Chapter Six

Domani

By the time we make it back to the house, Finley is exhausted. I carry her straight to the bedroom, laying her out in the bed. She immediately curls up with my pillow, her eyes fluttering.

"Sleep, mio sole. I'll keep watch."

"'Kay," she whispers.

Within minutes, she's out.

I cover her up and stand over her, just watching her sleep. My goddamn heart feels like it's lodged in my throat. Is it possible to fall in love this fast? Once upon a time, I would have said absolutely not. But I've seen love strike like lightning a few too many times to discount it so readily now. There is no rhyme or reason to matters of the heart. Sometimes, you meet your person, and you just know. Other times, love sneaks up on you slowly. Your person is the last one you expected or the one who has been there all along. There is no one way or no right way. There's just love.

I feel it now, rushing through every chamber of my heart. There's so fucking much of it. Cristo. It's like an endless wave knocking me down again and again and again. My heart is hers. For as long as it beats, it'll be hers.

I have to find a way to keep it beating.

Fuck, I have to find a way.

I slip out of the room, heading for the office down the hall. I leave the door open as I slip inside, settling behind the desk. It's been a while since I was last here. This place has always felt a little bit like living in exile for me. I don't come unless I have no choice. I'm used to the concrete jungle. It's what I know. It's where I thrive. I've spent my entire life in Chicago, learning every nook and cranny. But today, this place feels a little like paradise, and Chicago feels like the great unknown. It's an odd shift.

I grab my burner from the desk and power it on. Within seconds, dozens of missed calls and texts begin to filter in. I skim the texts, but they're of the same variety I had this morning. Only, Mattia has enlisted help in trying to talk sense into me this time.

Coda: You need to come back, brother. We can handle this as a family.

Diego: JFC, Domani. Are you trying to start a war? Get your ass back here before we have to tell Rafe about this.

Mattia: You're really beginning to piss me off. Answer the fucking phone.

Forty-five minutes ago, Rafe texted.

Rafe: His fucking niece? You're with his fucking niece?? If you haven't called me back with an hour, I'm sending Coda after you.

Cazzo. Coda is my closest friend. He's also the only other hitman on Rafe's payroll. The man knows everything there is to know about the mafia. And he's more dangerous than me by far. But loyalty matters to Coda, and we've been ride or die for years. If Rafe sends him to deal with me, it'll fuck him up in a major way. Rafe knows it, the bastard. And he knows I know it. He's counting on that fact forcing my hand.

I dial his number, cursing him under my breath. Rafe has always been a ruthless, savage motherfucker. He knows exactly where to hit to make it hurt. And he always knows exactly when to strike. It's precisely why we've always gotten along so well. He's a good man…but he can be a downright son of a bitch when he needs to be.

"You kidnapped his fucking niece," he roars as soon as he answers the phone. Rafe doesn't yell often. The fact that he's yelling now means he's more than pissed. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I didn't kidnap anyone. She's where she wants to be."

"You strolled out of his goddamn house with a mask over your face and his sleeping niece in your arms," he says. "That's the definition of kidnapping, Brambilla."

"Did you ask him if she was in that house of her own free will?" I ask. "Because I've seen the rope burns on her wrists. And I know how long it's been since she last stepped foot outside. One year, nine months, eighteen days."

"Cazzo. You're saying he had her tied up?"

"Not last night," I admit. "But yeah, often enough to leave permanent scars on her wrists."

"Mafankulo." If there's one thing Rafe and I have always agreed on, it's that motherfuckers who abuse women don't have a place in this world. They aren't pawns or bartering chips. We're meant to protect and provide, not to terrorize and victimize. Especially not a principessa. Irish blood may run in her veins instead of Italian, but she was still born into this life. In his eyes, that makes her princess enough.

"This isn't your fight, Rafe. It's mine. I put the mask on to keep you and the family out of it."

"Yeah, well, you should have checked for cameras in her fucking room," he mutters. "They know exactly who took her. Cillian is demanding a sit-down."

"He had cameras in her room?" I growl, my blood boiling. Cazzo. She had no privacy? No escape? Every new thing I learn about Cillian Brennan simply adds one more item to the list of reasons he's going to die by my hand.

"You know that's not our problem," Rafe says quietly. "We stay out of Irish business, and they stay out of ours."

"Yeah, well, you may want to rethink that," I snap, losing my temper with him for the first time in a long time. "The only reason he's in Chicago is because of you. They sent him to take what they haven't been able to get any other way."

"What are you talking about?"

"They wanted a piece of Chicago, and they sent him to pry it from your grasp," I say. "Our plan to have them deal with him? Doesn't fucking matter. According to Finley, his people in Boston know he's skimming off the top and working deals behind their backs. They don't care because he's built a base of power in Chicago. He's become a threat. To you. They're willing to tolerate a lot for that prize."

Rafe mutters a curse.

"So from where I'm sitting, it looks like he has to die either way, Rafe. You can send the family after me for going off-script; that's fine. You do what you have to do. But I'm going to do what I have to do, too."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means I'm going to hunt him down like a fucking dog and end his miserable life. And then I'm going to pick his sons off one by one until the weakest remains. If he agrees to my terms, I'll let him live. If he doesn't, he'll die too. But I'm not giving Finley back to Cillian. Hell will freeze over before I send her back to anyone in that house," I growl, meaning every word. "And if our family gets in my way or tries to stop me, I'll do whatever it takes to protect her."

"You'd choose her over your family? Over your oaths?"

"Yes. And you'd choose Amalia the same way. We both know you would." We both know he did. When it was him, he handed her every shred of evidence she needed to bury him and every single one of us and then sat and waited for the world to burn down around us. The only reason it didn't is because she chose him too.

"Cristo, Domani. It didn't have to come to this."

"It did," I say.

"You could have come to me!"

"Had I come to you, would you have helped her? Or would you have sent her back to try to avoid a war?"

He doesn't say anything. He can't.

"My shit can't be your shit when you have the whole goddamn organization to consider, Rafe," I say quietly. "You would have done what you had to do. And I did what I had to do."

"Goddammit, Domani," he growls, his voice rough with emotion I've never heard from him before. This is killing him. I know it is. But I made my choice. It's Finley. And Rafe has no choice but to make his. I don't fault him for it. I can't. If I were in his shoes, I'd make the same goddamn one. That's the price of being the capo. That's what it means to lead.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

"Don't send Coda," I say. "I don't care who else you send after me, but don't send him."

Rafe sighs…and then disconnects.

I drop my phone on the desk, scrubbing my hands down my face.

That was exactly as hard as I thought it'd be. But I wouldn't do it differently.

My choice was made before I ever carried Finley out of her room. It was her. It'll always be her.