Page 125 of The Viper's Wife

I swallow. My feet pull me forward like a rusty automaton, the buildings around us fading away into nothing. That word again. Legacy. Mamma said the same thing.

“You’re his son, too. Why can’t you be hislegacy?”

“We both are,” he says simply.

I stop. Salvatore faces me.

Two brothers. Two empires.

That’s what Father wants. My rightful place as don in New York with Don Salvatore in Chicago. Strength and prosperity, and death to all who oppose the Matassa name.

Certainty settles into my bones, clarity in my veins as I finally understand Father’s game.

His legacy, purchased for an inconsequential cost—the life of an outcast woman and her unborn child—for a lifetime of his aimless son’s directed fury. And if I focus that rage at him after I murder the Russians? It’s the gamble of a dying old man.

I can’t get Valeria pregnant.

I unfold in the freezing rain, letting it sweep over me likea forced baptism. I can’t keep her. I can’t exist within the Family and keep her safe. It’s a paradox. She was right—about everything.

I finally understand.

“I want to take Valeria away somewhere,” I say. My throat is raw like I’ve swallowed broken glass. “A honeymoon.”

Salvatore’s eyes—amber like mine, like our Father’s—gleam with interest. “And after?”

“She doesn’t belong in our world. She’s too good.”

“I’ll give you a week.”

Valeria’sin the bathroom when I get home. I pace in the kitchen, ribs stabbing into my side, a restless energy coursing through me.

My present sits next to a bouquet of tulips on the kitchen table.

I exhale deeply and wince at the hot poker of pain in my side.

I want her to like it. I want her to love it.

“Nico.” She freezes in the bedroom doorway. “You’re home early.”

Dark circles line her eyes. Her hair is pinned from her face with sprinkles of black pins. She’s wearing the same black hoodie and sweatpants as yesterday. She wipes at her mouth self-consciously like she’s just finished brushing her teeth.

“I should’ve called.” I say. Every inhale hurts.

“It’s okay. I just woke up anyway.” She walks past the bouquet and straight to me, surprising me with a gentle embrace. As her arms circle my waist and her body meltsinto mine, I drop my face to her neck and inhale deeply, wishing I could paint the inside of my lungs with her scent.

I wish I could bottle up every part of what makes her special and hoard it inside me for the rest of my life.

“I have a present for you,” I murmur.

“The flowers? They’re nice,” she says against my chest.

“There’s something underneath them.”

Valeria turns in my arms and spots the two strips of paper on top of the kitchen table.

She walks over to them and picks one up, her eyes growing wide when she sees what’s printed on it. “A trip to Hawaii? It says the flight is for tomorrow.” She turns toward me. “How can you manage this? Aren’t you working for Don Salvatore?”

“He said I’m useless with a broken rib,” I lie, “and after the drive-by, it would be good to get out of the city for a little bit. It’s only for a week, but I thought we could celebrate a sort of early honeymoon. Do you want to go?”