Page 82 of Forgotten Vows

The same can't be said for Jonathan.

My phone buzzes with a text from Cormac:Got a hit on the phone signal. Tracked it to an old house on the South Side. Sending you the address now.

I'm on my feet before I finish reading the message. "Jack. Get the men. We're moving now."

"Where?"

"South Side. Cormac tracked the phone." I check my gun again, making sure everything is where it should be. "This ends tonight."

The door opens again, and I look up expecting Rian. But it's not Rian. It's Declan.

He's leaning heavily on a crutch, his face pale and drawn, his shirt stained with blood. But his eyes are clear and determined, and whenhe looks at me, I can see the same fire that's always been there. "You're not doing this without me," he says.

"You should be in bed."

"Fuck that." He limps into the office and leans against the wall, abandoning the crutch. "You're going after Gio. You're going to get your family back. And I'm going with you."

"Declan—"

"Don't." He holds up a hand. "You went back for her. You kept your promise. Now let me keep mine. I told you ten years ago that I'd have your back. That hasn't changed."

I look at him for a long moment, seeing the boy I grew up with, the man who's been my friend longer than anyone else. He's bleeding and injured and should be resting, but he’s standing here anyway, because that's what brothers do.

"Alright," I say finally. "But you listen to me when we get there. Don't go being a hero."

"Deal." He grins, and for a moment, he looks younger, like the Declan I remember. "Let's go get your family back."

I gather my men in the lobby. Rian, Jack, Tommy, and Cormac are on the phone coordinating. Declan limps out to join us, and nobody questions it.

"We have an address," I tell them. "South Side. Gio's holding them there. We go in fast, we go in hard, and we don't leave until they're safe and he's dead. Understood?"

They all nod.

"Then let's move."

We pile into the SUVs, engines roaring to life, and head toward Gio.

And this time, I'm not leaving until he's bleeding out on the floor.

21

ADRIANA

The room smells like mildew and rot, and there's a single window, boarded up from the outside, thin strips of gray daylight filtering through the gaps between the planks. I can hear traffic in the distance and the occasional wail of a siren, the sounds of a city that has no idea we're here.

Matteo is pressed against my side, his small body trembling. There's a bruise blooming purple and yellow along his cheekbone where one of Gio's men slapped him, and another on his upper arm in the shape of fingers. His lip is split, dried blood crusted at the corner of his mouth. He hasn't said much since they threw us in here hours ago. He just clings to me with a desperation that breaks my heart.

"Mama," he whispers, his voice hoarse from crying. "When is he coming?"

I know he means Lachlan. "Soon, baby." I smooth his hair back from his forehead, my fingers catching on tangles. "He'll come soon."

"What if he doesn't?" Matteo's eyes are terrified, and I can see the doubt there. The fear that maybe Lachlan won't come at all. That maybe we're not worth the risk.

"He will." I pull him closer. "He promised, remember? He said he'd protect us."

Matteo nods, but I can feel the tension in his small frame, like he's afraid that if he moves too much, something terrible will happen. I've seen this before, back at the estate when Gio would come home in one of his moods. Matteo learned early how to make himself small, how to disappear into the background and hope he wouldn't be noticed.

I hate that he knows how to do that. Hate that I couldn't protect him from learning.