All Chapters of The Mafia’s Runaway Bride: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

ROSA’S POVThe moment I stepped out of Pietro’s office, the air felt wrong. Too thin. Like grief had vacuumed all the oxygen from the world and it hurt. My legs carried me without thought. Down streets I didn’t see. Through traffic I didn’t hear. Until I stood outside my apartment, fumbling with the keys like a drunk even though I hadn’t touched a drop…yet.I opened the door and stepped in then I collapsed. Not onto the couch. Not the bed. Just the floor. My knees hit the floor first, then my hands, and then finally, my cheek pressed against the cold tile like I needed to feel something that wouldn’t lie to me.And I wept.

VICENZO’S POVThe morning after it all felt like poison in my veins. I couldn’t scrub it off, no matter how hard I tried. I stood under the shower until the water turned cold, my hands braced on the tile wall, my jaw clenched so tight I thought I might crack my teeth. My skin burned from the heat, but inside, I was frozen. Numb. Hollow.Bianca.What she did… what I let happen.My chest tightened. I hadn’t even known what was happening until it was too late. My body had betrayed me. And now my mind was tearing itself apart. I slammed my palm against the wall.It all kept hitting me like bricks. Everything was playing like a loop in my brain, the night with Bianca. The fight with my father. The sound of Rosa’s voice cracking when she said you left me like I was nothing. It all blended into one heavy, choking mess in my head.And then there was Sofia.Sofia.Her tiny arms around my neck. Her soft voice calling me E

VICENZO’S POVI didn’t fight it and I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even speak. I just nodded once, my jaw tight, as Don Ricci motioned for me to walk with him. The evening was heavy around us, the city breathing in muffled silence. Street lights flickered above us, casting long shadows over the cracked pavement.My father must spoke to Don Ricci and he was probably here to talk sense to me. Normally I would lash out but I was too spent from my fight with Mateo that I wasn’t goaded by this action. Don Ricci studied me with those cool, unreadable eyes, then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small leather case. Wordlessly, he opened it and began rolling a cigar, his fingers slow, practiced, elegant moving like a man who’d done this a thousand times.I watched him, my body drained, my muscles aching from the rage that had bled out of me earlier. I had no energy left to yell, no more glass left to shatter and I frankly just needed to lie down. Don Ricci lit the cigar and handed i

 ROSA’S POV My legs didn’t move. My lips couldn’t form words. I just stood there, staring at the man who couldn’t possibly be real. My brother. Not just a memory. Not a ghost. He was alive and he was smiling at me like this moment wasn’t warping the very fabric of my reality. How could this be? How could he be alive? I had mourned him, mourned my other brothers and my mother…even my father. So how could he be alive?    He took a step forward, then another, and before I could retreat, his arms wrapped around me. His chest was solid. Warm. His heartbeat thundered against my cheek

ROSA’S POVI froze. His voice echoed in my head, over and over, each word a hammer to my ribs.That’s how we get him.My mouth opened, but nothing came out. Air hissed from my lungs. My feet moved back instinctively, like my body was trying to put distance between me and this nightmare.“You leave her out of this,” I said. My voice was shaking, but the fury underneath was solid. “You hear me, Armano?”He didn’t flinch. He just tilted his head, like I was a child throwing a tantrum. His mouth curled in something that was not quite a smirk, not quite a sneer. “It’s Armani now.”“I don’t give a fuck what you call yourself,” I spat. “You come near my daughter and I swear to God, I will kill you myself.”He leaned forward slightly, folding his arms on the table, perfectly composed. “You ran for years, Rosalinda. Ran from all of this. From us. And where did you run to?” His eyes gleamed. “Into the arms of a Moretti. A prince. The son of a man who ruled the underworld in another fucking coun