117

117
PEDRO 

I closed the door behind me with a quiet click, the warmth of that scene still sitting heavy on my chest.

Vincenzo … at peace. Kadie… his anchor. And that little boy—his blood—wrapped into the moment like it was stitched by fate.

It shook me in a way I didn’t expect.

All this time, I’d stood beside the man in blood and war, watching him walk the edge alone. I’d never seen him let someone catch him—not like that. And now I couldn’t shake the thought:

Maybe I’d been the coward all along.

I walked down the corridor, that folder in my hand feeling heavier than it should, and there she was—leaning against the kitchen doorway in a loose robe and slippers, arms crossed, cup of tea in hand like she hadn’t been eavesdropping.

But Camilla never did anything without purpose.

Her dark eyes locked with mine before I could even say a word.

"Did you miss your way?" she asked quietly, a slight smirk playing on her lips to cover the tension. She was mad at me, but every part of her screamed my name, and I had to oblige. Camilla was perfect.

I didn’t answer. Not with words.

I walked straight up to her, not breaking eye contact.

And then I kissed her.

Deep and sure. Like I’d waited too long to remind her what she meant to me.

Her cup hit the countertop behind her with a soft clatter, forgotten as her hands slid into my shirt like muscle memory, clinging with all the things she never said out loud.

When we pulled apart, both of us breathless, I rested my forehead against hers.

“I’m done pretending I don’t want this,” I murmured. “I’m tired of watching from the sidelines.”

“Pedro—” she began, but her voice was already softer than her hesitation.

“I saw Vincenzo with Kadie,” I said, brushing her cheek. “And it made me realize... we’ve been wasting time. And I’m done wasting mine.”

She searched my eyes, the weight of past fights and unspoken fears lingering between us. But then her fingers curled around my collar, pulling me closer.

“Then prove it,” she whispered.

CAMILLA 

The taste of his kiss still lingered on my lips.

I couldn’t believe he’d actually done it.

Pedro—ever the composed, steel-jawed fixer—had just walked up to me like we hadn’t been dancing around each other for months, like he hadn’t disappeared on me when I needed him, and kissed me like I was the only thing that made sense.

And the worst part?

I didn’t want to pull away.

Instead, I stood there, with his forehead resting against mine, my heart thudding too loud, too fast, as if it recognized something my mind wasn’t ready to admit.

“You left,” I whispered, the words finally cracking through. “When things got complicated, you vanished.”

His hands tightened gently at my waist. “I was scared. You scare me, Camilla. Because with you… it’s real. And real things—real people—can be lost. And I’ve lost too much already, and I feared I was not good enough for you. ”

My throat tightened.

He wasn’t just talking about us.

“I trusted you with everything,” I murmured, voice trembling. “You shouldn't have made that promise to my father. It was doing life without you—” I faltered, swallowing. 

Pedro leaned back just enough to look at me, eyes soft with a truth I’d always run from.

“I never stopped needing you,” he said. “But I didn’t want to drag you into the mess I carry. My past, my mistakes. It felt easier to let you go than to ruin you with me.”

“And what changed?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His thumb brushed my cheek, gentle, grounding. “Tonight. I saw him—our stone-cold mafia boss—lying on the couch like a man who finally let someone hold his heart without breaking it. And I thought, —If he can have that… why can’t I?”

My breath hitched.

“You still love me?” I asked, voice breaking.

His answer was immediate. “I never stopped, Cam.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was healing.

I stepped into him, arms circling his waist, my cheek resting against his chest where his heartbeat raced in time with mine.

“We’re not them,” I murmured. “But we don’t have to destroy ourselves trying not to be.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Then let’s start from here.”

And for the first time in a long while… I felt like maybe we could.

VINCENZO 

I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

The last thing I remembered was her fingers in my hair, Enzo curled up nearby, and a silence so peaceful it wrapped around me like something I hadn’t felt in years.

Home.

I woke slowly, heavy with the kind of exhaustion that no number of nights could fix. The couch was empty now—she had probably gone to get things ready for when Enzo needed to get to bed.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stood and stretched, gave Enzo a soft kiss on the head, then followed the low hum of voices down the hall.

As I stepped into the soft light of the kitchen, I stopped.

There they were.

Pedro and Camilla.

He stood close—not the way you stand beside someone, but the way you stand when you're finally allowed to feel something again. His hands were still at her waist. Hers were wrapped around him. Their foreheads rested together like the world around them didn’t exist.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t clear my throat.

Just… stood there, taking it in.

For a moment, I saw something I hadn’t seen in months: Pedro, the man, not just the soldier. Camilla, no longer the firebrand hiding behind her sarcasm, but soft. Present. Real.

They looked up when they noticed me, slowly, almost reluctantly pulling apart.

Pedro straightened his posture like a man ready to receive orders. Cam wiped her eyes discreetly.

I lifted a brow. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

Camilla smiled—a real one, with something unspoken in her eyes. “We were just… talking.”

I stepped into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of water on the counter, keeping my tone casual. “If that’s how you two talk, maybe I should’ve asked you to argue months ago.”

That earned a soft chuckle from Camilla and a faint smirk from Pedro, but I didn’t miss the quiet weight between them. Something had shifted.

And I wasn’t angry about it.

In a world where everything was twisted and dangerous, watching two people I cared about find something to hold onto again... was rare.

I leaned back on the counter, crossing my arms, gulping gently from the bottle. 

“I should leave…”

Camilla’s eyes flicked to Pedro, then back to me. “I will check up on your wife and kid…”

She winked walking past me as I smiled.

“You shouldn't run on my account.”

That made her laugh.

And just like that, for a second—just one—we were three people in a kitchen, not mafia heirs, not broken hearts, not soldiers and survivors.

Just family, in all the messy, healing ways that word can mean. 

“That took you long enough.” I turned to Pedro, saying.

“I realized I couldn't keep up.” He briefly answered, and I smiled. I knew it was a matter of time before he gave in. 

“What's the update? What do you have for me?” 

Pedro tensed at my question.

He picked the folder and handed it over to me, his face tightening up. Whatever that was contained a lot, given Pedro’s expression. 

"On second thought, let's deal with this later." I dropped the folder back on the table and walked out.