Chapter 7 - The Sunrise Over BlackwoodSix months later.
The morning sun rose over the New York harbor, painting the sky in brilliant shades of gold, rose, and amber. The storm of the past had cleared, leaving behind a world that felt clean, sharp, and entirely reborn.
The courtyard of Blackwood Estate was alive with white roses, string lights, and the soft strains of a classical string quartet playing beneath a grand white marquee.
There were no hit squads, no federal investigators, no whispering traitors, and no cold syndicate bosses. Just a hundred close friends, trusted associates, and people who had learned the true meaning of loyalty.
Vanessa Luciano was serving a life sentence in a federal maximum-security penitentiary for conspiracy to commit murder, her father’s syndicate having wisely retreated to Philadelphia to lick its wounds and sign a permanent non-aggression pact with the Moreno family.
And in the master suite overlooking the sprawling estate, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing down the front of a custom-designed, off-the-shoulder ivory lace wedding gown.
The door opened quietly.
Dante stepped inside, wearing a classic black tuxedo, his dark hair neatly combed, the scar near his cheek faint and barely visible against his tanned skin. He stopped dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at me through the mirror.
“Cara,” he whispered, crossing the room in two long strides.
He didn't care about the dress, or the hair, or the traditions. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, pulling me flush against his chest, burying his face in the crook of my neck.
“Is this legal?” I asked with a soft laugh, resting my hands over his. “Can a mafia boss actually marry a former waitress?”
“In my city, I make the laws,” Dante murmured against my skin, pressing a warm kiss to my shoulder. “And according to my laws, I intend to spend the next eighty years reminding you every single day that you are safe, you are cherished, and you are completely free.”
I turned around in his arms, wrapping my hands around his neck, looking up into the dark gray eyes that had once terrified me and now held my entire world.
“No more running?” I teased, a bright smile breaking across my face.
May you like
“Never again,” Dante whispered, pressing his lips softly to mine in a kiss that tasted of morning coffee, endless tomorrows, and absolute salvation. “Only us.”
Outside the grand French doors, the city of New York hummed beneath the golden morning light—vast, beautiful, and completely at peace.
