Page 101 of Daddies of the Underworld

We were on the mend. It would not happen overnight, but after weeks, then months, we healed.

Dante lived, which the doctor later claimed was a miracle by itself. He also became the most annoying patient anyone had ever endured because he pushed every single boundary they put in front of him.

Marco survived too. I’d visited him a few times during Dante’s recovery, and when he left the hospital wing, he was given free roam of the house. Even freedom to leave, which he rejected.

I found him one afternoon on the terrace, walking with a cane and swearing after every step. His shirt hung loose, and he’d lost even more weight than I thought possible, but his eyes were clear.

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

He huffed. “I’m tired of beds.” For a second, my brother smiled like the boy who used to steal extra bread and tell me he had no idea where it had gone. The smile faded, and he tapped the end of the cane on the floor. “I talked to Matteo.”

My stomach tightened. “About what?

“Work.” He leaned both hands on the cane. “Real, legal, work. He has companies that need records cleaned, old accounts sorted. There’s a gap I can fill on the legitimate side.”

“You want to work for Matteo?” I had not seen that one coming.

He tried to shrug, but years with a dislocated shoulder made the motion stiff. “I want to fix things. I want to be here for you and Sofia. I can’t make up for what I did, but I’d like to stick around. Unless you would rather I leave?”

“No.” I let the softness of my answer linger before I gave him a gentle hug. “I want you to stay alive and not get shot again. I want my brother back, my real brother.”

His eyes filled before he turned his head. “I can do that.”

Life did not become safe because Viktor was dead. That would have been too easy, but things were changing.

One month after Dante opened his eyes, we ate dinner outside under the courtyard lights. Sofia wore purple bows in her hair to celebrate, somehow already had sauce on her chin, and all three of her fathers were so completely wrapped around her little finger that two ponies had arrived this morning.

Marco laughed from the far end of the table when Sofia flicked the end of a breadstick in his direction.

“Here.” She tossed a second one. “Catch, Uncle Scarecrow.”

He leaned back far enough for the bite of bread to land in his mouth, then winced and rested a hand against his side.

Matteo’s hand found mine beneath the table, while Luca’s knee pressed against my leg. Dante grinned at Sofia, then at me. For years, I hadn’t known how to survive without an exit strategy. There might be times when I needed them again, but not right now.

Sitting here at the table with the people I loved, I stopped worrying about how I’d get away and focused on the idea that staying no longer felt like a risk.

We were home.

EPILOGUE:NINA

Matteo had Sofia in check until she stole his queen from the chessboard. She reached across the board when he turned to answer Dante and plucked the queen off the square, setting it beside her cookie plate with a snigger.

When Matteo looked back, she folded both hands in her lap and smiled.

Dante saw what she’d done and smirked.

Luca leaned back in his chair, hands laced behind his head. “Careful, Princess Unicorn. He has executed men for less.”

I whacked his shoulder with the back of my hand. “Can you not?”

“Daddy won’t execute me.” She picked up her cookie and bit out a giant chunk.

“No.” Matteo tapped his finger against the square where his queen had been. “But he would like an explanation.”

“She was tired.” Sofia took another bite, her voice a sing-song. “So tired.”

“My queen?”