Page 329 of Rosetti Family New York
"Yes." Emilio's face turns deadly calm, recognizing the harm Chase has caused. "And he's going to pay for that in unimaginable ways."
"I want him to suffer." I'm surprised by how strong my anger is, burning everything else away until only the need for revenge remains. "I want him to feel what it's like to lose everything he cares about and be powerless to stop it."
"He will." Emilio's promise is as heavy as a winter storm and full of calculated violence. "Chase is going to learn what happens when he manipulates a Rosetti's woman. He'll beg for death long before I grant it."
When he kisses me, it tastes of salt, anger, and promises sealed in blood. His mouth captures mine with desperate hunger, and I respond with the need of someone who has been drowning in secrets and is finally being rescued.
"I'm sorry," I whisper softly against his lips as we pull apart. "For leaving you. For working with your enemies. For trying to face this alone when I should have trusted you to help me find another way."
"You're here now." He presses his forehead against mine, sharing the close space between us. "You're safe, you're mine, and we'll honor Sarah's memory by dealing with the monster who dared use it against you."
The truth is out. Sarah is gone. Chase has been using her memory to control me, and I've been free to choose love over fear for eight months without knowing it. The grief is overwhelming, but beneath it burns the realization that I'm not alone with this burden anymore.
I have a partner now. An equal. A man whose love is strong enough to turn emotional manipulation into a mistake, whose resources are vast enough to make vengeance an art.
22
Mara
The truth settles heavily within me. I wake up tangled in silk sheets, with the dawn light coming through windows that have turned clear on their own. The room smells of sex and sweat and us.
Emilio's arm is wrapped around my waist, his breathing deep and steady against my neck. I can feel his heartbeat against my back, strong and sure. The rough hair on his chest scratches my skin, and I catch a whiff of cologne mixed with sweat. For the first time in years, I slept without nightmares, without waking every few hours to check locks and exits, without the constant alertness that kept me alive but slowly wore me down.
I've told him everything about Sarah, about Chase's cruel manipulation, about serving Callahan, thinking I was protecting her. The burden of those secrets had been crushing me, and now their absence makes me feel almost weightless, free in a way that feels risky. Even with Sarah's death, I feel liberated.
But it's more than just relief. For eight months, I carried guilt that wasn't mine, believing Sarah needed my protection when she was already gone. I'd given up my own happiness to servea lie, and Emilio had put up with my absence while I fought a battle that was already lost. We had both been grieving different losses, not knowing we were on the same side.
Emilio stirs behind me, his hand sliding up my side to cup my breast. His thumb finds the sensitive spot, and I lean into his touch. Even half-asleep, he touches me with urgency, his body remembering the pain of separation, making every touch urgent with the need to know I'm real.
"You're thinking too loudly," he murmurs against my shoulder, his lips brushing my skin with careful precision. "I can almost hear your mind working."
"Just processing," I admit, leaning into his touch as his thumb finds my nipple, tracing circles with an easy skill that sends warmth pooling between my thighs. That simple touch makes every nerve in my body tingle with awareness of his closeness, his warmth, and the way his breathing changes as he feels my reaction. "Eight months of freedom I didn't realize I had can't just vanish overnight."
"Freedom?" His voice sharpens, alert to any threat to my wellbeing, even emotional ones.
I turn in his arms to face him, and the morning light reveals changes hidden by the dark, shadows under his eyes from sleepless nights, new lines from relentless searching, and a hardness in his face that wasn't there before I left. His jaw is rough with morning stubble I want to feel on my skin, and there's a new scar on his temple, proof of violence he endured without me. But beyond these changes, his eyes still hold the same intense look that made me fall for him, gray depths that see too much, know too much, forgive too much.
"I left you," I whisper, the words scraping my throat. "I walked away from everything we had to protect someone I couldn't save, while you searched for me across continents. I made you think you weren't enough, that what we had wasn't worth saving."
"You protected your family," he corrects, his fingers gently tracing my jaw, making my chest tighten with emotion. "You gave up everything, your safety, your happiness, your future, out of love and what you knew at the time. That Sarah couldn't be saved doesn't lessen what you were willing to do for her."
Tears blur my eyes, eight months of misplaced grief pouring out. They are hot and unstoppable. I taste salt on my lips as they fall, and my throat feels raw, making every word painful.
"I missed you," I whisper, the confession coming from deep within me, where I've kept it hidden, too dangerous to admit even to myself. "Every day, every night, every moment I was with Chase, I missed you so much it felt like dying."
His expression softens, vulnerability showing through his usual control. The Ghost facade falls away, leaving only the man who loved me, who still loves me, completely.
"Christ, Mara. Do you know what it did to me when you vanished? I came home to an empty apartment, empty bed, empty life. Your coffee cup was still in the sink, your scent on the pillowcase, your book on the nightstand, everything just as you left it. No note, no explanation, no hint of where you'd gone or why. Just... gone."
His voice breaks on the last word, and suddenly I see the man beneath the tough exterior, the one who loved me fully, trusted me completely, built a future with me that I shattered in one night of desperate sacrifice.
"I thought I'd done something wrong," he goes on, wiping away my tears with his thumb. "Thought I'd failed you somehow, wasn't enough to make you stay. For months, I went over every conversation we had, every moment we shared, searching for the flaw, the reason you decided I wasn't worth staying for."
"You were everything," I say softly, my voice carrying eight months of truth. "You were worth sacrificing my happiness,my freedom, my future. I became what I never wanted to be—Chase's weapon against the man I loved."
We're both crying now, tears of relief, regret, and the realization of a love that survived betrayal, separation, and attempts to destroy it. The morning light catches the salty paths on his cheeks.
I realize I've never seen him cry before. The Ghost always keeps his emotions in check, never showing weakness or losing control. But for me, he's willing to be vulnerable.
