Betrayed on My Birthday, Crowned By A True Don Chapter 07

Betrayed on My Birthday, Crowned By A True Don Chapter 07

I told him, word by word.

“Because of the miscarriage. Because the next day I didn’t rest. I went back to the streets to fight for

territory because we needed it and there was no one else. My body never recovered properly. I

probably can’t carry a pregnancy to term.”

I held his gaze.

“Probably. Not definitely. The problem isn’t my body, Dante. The problem is you.”

He shook his head. His lips were trembling. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. If I could go back to that day, I

never would have let you face any of that alone-”

Raphael made a sound of contempt. “Who gave you permission to speak in front of me?”

“You enjoy putting people in cages? Now it’s your turn to see what that feels like.”

Two reinforced steel kennels were wheeled in. Inside each: a dog that had been deliberately starved

for two weeks. Mastiffs, the kind bred for weight and aggression.

“Put them in. Separately.”

Raphael issued the command, then turned and covered my eyes with his palm. “Don’t look, mia

cara.”

That was when something in me finally gave.

I had held myself together through all of it: the clinic floor, the meat locker, Camilla’s voice,

Dante’s hands. I had not broken.

But Raphael’s hand over my eyes, his arm drawing me against his shoulder, it was too much and

not enough all at once.

I let myself lean into him.

I remembered.

When we were building the Caruso name from the ground up, I had taken a residency at an underground jazz bar to fund the first weapons cache. Night after night I sang in a smoky room for whoever happened to be drinking.

There had been a regular. He always sat in the darkest corner, always watching. We’d made eye contact a few times and I’d dismissed it. People stared.

Later I realized who he was. The half-dead boy I’d pulled out of an alley.

I heard the bar manager mention, casually, that the mysterious VIP was apparently obsessed with the singer. But I told myself the gratitude and the feeling had gotten confused. Besides, Dante and I were starting to make a name for ourselves. I had no reason to stay.

On my last night, I quietly returned the tennis bracelet Raphael had sent to my dressing room. It

was worth a fortune. I left it at the door with a note.

Tears finally came. Raphael held me steady and turned us both away from what was happening

behind us.

He held my face in both hands.

“We found each other again. It’s not too late.”

“Thank God. I finally get to marry the only woman I have ever loved.”

“Let everything from before stay buried here.”

I had crossed paths with Raphael a handful of times over the years at underworld summits. But my

whole vision had been Dante. I hadn’t let myself see anything else.

The truth was, Dante and I had loved each other. Genuinely, completely. The vows he’d made in the dark, the ones that came out desperate and sweet, had been real. The nights he’d panicked because I was crying. The time he’d driven across state lines at midnight to bring back a specific pastry I’d half-consciously mentioned wanting.

All of it had been real.

None of it existed anymore.

From behind us came the sounds of tearing, of animals, of something becoming quieter. The smell

of blood spread through the cold air.

Raphael signaled his men to walk me out.

“Elena!”

Dante had killed the dog. Somehow. His suit was shredded, the skin beneath it raw and open; the

cage had been too small for him to fight properly. But he was on his feet.

I turned instinctively.

Camilla had fared significantly worse. She had lost consciousness from fright within seconds of

being put in. The mastiff had found her leg.

I looked away.

“Elena.” Dante’s eyes burned into mine. “Are you really choosing him?”

“Is my Donna’s name something a piece of garbage like you gets to use?” Raphael’s voice dropped to its most dangerous register. “It seems we didn’t keep you in there long enough. You still have the

breath to run your mouth.”