because of what my family did… The pen weighs more than my gun ever has.
The pen hovers over the signature line, and I see her yesterday: legs wrapped around my waist, promising she'd never leave, that we were partners. Twenty-four hours. That promise lasted twenty-four fucking hours.
Each letter of my signature tears something inside me, but I force my hand steady. She deserves this choice, even if it destroys us both. Something ruptures in my chest, actual, physical pain like a rib cracking inward. I've been shot four times in my life, and this hurts worse. My vision grays at the edges, and for the first time since I was a kid, I have to lock my knees to stay standing.
"You're free," I say, handing them back.
She takes them, clutching them like salvation, water dripping from the ruined pages.
"I always was." Her voice is quiet now, certain. "I just forgot."
She turns toward the cemetery exit, each step deliberate, careful, like she's learning to walk again. At the gate, she stops but doesn't look back.
"They want me to marry Liam." The words float back through the rain. "To honor the original agreement. Your theft dishonored them. My father's contracts still need fulfilling."
My hand moves to my weapon. "If you do that…"
"What?" Now she does turn, and there's something like pity in her eyes. "You'll kill him? Start a war? You already did that, Marco. People are already dying. Dante already paid the price for our games."
She's right. Every move I make spreads more blood across Chicago's streets. Every dead Irish soldier has brothers, fathers, sons who'll want vengeance. The cycle I've perpetuated since I became Don at twenty-five.
"I won't let them have you," I say, but the words sound hollow even to me.
"You already did." She turns back toward the exit. "The moment your father paid for that murder, you lost any claim to me. We were over before we began."
She walks through the cemetery gates and disappears into the rain. I don't follow. Can't follow. My cock is still hard, fucking traitor, even as my chest caves in. This is what she's reduced me to: a man who gets hard watching his world end, who wants to fuck away the pain of losing the only thing that mattered.
My brothers stand among the bodies, waiting for orders.
"Boss?" Luca asks, his voice unusually serious. "Want us to bring her back?"
