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Chapter 19
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2025-04-16 07:10:00VICENZO’S POV
The first thought that came to my head was Rosa. They had followed me here, they knew where she lived. My blood was boiling with rage and I turned to stare at her door. Rosa knew better than to open it. She was safe, the shot had been for me. I took out my gun and walked calmly to my car.
I could still taste the metallic sting of blood in the back of my throat as I gripped the steering wheel, the leather slick against my palm not from sweat, but from the thin line of blood running down my forearm. A graze. Close enough to piss me off.
Close enough to remind me someone out there had finally grown the balls to come for me.
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BIANCA’S POVI used to be the one he called first. When his brothers died. After it all. After her. When he couldn’t find her. When he scouted the entire city searching for her but found she was gone without a trace.When he was drowning in the weight of the name Moretti, it was me he came to. Me he leaned on.And now?Now, I was just a burden. The girl he was marrying out of convenience. And he wouldn’t even treat me with dignity. I sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor of my apartment, a bottle of wine sweating on the coffee table beside me, a stack of old Polaroids scattered like shrapnel around me.There we were—me and Enzo—smiling outside that shitty diner he used to love. Me with his leather jacket slung over my shoulders. Him with his arm around my waist like it meant something.It had meant something.But now? Now she was back.She. Rosa Amato. No. Rosa fucking Pacino. She was there in some of the pictures and in
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