All Chapters of The Mafia’s Runaway Bride: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

VICENZO’S POVI woke with Rosa’s body tangled in mine, her cheek against my chest, one arm slung over my ribs like she was holding me to earth. The morning light filtered in slow and soft, brushing her bare shoulder, catching the edges of her hair spread over the pillow. For a moment, everything was quiet. Still. And it was peaceful.I brushed a knuckle along her spine, feeling her stir slightly. She didn’t wake, just let out a soft sigh and curled closer. My throat tightened. How many nights had I imagined this? Her here, with me, not running, not away from me. Just Rosa. She was here at last. In my arms.My hand found her hip beneath the shirt—my shirt—and stayed there. I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to break whatever fragile thing had formed between us overnight. But reality had a cruel way of creeping in. I had to get up, a war was looming in my city and I had to tackle it.I shifted carefully, extricating myself from her warmth, and reached for the pants I’d left crumpled on

ROSA’S POV I could feel my heart squeezing in my chest, squeezing the breath out of me. My papa had been a terrible man, terrible to the outside world and terrible to his family. My mama hated him, I hated him…my brothers had wished for a normal life. Still, his death hurt. I still dreamt of him and I still remember the things he had taught me. Was I finally going to get revenge? The taxi hummed down narrow, broken streets, the city blurring past in streaks of neon and shadow. I sat stiffly in the backseat, the cracked leather sticking to the back of my thighs, my hands fisting and unfisting in my lap. Pietro sat beside me, close enough that I could feel the weight of him, smell the faint metallic tang of rain soaked into his coat. I hated that it still rattled me; seeing him. It was like a door I had nailed shut years ago had been kicked open and the cold was pouring in. If he actually knew something…

ROSA’S POVThe blood drained from my face, leaving me cold, hollowed out like a gutted fish. No. No, no, no. It couldn’t be. I had done what my father wanted from me. What he asked of me. I had run away. I hadn't shown up at the church; I’d left Vicenzo at the altar so it just couldn’t be. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear what Pietro was about to say… what he wasn’t saying but I could already feel building between us like a storm. Because I knew. God help me, I knew.Vicenzo’s family. The massacre no one talked about, the dark stain no one ever washed clean. When I first returned to the city, Liana had told me. It was the reason Don Alessio walked with a limp. They had all been massacred with a machete. Even then, I had thought about it. The Pacino murdered with a machete and nothing else. And now, hearing Pietro’s voice, hearing the terrible weight in it, the guilt, the regret, it all slotted into place in my mind like jagged pieces of glass.I didn’t want to think a

ROSA’S POV“You seem to know an awful lot about this life, Rosalinda Amato,” Vicenzo said, his voice low, dangerous. There was a question in his statement. One that wasn’t fully realized and the possibility of it scared me.  I stiffened, my nails digging into my palms. No. He wasn’t going to tear me open like this. Not after everything. I wasn’t about to get caught on a simple lie. “I know because I was friends with Bianca Ricci,” I snapped, lifting my chin. “You think you’re the only one who’s had blood in their life? I grew up hearing the stories. I grew up seeing th

ROSA’S POVNo sooner had Enzo left did Bianca follow suit after blowing me a mock kiss. The door had barely closed behind Enzo, but I was still standing there like it had slammed through my chest. He knew. I didn’t need him to say the words. The way he looked at me—that blend of disbelief, fury, and something else I couldn’t place—it said enough. It shattered something inside me. All this time, I had pretended. Pretended I didn’t know how to navigate this world. Pretended I had been yanked into it against my will. But I had been born into it, cradled in the blood-stained legacy of the Pacino name.I knew this world. I had grown up speaking in code, watch