Page 43 of The Mafia Bloodline
“Nothing,” I repeated bitterly. “That’s not good enough.”
Roman gave a humourless smile. “No it’s not.”
“I sound like a man who almost lost his mate.”
He didn’t argue. Just nodded slowly. “She’s strong. More than you think. You’ll drive yourself insane if you keep expecting to fail her.”
“She got sick,” I said flatly. “She’s been in danger since the moment she met me. And I…”
“Would die before you let it happen again,” Roman finished for me. “I know. I’ve been there. We all have. But listen to me, Volken…”
He stepped closer, his tone firm. “You can’t fight every war at once. Keep her safe, yes. But don’t let that turn into a cage. She’ll start fighting you before she fights the enemy.”
A low growl escaped before I could stop it. “I don’t care if she hates me, Roman. As long as she’s breathing.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You think Layla didn’t say the same thing to me?”
That gave me pause.
Roman sighed, raking a hand through his dark hair. “You’ll learn. The more you love them, the harder it is to hold them, but the harder it is to let them go, too. You can’t win both. So, pick the one that keeps her alive.”
I looked back at Runa, the lump in my throat thick and immovable. “Alive,” I whispered. “Always.”
A silence settled between us, thick but not uncomfortable. The kind that only existed between brothers who had seen too much, survived too much, and still kept moving forward.
Roman clapped a hand on my shoulder before turning. “We meet in an hour. Viking thinks he’s found a lead on Caesar’s new supplier, someone funnelling silver and weapons through the country. If it’s true, we move at nightfall.”
“Good,” I said. “I need something to kill.”
Roman’s mouth curved faintly, not a smile, but close enough. “Try not to bring the city down with you.”
When he left, the silence returned, thicker now. I turned back to enter the room and be with Runa, her body curled slightly toward where I’d been sitting.
I sank to one knee beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“You’re safe,” I murmured. “As long as I breathe, you’re safe.”
Her lips parted slightly, her voice a sleepy whisper. “You’re talking to me again, aren’t you?”
I froze.
Her eyes opened…hazy, soft, glowing faintly in the moonlight. “You never stop,” she mumbled, a faint smile tugging her lips. “You always talk when you think I can’t hear you.”
Caught. A rare smile cracked through my tension. “Maybe I like the sound of my own voice.”
“Maybe,” she teased, half-asleep, “you’re just scared.” That hit too close to home.
I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You have no idea.”
Her hand reached out blindly, finding my wrist. “Don’t go.”
“I have to,” I whispered. “Just for a while.” Her fingers tightened, fragile but fierce. “Then come back.”
“I always do.”
She didn’t reply, already fading back into sleep, her hand still gripping mine. I stayed there until her breathing deepened again, the storm in my chest easing with every exhale.
Then I stood, leaving her wrapped in the dim light, my vow burning in my blood.
