MILLIE
Mathias remained silent, his gaze unwavering as I showed him the test, although it was clear he was already aware. Silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken implications.
“Gio doesn’t know,” Mathias finally broke the silence, his words carrying a mix of statement and reassurance.
I nodded, confirming the truth. Clutching the car’s edge, I realized the enormity of the situation. I was carrying Gio’s child a life intertwined with danger and uncertainty. Panic gripped me; I had ventured into enemy territory with the legacy of our love growing within me. Regret gnawed at me, the realization of my recklessness hitting hard.
“Millie,” Mathias’s voice was softer now, a stark contrast to his earlier demeanor. I looked up at him, uncertainty etched across my face. We stood frozen, neither knowing the next step.
“I understand you must consider the Outfit,” I murmured, my words halted by his raised palm.
“I will release you. Gio is my adversary, and that won’t change anytime soon. However, you’re an innocent, and you bear his child. I hope he would make the same choice if Kayla were in his grasp, though she never will be,” he declared, a fierceness mirroring Gio’s gleaming in his eyes. Kayla was his vulnerability, just as I was Gio’s.
The question lingered would Gio have made the same choice? I yearned to believe he would.
“But remember, Millie, if I cross paths with Gio, his end will be slow and agonizing,” Mathias’s proclamation sent shivers down my spine. I believed his words; they weren’t empty threats.
“Promise me you won’t reveal this to Gio,” he commanded.
“I won’t, I promise,” I responded fervently, knowing that if Gio discovered the truth, it would unleash chaos.
He nodded tersely.
Taking a hesitant step toward him, I whispered, “Thank you, Mathias. Thank you so much.”
He nodded again, his acknowledgment filled with unspoken depth. “Do you have your plane ticket?” he inquired.
“Yes, my flight leaves in three hours.”
“I’ll take you to the airport.”
We returned to the car, the weight of the situation pressing upon me. My hand instinctively returned to my stomach, a surreal reminder of the life that now resided within me the embodiment of Gio’s and my tumultuous love story.
In the passenger seat beside me, I felt the tension radiating off Mathias as he navigated the road toward the airport. The city lights blurred into streaks of color, marking the path to departure. With a controlled halt, he brought the car to a stop in front of the terminal. The hum of the engine ceased, and he turned toward me, his features transforming into an unsettling blend of determination and something darker, almost predatory.
The gravity of his words hung in the air, heavy like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury. His voice was low, edged with a steely resolve. “Millie, promise me this: don’t ever set foot in Chicago again. This time, I’m granting you this reprieve, but mark my words, if there’s a next time, I won’t hesitate to take whatever measures are necessary to ensure victory for the Outfit.”
I gazed back at him, my heart aching with the knowledge that our worlds were hurtling toward an irreparable rupture. Desperation tinged my voice as I dared to challenge the ominous future he painted. “Can’t there be a chance for peace, Mathias? Think of our children, think of Karsen, and all the innocents who will inevitably become casualties of this war.”
A cold smile curved Mathias’s lips, the expression devoid of warmth or empathy. “For peace to even be a consideration, Gio needs to surrender Dario and Sienna. An apology from him wouldn’t hurt either,” he retorted, the venom in his words betraying his underlying thirst for retribution.
But we both understood the futility of such an outcome. Gio, like Mathias, was a man of unwavering pride, and the gulf between them seemed insurmountable. We were caught in a vice grip of two stubborn, antagonistic forces, and the impending darkness threatened to consume us all – women, children, and the very fabric of our lives.
My thoughts turned to the life stirring within me, a fragile existence soon to be thrust into a world tainted by bloodshed and vendetta. Born in the midst of conflict, bound by the code of loyalty that governed these men’s lives. The weight of that destiny pressed against me, and I traced a soothing touch over my belly, seeking solace for both myself and the innocent life I carried.
“Mathias, please,” I implored, my voice a whisper of desperation. “Karsen deserves more than this. Our child deserves more than this.”
“Leave,” Mathias commanded, his voice firm yet strangely distant. And so, with a heavy heart, I complied. As I stepped out of the car, I felt the finality of the moment seeping into my bones. I resisted the urge to look back, to catch one last glimpse of the life I was leaving behind.
Passing through the airport’s sliding doors, I felt a mixture of apprehension and determination churn within me. Each step toward the departure gate felt like a step toward an uncertain fate, a future untethered from the city that had defined so much of my life.
Settling into the airplane seat, I stared out at the sprawling cityscape, the lights like distant stars. I couldn’t help but wonder if Gio, the man who had ignited this feud, would have made the same choice. Would he have let go of Kaye, allowed her to walk away from the turmoil? The answer eluded me, buried beneath layers of pride and ego that had set the stage for our fractured reality.
GIO
My grip on control was tenuous, a fragile thread I clung to as I absorbed the words of my men. The air was tense with the weight of uncertainty, and even Sebastian, usually composed, seemed to harbor intentions of freeing our family from the burden of existence.
Before me, Uncle Amadeo and Uncle Tonio engaged in an unspoken confrontation, though I suspected their true dialogue was occurring behind closed doors, in whispered conspiracies against me. Tonio, a man of timidity and evasion, and Amadeo, only marginally more steadfast, would eventually make their move. Perhaps Amadeo would dispatch his last remaining legitimate son to be the harbinger of my demise.
A sense of inevitability hung heavy in the room. “War is unavoidable,” I growled, my voice a low rumble that echoed through the space. “You all know this as well as I do. Don’t pretend you haven’t been waiting for an opportunity to bathe in Outfit blood once more.” Agreement was reflected in the nods of my Underbosses and most of my Captains. But not from Amadeo and Tonio.
My gaze wandered upwards, fixating on the towering ceiling of the power station. This place had borne witness to countless meetings over the past three years, chosen specifically to reinforce the brutal statement I represented. I had a hunch that their memories needed a jolt of remembrance.
Abruptly, Amadeo’s fist slammed onto the table, pulling my attention back to him. He brushed away Tonio’s pacifying gesture and spoke with a frustrated edge. “Enough,” his voice rumbled. “You’ve gambled recklessly, elevating the youngest Pearce girl and making her a Captain.” He nodded in the direction of Dario, a gesture filled with disdain.
Dario tensed in his seat, but Amadeo’s eyes returned to mine. “All because you let that blonde Pearce seductress lead you around by the groin.”
A surge of fury powered through me. The immense table was shoved aside by my might, and I lunged at my uncle, fingers closing around his throat. He was lifted from his seat, and the chair was flung aside. I pressed him against the wall, hands clamped around his neck, squeezing with every ounce of strength I could muster. His face reddened, eyes bulging with desperation. He fought back, a wild frenzy of blows and scratches, yet I held firm. A palpable silence encased us as he grappled for his life.
In his eyes, I saw the reflection of a moment from years past, when I had extinguished his son’s life. His resistance wavered, bones yielding as my grip pierced his carotid and esophagus. Gurgled noises escaped him, blood spewing from his lips. He choked and wheezed on his own life force, crimson splattering onto my face and shirt. Relentless, I maintained my hold until his light extinguished, and then, with finality, I released him, allowing his lifeless form to crumple at my feet. The room had fallen deathly silent. I turned to face my men, their gazes locked on me. My hands, my face, my shirt-all drenched in blood. Sebastian’s expression held a blend of shock and morbid fascination, as if he beheld a creature sprung from the depths of Hell itself.
“I am your Capo,” I proclaimed, voice unwavering. “I hold dominion over the East Coast. I govern all of you. If any among you harbor grievances, have the courage to confront me directly, and I’ll grant you a swift end. But mark my words: the next individual to insult my wife will meet a fate far more agonizing than my uncle’s crushed throat. I will not tolerate any form of disrespect.”