RUTHLESS TIES

Coming back to New York felt like willingly stepping into a trap I’d barely escaped the first time. Even the air tasted the same—heavy, metallic, and familiar in a way that made my skin tighten. The taxi rolled to a stop in front of the cathedral, the grand stone spires stabbing into the sky like they were warning me to turn around before it was too late.

God, how I wanted to.

But this was for Silas.

My brother.

My best friend.

The one person from that world I never stopped loving.

I reached for Callum’s small hand. His fingers curled immediately around mine—warm, trusting, unaware of the storm we were walking into. He stared up at me with those large brown eyes, wide and curious.

Matteo’s eyes.

He had no idea what today meant. No understanding of the history soaked into these walls or the danger threaded through my bloodline.

To him, everything was just another adventure.

“You ready, sweetheart?” I whispered, leaning close so he wouldn’t hear the crack in my voice.

He nodded eagerly, his dark ringlets bouncing. “Are we going to see Uncle Silas now?”

I managed a smile that felt like it was made of glass. Fragile. Breakable.

“Yes, baby. After the ceremony.”

The words tasted bitter. Silas deserved joy, deserved everything good the world had to offer. But the knot in my stomach wouldn’t loosen—not with the cathedral towering above us like a monument to all the things I’d tried to forget.

I lifted my gaze to its carved stone archways, cold and imposing. Churches were supposed to be places of peace, places where hope lived.

This one felt like a tomb.

The moment we stepped inside, the world narrowed. Incense curled through the air, thick enough to choke on. Murmured conversations blended with the soft shuffle of clothing, but every voice fell to a hush as eyes turned toward us.

They recognized me.

Of course they did.

Lilianna Genovese. The daughter who disappeared. The disgrace who walked away from the family, from the power, from the blood-soaked empire my father ruled.

They didn’t dare speak to me. But they stared.

I kept my head high, gripping Callum’s hand, searching for a pew far from the front—far from the man whose shadow I spent my childhood living under.

But even from a distance, Alessio Genovese dominated the room. Broad. Dark-suited. Unyielding. He sat like a king on a throne, carved from ice and iron.

When his gaze finally collided with mine, something flickered. Surprise. Maybe even something softer. It vanished a moment later, buried beneath that familiar granite expression.

“Momma, who’s that?” Callum whispered, pointing toward the altar.

My heart lurched before I even followed his gaze.

Silas stood tall beside another man. And that man—

Matteo.

The world tilted.

He looked… exactly as I remembered and yet sharper, harder. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a suit that fit him like it had been stitched into his skin. His black hair was slicked back, exposing the angles of his face—jaw cut sharp enough to draw blood, cheekbones like steel.

He wasn’t looking at me. Not yet. But my body remembered him anyway. The heat of his hands, the sound of his voice, the night we shared—and the morning I fled.

“That’s Uncle Silas,” I whispered to Callum, forcing steadiness I didn’t feel. “And… a friend.”

Callum frowned at Matteo. “He looks grumpy.”

A quiet laugh escaped me. “He’s just serious, baby. Some grown-ups are.”

Before I could gather myself, music swelled—deep, echoing organ chords that bounced off the cathedral walls. The bride began her slow walk down the aisle. A tall, elegant Russian woman. Beautiful, yes, but there was something in her steps that felt… scripted. Too precise. Too controlled.

Silas smiled softly—one of those rare, precious smiles he saved for the people he truly cared for. It made my heart ache. He deserved happiness. He deserved peace.

And yet…

Something felt wrong.

The vows began, and Callum shifted restlessly beside me. I reached into my bag and handed him a toy car, grateful for the distraction. My attention drifted again—pulled like a magnet to the front.

Matteo wasn’t watching the bride.

He wasn’t watching Silas.

His eyes were scanning the room, cold and calculating, the eyes of a man always two breaths from violence. The tension in his jaw was sharp enough to cut glass.

A shiver crawled up my spine.

Something was about to happen. I felt it.

And then it did.

The bride moved too quickly.

Her bouquet dipped.

Metal glinted.

Time cracked open.

“No!” I screamed, instinct taking over as I threw myself over Callum.

The gunshot detonated through the cathedral—loud enough to shake the stained glass. Silas jerked as the bullet tore into him, crimson splattering across his white suit like a grotesque flower blooming.

Another shot.

My father staggered, eyes wide, shock etched across his face before he crumpled.

Chaos erupted—screams, gasps, bodies diving for cover.

“Momma?” Callum whimpered, buried against my chest.

“It’s okay, baby,” I lied, clutching him so tight my arms shook. “I’ve got you. Stay down.”

Movement cut through the violence—precise, lethal.

Matteo.

He surged forward like a storm unleashed, pulling a gun from his jacket with a speed I barely registered. His shots were clean, controlled. The bride fell first, her body collapsing in a boneless heap, bouquet scattering petals across the marble.

But more men flooded the aisles—armed, ruthless, shouting in Russian.

The world narrowed to survival.

I grabbed Callum and ran.

“Lilianna!” Matteo’s voice carved through the chaos—sharp, commanding, unmistakably furious.

I turned. Our eyes locked.

For a split second, everything stopped.

He was covered in blood—some his, most not. His movements were honed violence, every shot placed with chilling precision.

He wasn’t just dangerous.

He was born from danger.

“Stay low!” he barked, cutting down another attacker before sprinting toward us.

Callum whimpered, clinging to my neck. I ducked behind a pew, shielding him as Matteo tore through the remaining distance and grabbed my arm—strong, firm, grounding.

“I’ve got you,” he growled.

And God help me, I believed him.

We sprinted down a side aisle as Matteo shot a man who dared step in our way. My legs burned, lungs screaming, but Matteo didn’t slow—didn’t let me slow.

We burst through the side doors into blinding daylight. Cool air hit my face like a slap. Matteo guided—no, pushed—us toward a waiting car.

“In!” he snapped.

I climbed inside, pulling Callum with me. Matteo slammed the door and rounded to the front.

“Drive.”

The car lurched forward, tires screeching.

Only then did I realize I was shaking uncontrollably.

My brother was dead.

My father was dead.

And I was back in the world I had clawed my way out of.

“Are you hurt?” Matteo’s voice came low, rough, softer than I expected. His eyes scanned me, dark and intense.

“I—I don’t know,” I whispered, staring blindly at my trembling hands.

“You’re safe now.”

Safe.

The word felt foreign. Empty. Meaningless.

“Who were they?” I asked, voice hollow.

“Russians,” he said tightly. “They’ve been pushing for months. This was their message.”

A message.

My family’s blood spilled as punctuation.

“What do they want?”

“Control,” Matteo answered simply. “And they’ll kill anyone who stands in their way.”

My throat tightened. “They killed my brother. My father. They took everything.”

A muscle in Matteo’s jaw ticked. “I know.”

There was something deadly calm in his voice, something that made my skin prickle.

“And they’ll pay for it.”

He wasn’t making a promise.

He was issuing a sentence.

Callum’s small voice broke through the storm. “Momma… I’m scared.”

I pressed a kiss to his forehead, holding him as tightly as I dared. “I know, baby. But I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Matteo looked at us then—really looked. His gaze lingered on Callum, and for a flicker of a moment, something raw, something knowing, crossed his face.

Recognition.

But he said nothing.

He looked away, jaw clenched.

The city blurred past the windows—cold buildings, gray streets, shadows too familiar. And it hit me, bone-deep and undeniable.

My old life had found me again.

The life I thought I escaped.

The one I swore would never touch my child.

But I wasn’t alone anymore.

For better or worse… Matteo was here.

And together, we were going to drown the world that dared take my family.