POV: Sofia
---
Dawn was breaking over the city when Antonio finally took me to see Carlo.
The safe house was in a nondescript building in Brooklyn the kind of place you walked past every day without noticing. Inside, it was all business. Men with guns. Rooms with no windows. The smell of coffee and tension.
Carlo sat on a cot in a small room, his face a wreck of purple bruises and yellowing cuts. He looked up when I entered, and the hope in his eyes nearly broke me.
"Sofia"
I held up my hand. Stopped three feet from him. Looked at my baby brother the kid I'd taught to read, the boy who used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms and saw a stranger.
"Tell me everything."
He did.
It poured out of him like poison from a wound. The gambling. The first debt. The second. The Russians, offering him a way out. The information he'd passed warehouse locations, shipment schedules, names. Two dead Matteo soldiers. More that might follow.
"I didn't know they'd kill anyone," he said, voice cracking. "I thought it was just business. Just information. I didn't think "
"No." My voice was cold. "You didn't think. You never think, Carlo. That's the problem."
"I know. I know." He was crying now. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Sorry doesn't bring them back."
The words echoed what Antonio had said. They felt true in my mouth. Heavy. Permanent.
"Sofia, please…."
"Please what?" I stepped closer, and he flinched. Good. Let him flinch. "Please save you? Please fix this? Like I've been doing my whole life?"
"I didn't ask you to"
"You didn't have to. You're my brother. It was my job. My burden." I knelt in front of him, close enough to see the fear in his eyes. "But not anymore. Do you understand? I'm done carrying you. I'm done cleaning up your messes. From now on, you carry yourself. You fix this. Or you don't."
He stared at me. "You mean that?"
"I mean it."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Okay. Okay, I'll do it. Whatever Antonio needs. I'll make it right."
"You'll try." I stood. "That's all any of us can do."
I walked out without looking back.
---
ANTONIO
I was waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall. My face gave nothing away, but I saw something in his eyes when I approached respect, maybe. Or surprise.
"You're harder than you look," he said.
"You have no idea."
He almost smiled. "Good. You'll need that."
"I need you to keep him alive."
"I will." He pushed off the wall, stood close. "I gave you my word. He works for me now, he's under my protection. That means something."
"It means everything."
He kissed me then ..soft, quick, a promise in the middle of chaos.
"Go home," he said. "Sleep. Tomorrow's the wedding."
"I'm not leaving you."
"You're leaving this building. There's a difference." He cupped my face. "I have hours of work ahead. Planning. Calls. You being here won't help. But you being rested, clear-headed, ready for tomorrow that helps. That's everything."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to stay, to prove I could handle this world, to show him I wasn't fragile.
But he was right.
"Call me if anything changes."
"Every hour."
"You're going to wake me up."
"Yes." He kissed me again. "Go."
---
SOFIA
I didn't sleep.
I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the light change outside my window. Morning became afternoon. Afternoon became evening. My phone buzzed every hour, just like he promised.
Still alive. Still working. Still thinking about you.
Carlo's cooperating. Marco's impressed. Don't tell him I said that.
I miss you. Is that ridiculous? We saw each other this morning.
I smiled at each one. Responded to each one. Held the phone like a lifeline.
At 10 PM, he called.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself." I tucked the phone against my ear, curled up in bed. "You sound tired."
"I am tired. But I wanted to hear your voice."
My heart did something complicated. "You're hearing it."
"Tell me something. Something good. Something that isn't about any of this."
I thought for a moment. "When I was eight, I found a kitten in the backyard. It was tiny couldn't have been more than a few weeks old. I hid it in my closet for three days before my mom found out."
"What happened to it?"
"She made me give it to the shelter. But she also let me visit it every week until someone adopted it." I smiled at the memory. "I named it Mr. Whiskers. I was very creative."
He laughed ..,a real laugh, warm and surprised. "Mr. Whiskers."
"He was a very distinguished cat."
"I'm sure he was." A pause. "Thank you. I needed that."
"Anytime."
We talked for another hour. About nothing. About everything. About the future we were walking into tomorrow.
When we finally hung up, I felt lighter.
Tomorrow, I married Antonio Matteo.
And for the first time since this nightmare began, I was ready.
---
ANTONIO
The wedding was at noon.
I stood in front of the mirror at 10 AM, adjusting my tie, and tried to recognize the man looking back at me.
Same face. Same hands. Same suit I'd worn to a dozen funerals and twice as many negotiations.
But something was different. Something fundamental.
I was happy.
Not content. Not satisfied. Happy. Genuinely, terrifyingly happy.
Marco appeared in the doorway. "You ready?"
"No."
"Good. Means you're human." He tossed me a flask. "Drink. Calm the nerves."
I took a pull. Whiskey, good quality. Burned going down.
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet. Thank me after you survive the ceremony." He grinned. "Your father's already crying. Just so you know."
" He doesn't cry."
"He's crying. Elena's making fun of him. It's a whole thing."
I shook my head, but I was smiling. "And Sofia?"
"Hasn't arrived yet. But her mother called she's on time, dressed, apparently calm as anything." Marco raised an eyebrow. "She's either very brave or very stupid. Marrying into this family."
"Both, probably."
"Probably." He clapped me on the shoulder. "Let's go get you married."
---
SOFIA
The church was beautiful.
St. Leonard's in Brooklyn, where generations of Matteos and Bianchis had been married, baptized, buried. I'd driven past it a hundred times without ever imagining I'd walk down its aisle.
My mother fussed with my veil. My father waited at the door, arm extended. Carlo was somewhere in the back, under guard, watching his sister marry the man whose men he'd helped kill.
Life was strange.
"You look beautiful," my mother whispered. "He's lucky."
"I'm the lucky one."
She smiled a real smile, the first in weeks. "Then go. Don't keep him waiting."
My father took my arm. Together, we walked to the doors.
"Last chance to run," he murmured.
"I'm not running."
"Good." He squeezed my hand. "Because I think he loves you. Really loves you. And that's worth more than any peace treaty."
The doors opened.
I saw Antonio at the altar. Saw his face when he looked at me raw, open, full of something that made my chest ache.
I walked toward him.
And for the first time in my life, I walked toward my future instead of away from it.
---
ANTONIO
She was radiant.
I'd seen Sofia in jeans and sweaters, flushed from laughter. I'd seen her with bedhead and no makeup, sleepy and soft. I'd seen her furious, frightened, fierce.
I'd never seen her like this.
White dress. Veil. Eyes bright with tears she was fighting.
Mine.
She was going to be mine.
The ceremony passed in a blur. Vows I meant with my whole heart. Rings exchanged. The priest's voice, solemn and steady.
And then: "You may kiss your bride."
I pulled her close, lifted her veil, and kissed her like the world was watching.
Because it was.
But I only cared about her.
---
SOFIA
"Mrs. Matteo," Antonio whispered against my lips.
"I like the sound of that."
"Good. Because you're stuck with me now."
"Lucky me."
He laughed, and I laughed, and for one perfect moment, everything else disappeared.
Then Marco appeared at his elbow. "We have a problem."
The world came crashing back.