Page 45 of Forgotten Vows

And he's afraid of me.

I don't know how to fix this and make him understand that I'mnot the enemy, that I'm trying to save them both—that everything I've done has been for them. But maybe that's the problem. Maybe I've been so focused on what I want, on what I think they need, that I haven't stopped to consider what they actually want.

Maybe Adriana was right when she said I'm just another man who takes what he wants and calls it protection.

I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find the number for Declan Murphy. We grew up together, back when my father was still alive and working for the Santoros. Declan's the president now, and if anyone knows what happened to Adriana over the past ten years, it's him.

The phone rings three times before he picks up.

"Gallagher." His voice is rough and gravelly, like he's been smoking too much. "Heard you made quite the entrance in New York. Gio's losing his shit."

"Good." I don't have the energy for small talk. "I need information, Dec. About Adriana Santoro."

There's a pause, and I can hear him exhale slowly. "Fuck, man. I was wondering when you'd call about that."

"You knew?" My hand tightens around the phone. "You knew what was happening to her and you didn't?—"

"What was I supposed to do?" His voice is defensive. "She's a Santoro. Gio's sister. You think I could just walk in there and tell him to stop? You think that would have ended well for anyone?"

He's right, and I hate that he's right. "Tell me what you know."

Another pause, longer this time, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter. "It started after Giovanni died. Gio took over, and he decided Adriana needed to be punished further for what happened with you. Giovanni wasn't kind to her—he restricted her movements, kept her on the estate and from having any friends or going anywhere, basically imprisoned her. But Gio seemed to want it to be worse. He couldn't kill her, not when everyone believed the story that she was a victim—I never believed that, by the way—but he could make her life hell."

My stomach turns. "What did he do to her?"

"At first, it was just keeping her locked up. No phone, no internet, no contact with the outside world. Giovanni kept her from having friends, but Gio cut her off even more. She had the kid, and Gio let her raise him, but that was it." He stops, and I can hear him lighting a cigarette, the flick of a lighter and the inhale of smoke. "Then it got worse."

"How much worse?"

"He'd make her serve food and drinks at dinner parties, like a servant instead of a Santoro daughter. Then he started threatening to take her son away whenever he thought she'd done something wrong. Send him to a boarding school, or just dump him into the system. It broke her really fast. I didn't see much of it—I heard most of this secondhand from guys who worked in the mansion, but I started seeing a difference in her when I'd catch a glimpse."

My jaw tightens. That rage I felt earlier burns hotter, searing through my veins.

"Then he started promising his guys that if they worked hard, maybe he'd find a way to use her as a reward. He talked with some of his cronies about how he could use it as leverage, maybe videotape her fucking them and then keep them as proof of loyalty. If you fucked Gio's sister and he had it on tape, you weren't going anywhere. You were his."

I'm going to be sick. I'm going to get on a plane, fly back to New York, and put a bullet in Gio's head. I'm going to make him suffer the way he made her suffer, make him beg for mercy the way she must have begged, and then I'm going to kill him slowly and painfully, until there's nothing left.

"As far as I know, that hadn't happened yet. I heard there were some photos of her given to one of the guys as a reward. But he hadn't…" Declan pauses. "I know this is hard to hear. But it was a lot of threats, more than physical damage. I think he did hit her sometimes. And he started threatening to make her son watch violence, or participate in it, once he started getting older. Break him into the family, as it were."

He lets out a long breath. "I'm glad you got her out. I'm glad she'swith you now. If there's anything I can do to help, anything at all, you let me know. She didn't deserve what happened to her. None of it."

"I need you to keep an eye on Gio's movements," I say flatly. "I need to know if he's planning to come after her. If he makes a move toward Chicago, I need to know immediately."

"You got it." He pauses. "For what it's worth, man, she talked about you sometimes. I heard her a couple times, talking to the kid when he was a baby and too young to understand. She never stopped loving you."

The words should comfort me, make me feel like there's hope for us. But all I can think about is what she endured, what was done to her while I was building my empire and telling myself I'd come for her when I was strong enough.

I should have come sooner. I should have burned the Santoro estate to the ground long before I really had the power to do it.

I should have saved her.

"Thanks, Dec." I end the call before he can say anything else, and I sit there in the dark office, staring at nothing.

Finally, I get up and walk to Adriana's room, knocking once before pushing the door open. She's sitting on the bed, her arms wrapped around herself, and she looks up when I come in. There's wariness in her eyes.

"We need to talk." I close the door behind me.

She doesn't move. "If this is about Matteo?—"