Page 149 of Rosetti Family New York
Matteo flips a coin, watching me with curiosity. "I hope you’re not afraid of guns," he says, patting his hip.
There’s a beat of silence, and then Rafe uncrosses his arms. "Or how pissed off we are."
"Rafe," Dom warns, and there’s an edge to it.
I know my husband will protect me, even against his own brothers.
I meet Rafe's ice-blue gaze, unflinching. "You should be angry. All of you."
Sal gestures for us to sit, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. I take a seat, my back straight, my resolve firm.
“I’m not going to waste your time,” I say. My voice echoes more than I expect in this glass coffin of a room. “You all know what I did.”
Rafe’s jaw tics. Sal’s eyes narrow, just a hair.
“I was sent here to infiltrate you,” I continue. “And I did. I passed along information to my father. I helped cause the raid that destroyed your warehouse. I undermined your empire.”
Silence.
The kind that isn’t just quiet, it’sheavy.
“But I also chose to stop. I chose to walk away from my father. And when the moment came—”
I lift my chin.
“I pointed a gun at my father. Not at any of you.”
Matteo exhales through his nose.
“I can’t undo what I did,” I say. “But I came to take responsibility for it. You don’t have to like me. You don’t have to trust me.”
I glance around the table, forcing myself to meet each of their eyes.
“But if you’re going to kill me, do it quick. I’d rather die on my feet than rot in guilt.”
For a moment, no one moves.
Then Leo mutters, “Shit,” and drops into a chair like the weight finally hit him. “She’s got more spine than half the people we’ve paid to protect us.”
Rafe straightens off the wall, arms still crossed. His expression hasn’t softened, but he speaks.
“You betrayed us,” he says, calm as a blade. “But you also saved our lives.”
Sal clears his throat. Still regal. Still iron.
“You chose the Rosettis,” he says. “And we don’t forget loyalty.”
A long pause.
“Nor betrayal,” he adds. “But...”
He glances at Dom, then back at me.
“A gun speaks louder than good intentions. And you aimed yours at the right man.”
The tension breaks—just slightly. Enough to let oxygen back into the room.
“So what now?” I ask.
