"You chose this," he says quietly. "You chose him over family."
"I didn't choose anything!" Tears stream down my face. "I never had a choice!"
"There's always a choice, Rosaria. You made yours."
I turn in Salvatore's arms, pressing my palms against his chest. "Please. Please don't do this. They're my family."
His green eyes are glacial, empty of mercy. "They threatened you. Threatened our child."
"I'm begging you." I tremble against him, shaking so hard tears don't even come anymore.
"So am I." His voice drops to a whisper. "I'm begging you to understand why this has to happen."
The guns click as safeties are released. The sound echoes across the courtyard with terrible finality.
31
SALVATORE
The courtyard spreads before me in the dying light, stone stained with blood that pools beneath three kneeling figures. Emilio Costa, his son Victor, and their loyal dog Rocco wait for my word. Their clothes are torn, faces swollen from the beating my men delivered. Zip ties bite into their wrists behind their backs. They know what comes next.
I stand with Gianni at my right shoulder and Bruno at my left, both armed, both ready. Twenty more of my soldiers form a semicircle around the prisoners. The silence feels absolute as I prepare myself to give the order that will end this war once and for all.
But then I hear her voice behind me, desperate and breaking.
"Let me go!"
I turn to see Rosaria struggling against one of my men who tried to prevent her from entering the courtyard. Her face is streaked with tears, her dark hair wild around her shoulders. She breaks free and rushes forward.
"Uncle, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Emilio's gaze finds hers across the distance. For a moment, his expression softens. Then it hardens again, colder than winter stone.
"You chose this," he says quietly. "You chose him over family."
"I didn't choose anything!" Tears stream down her face as she looks between us. "I never had a choice!"
"There's always a choice, Rosaria. You made yours."
The accusation cuts through the air between them. I watch this exchange with growing tension, my finger resting on the trigger of the pistol at my side. These men came to my home with weapons and threats. They would have taken her from me, taken our child. They deserve what's coming.
Rosaria turns toward me, pressing her palms against my chest as she looks up at me with those dark eyes that have haunted my thoughts for months.
"Please. Please don't do this. They're my family."
I look down at her—pregnant, exhausted, still trying to save the men who would have destroyed her to preserve their own power. My expression remains cold, empty of the mercy she seeks.
"They threatened you. Threatened our child."
"I'm begging you." She trembles against me, shaking so hard that tears don't even come anymore. Her voice breaks on every word. "Please."
The desperation in her voice reaches places inside me I thought were sealed off years ago. But I can't let that matter now. Not when the stakes are this high.
"So am I," I tell her, my voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm begging you to understand why this has to happen."
I signal to my men. The guns click as safeties are released. The sound echoes across the courtyard with terrible finality. Rosaria flinches at the noise, her hands clutching at my shirt.
But then she does the one thing I didn't expect. She pulls away from me and drops to her knees beside her uncle and cousin, positioning herself between them and my soldiers' weapons.
