Page 511 of Rosetti Family New York
His anger validates feelings I hadn't known I was allowed to have. "We cleared his debt, gave him freedom to choose us freely, and THIS is how he repays it? By treating our family like we're the threat?"
"Leo," Eleanor warns gently.
"No, he's right," I say, something new stirring in my chest. "Van's forty pounds of trauma in a thirty-five-year-old body, and he thinks that gives him authority over my choices. But I've BEEN in his darkness. His nightmares, his broken pieces, his PTSD episodes. I chose to stay anyway. We worked through this fear together."
Leo's grin turns vicious with family pride. "Now you're talking like a Rosetti. If he can't handle what you are, he doesn't deserve who you are."
The steel underneath my outward nature finally surfaces, inherited from generations of those who learned to rule through respect rather than fear. Van is reverting to the same fears we'd supposedly resolved, making the same decision to send me away that contradicts our mutual commitment.
Standing in the library where family decisions get made, I feel something fundamental shift inside me. The words that come out of my mouth surprise everyone in the room, including me.
"This is where Van made his mistake." My voice carries something new. Not the optimism that's always defined me, but something harder. Something inherited. "He thinks he's protecting me from shadows, but I've been living in shadows.His nightmares, his trauma, his broken pieces. I chose to stay anyway. We both said we were choosing all of it."
Dom leans back in his chair, watching me with new interest.
"I'm not the same person who ran to Chicago all those weeks ago," I continue, authority flowing through my voice like it's always been there. "Van knows exactly what our family does. He's always known about the operations, the territories, the violence. He told me so himself. But he's still treating me like some fragile princess who needs protecting from the big bad world. But I'm a Rosetti. I was born into darkness and chose to find the light anyway."
The room goes quiet except for the soft tick of the antique clock.
"I want him back," I declare. "Not because he owes us. His debt is clear. But because I love him. And not because family arranges it, but because I choose it. If Van wants to make decisions about MY life, he needs to understand that means accepting ALL of who I am, including the family that will kill to protect me."
When I turn to face Dom directly, my voice carries unmistakable command. "I want full family backing to get him back. But this time it's my choice, my mission."
Dom's smile is pure Rosetti pride. "Now that's the sister I've been waiting to meet."
The intelligence arrives at midnight through Milo's surveillance channels.
"The Torrino family is mobilizing," he reports. "Van's location in Chicago has been compromised. They're planning to grab him within the next six hours. Full assault team already in position."
My first thought surprises me with its viciousness:Good.
Let him see what happens when you send away the only real protection you had. Let him understand what it means to reject the Rosetti shield. Maybe getting roughed up by the Torrinos will teach him that his surgical precision and military training mean nothing against organized crime without our backing.
The satisfaction lasts exactly three seconds.
Then panic crashes through me like ice water, because that's MY idiot about to get grabbed. Mine to be furious at. Mine to rage against. Mine to make understand exactly what he threw away when he sent me back here like damaged goods that needed returning.
"No," I say out loud, surprising everyone including myself. "They don't get to touch him."
Leo raises an eyebrow. "Thought you were mad at him?"
"I am. Furious." My hands curl into fists. "But he's mine to be furious at. The Torrinos don't get to hurt him. That's my job. After I save his presumptuous ass."
Something dangerous flickers across Dom's face—approval mixed with amusement. "And how exactly are you planning to do that?"
"First, I'm going to stop them from taking him," I say, already reaching for my phone. "Then I'm going to drag him back here and make him understand exactly what he gave up. The protection, the family, me—all of it. He needs to see what he almost lost by trying to be noble."
My fingers fly across the screen, finding Van's number. Each ring echoes in the quiet library like a countdown.
Ring.
Of course he's not answering. Probably doing something noble and stupid, like surgery or brooding.
Ring.
Maybe he's looking at the empty space where I used to make coffee, telling himself the ache in his chest is worth my supposed safety.
Ring.
