Chapter 7 - Dawn Over the EstateThe sound of the struggle echoed off the library walls as Dante and Vincent rolled across the rug, trading heavy, breathless blows.
Vincent went limp instantly, passing out cold on the floor.
Dante stood up, swaying slightly on his feet, breathing heavily, his chest heaving with exertion. He looked down at the unconscious traitor, then raised his head and looked at me.
Before I could run to him, the heavy oak doors of the library burst open.
Big Mike and half a dozen Spedaro loyalists poured into the room, their assault rifles raised, having finally cut through the Chicago enforcers outside.
“Boss!” Big Mike shouted, scanning the room before lowering his weapon in sheer awe. He blinked, staring at Dante standing tall on his own two feet. “Boss... you’re... you’re standing.”
“Tie him up,” Dante ordered, his voice ringing with absolute command as he pointed down at Vincent. “And round up the remaining Chicago mercs. Anyone who surrenders goes to the holding cells. Anyone who resists gets buried in the yard.”
“Yes, boss!” Big Mike barked, signaling his men to secure the traitor.
Dante took a slow, deliberate step forward, swaying slightly as the sudden drop in adrenaline caught up with him.
I didn't hesitate. I dropped my gun onto the table, ran across the room, and threw my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder.
Dante caught me, wrapping his strong arms around my waist and pulling me tightly against his chest, burying his face in my hair as he let out a long, shuddering breath.
“You idiot,” I whispered, tears of relief stinging my eyes. “You could have fallen. You could have been killed.”
“I told you, Anna,” Dante murmured against my ear, his voice rich with quiet, unbreakable devotion. “My protection is absolute. Nothing—not Chicago, not Vincent, not even my own broken body—is ever going to take you away from me.”
Epilogue: A New DynastyThree months later, the Spedaro estate looked entirely different.
The bullet holes in the mahogany walls had been repaired, the shattered stained-glass windows replaced with magnificent new panes depicting the Spedaro family crest, and the rose gardens outside bloomed brightly under the warm spring sun.
Vincent Russo was serving a life sentence in a federal supermax prison, while my brother Jason was safely locked away on federal fraud and conspiracy charges, far away from any gambling dens or syndicate bosses. My father had retired to a quiet, monitored cottage in upstate New York, his debts paid in full, living out his days in peaceful obscurity.
And inside the grand study of the Spedaro mansion, the wheelchair sat folded neatly in the corner, gathering dust.
Dante didn't need it anymore. Though he still used a cane on long walks, his physical therapy had triumphed over the doctors' darkest predictions. He walked across the polished marble floor with a strong, steady stride, carrying two cups of steaming coffee toward the balcony doors where I stood looking out over the iron gates.
He stepped up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder.
“Penny for your thoughts, Mrs. Spedaro,” Dante whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek.
I leaned back against his solid chest, smiling as I looked at the ring sparkling on my finger.
“I was just thinking,” I murmured, turning around to wrap my arms around his neck, “that signing that contract was the best mistake I ever made.”
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Dante’s dark eyes flashed with that familiar, wicked warmth, and his lips curved into a slow, breathtaking smile.
“It wasn't a mistake, Anna,” he said softly, pulling me close for a deep, lingering kiss that chased away every shadow of the past. “It was destiny.”
