Outside, the night air bit at my exposed skin, but Santino’s arms tightened around me like iron bands. Marco was alreadyholding the door of a waiting SUV open. Santino slid into the back seat with me still in his lap, refusing to let go even for a second.
“Drive,” he barked at Marco. His hand never left my stomach. Not once. “Fast.”
The SUV lurched forward. I trembled uncontrollably against him, the cold from the tub still leaching the warmth from my body. Santino cursed under his breath and rubbed slow, firm circles over my belly, as if he could protect the tiny life inside me through sheer force of will.
“You’re safe,” he whispered against my wet hair, voice hoarse. “Both of you. I swear on everything I am, no one is ever taking you from me again.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks, mixing with the water still dripping from my hair. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, for running, for keeping secrets, for not trusting him completely. But all that came out was a broken sob.
By the time we reached the estate, a private doctor was already waiting in our bedroom. Santino carried me straight past the concerned staff and laid me gently on the bed. He didn’t leave my side as the doctor examined me, checking my temperature, my pulse, the bruises on my wrists, the shallow cuts from Sergio’s glass.
“The baby?” Santino’s voice was tight, dangerous.
The doctor nodded after a long, tense ultrasound. “Early stages, but the heartbeat is strong. She’s dehydrated and hypothermic, but with rest and warmth, both mother and child should be fine.”
The relief that crashed over me was so powerful I nearly blacked out. Santino’s hand tightened on mine, his thumb stroking my knuckles as if he needed the contact to stay grounded.
When the doctor finally left, Santino drew a steaming bath in the massive marble tub. He lowered me into it himself, clothes and all, then stripped down and climbed in behind me, pulling my back against his chest. The heat seeped into my frozen limbs as he washed me with careful, reverent hands, nothing like Sergio’s violation. These touches were worship. Possession. Love.
“I was so scared,” I whispered, voice still shaky. “I thought… I thought I’d never see you again. That our baby…”
“Shh.” Santino pressed his lips to my temple, one arm banded across my chest while the other rested protectively over my stomach. “You’re here. You’re both here. That’s all that matters.”
I turned in his arms, needing to see his face. Blood still streaked his cheek and knuckles. His eyes were wild, exhausted, but burning with that fierce, obsessive light I had come to crave.
“I love you,” I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “I’m still terrified of this world. Of what it means to be yours. But I love you, Santino. The devil and the man. All of it.”
For a moment he just stared at me, something raw and vulnerable flickering across his face. Then he kissed me, slow, deep, and devastatingly tender. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
“You’re mine, little troublemaker,” he murmured, voice rough. “And I’m yours. I’d burn the world down again if it meant keeping you safe. Both of you.”
We stayed in the bath until the water cooled, then he carried me to bed and held me like he was afraid I’d disappear. Chiara and Leo came by briefly. My sister cried as she hugged me, apologizing for everything, the wedding, Sergio, pushing me into a life I never wanted. Leo and Santino exchanged a long, silent look. No words were needed. Their fragile alliance had held. For now.
Later, when the house grew quiet, Santino’s hand returned to my stomach. He rubbed slow circles there, whispering promises against my skin.
“Our child will never know fear like you did,” he said softly. “They’ll be safe. Loved. And they’ll know their mother is the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
I covered his hand with mine, finally letting myself believe it.
The devil had stolen me.
But somewhere along the way, I had chosen to stay.
And for the first time since that blood-stained altar, I wasn’t afraid of forever.
We stayed in the bath until the water cooled, then he carried me to bed and held me like he was afraid I’d disappear. Chiara came by briefly with Leo. My sister cried as she hugged me, apologizing for everything, the wedding, Sergio, pushing me into a life I never wanted. I forgave her. We were both just trying to survive this world.
After they left, I lay curled against Santino’s chest, drifting in and out of sleep. But a soft knock at the door pulled me back.
Marco’s voice filtered through. “Leo wants a word.”
Santino kissed my forehead. “Sleep, baby. I’ll be right back.”
I tried to rest, but curiosity and leftover fear kept me awake. I could hear their low voices drifting from the study down the hall. I slipped out of bed, wrapped myself in one of Santino’s robes, and padded quietly to the doorway, listening.
Leo’s voice was rough, exhausted. “We have to get along now. For Chiara. For Aurora. For the children that are coming. This cycle of blood between us ends tonight.”
There was a long silence. Then Santino spoke, and the words shocked me.
