Chapter 188 Rafael
The main book ended at the wedding, the following chapters are bonus chapters- Christmas special.
I don’t feel the cold.
This is how I know that I have moved beyond the point of restraint.
Antonio's house stands too quietly on the block, his lights ablaze as though everything were right with the world, though he'd just offered wolves to my door and pointed them towards my wife and child. The crunch of my boots on the snow is almost deafening in the quiet. Rocco comes around from the other side of the car without a word, his coat black, his face impassive.
Good.
Fear functions better when it has an audience.
The door swings open before we even get a chance to knock. Antonio has always had a keen sense when he is near danger, too keen to be innocent. His eyes dart from me back to Rocco, and then back again.
“Rafael,” he begins, his smile more of an effort than a habit. “This is unexpected.”
I go in without responding. Rocco follows and closes the door slowly behind me. The sound of the lock clicking home is final.
Antonio swallows.
“You shouldn’t be surprised,” I repeat calmly, peeling off my gloves one finger at a time. “You’ve been busy.”
He weakly gestures toward the sitting room. “If this is about the money…”
I grab him by his collar and throw him against the wall so forcefully that it rattles his picture frames.
Rocco doesn’t move. He doesn’t have to.
“This is about my wife,” I whisper. “And my child.”
Antonio gasps for air, exhaling breathlessly. "Rafael, hear me…Valenti is leaning heavily on all of us. I had no choice."
I bend in, forehead almost touching his. “You always have a choice. You just made the wrong one.”
My fist clenches. I dig my fingers into his throat just short of the pain of the word. Not killing. Not yet. Pain teaches better when it's withheld.
“You have allowed them to think they had the right to hold us hostage,” I say to him.
"You have allowed them to think my child was only leverage to use against us.”
His gaze flicks to Rocco once more, with desperation spreading in him. “I never said…”
“You didn’t have to,” Rocco interrupts gently from behind me. His voice is soothing, almost bored, and that frightens more people to death than any shouting ever could.
“They wouldn’t have sent that message if you hadn’t opened the door by associating with them,” he continues.
Antonio trembles.
I release him suddenly. He drops to his knees, gasping. I kneel in front of him, pinning him to look at me.
“This is how it’s going to end,” I say. “You clean it up.”
He nods furiously. “I will. I swear. I'll fix it.”
“You'll do one thing,” I correct. “One. And you'll do it perfectly.”
I stand, adjusting my coat. “You're going to pay every cent back to the Valenti. And keep my wife’s business away from theirs forever.”
“And if I can’t?” he whispers.
I look at him, hollow-eyed. “I’ll make sure I kill you myself..”
Rocco takes a step forward, looming, his shadow swallowing Antonio whole. “And we promise you ,” he continues quietly, “you’ll due slowly.”
This sends him.
We leave him there, on his knees, shaking, the weight of his own decisions finally crushing him.
The ride home is silent again. It takes a few blocks for my hands to actually shake as adrenaline dissipates, but the rage simmers in my chest. I squeeze the wheel tighter, pushing it back down.
Rosalia must never see this part of me.
As we come back to the estate, I give Rocco the look and he understands all of it. He nods and goes inside, leaving me alone.
I find Rosalia in the sitting room, snuggled up on the couch with a blanket looped around her shoulders, reading some romance novel she has been occupying herself with lately
. She glances up at me as I enter.
“You're back late,” she says.
I walk across the room in three strides and kneel before her, taking her hands in mine. They are warm. They are real. They are safe.
“Are you okay?” she asks, instantly concerned.
“I am,” I say, and for once I mean it. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” she admits. “Hungry.”
I smile faintly. "Sounds familiar."
I kiss her knuckles, then her palm, then my forehead presses against her knees. My hand wanders, to her belly.
“I brought donuts,” I tell her. “The kind you like.”
Her eyes shine. “You didn’t have to.”
“I want to.”
I help her up, lead her gently into the dining room, pull out her chair. Every action is deliberate. Controlled. Loving.
She watches me as I position myself alongside her. “You’re hovering,” she says.
‘Am I?’ I ask calmly, serving her a bowl of soup.
“Yes,” she answers with a smile. “But I don’t mind.”
Good.
I push a strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her temple. “You don't have to worry about anything, though. I've got you. Always.”
Trustingly, she leans on me.
And I swear, anyone who seeks to threaten this peace, that they will surely get what they deserve.
—————
Night clears my thoughts.
It always has. It’s been a few days and I’ve not heard from Antonio about his debt being cleared yet.
Rosalia is asleep when I leave our room, curled on her side with one hand lying atop her belly, her breathing slow and regular. I stand at the door for longer than I should, watching as her chest rises and falls, committing this to memory. This, is why nothing else matters.
I shut the door silently and went downstairs.
The room is dimmed low, the fireplace low and dark. I pour myself a drink I won’t finish and sit behind the desk, fingers tented while I sit there staring at nothing for a good long while. Antonio’s face pops into mind, sweat-slicked and defiant until it wasn’t and yet still believing someone else would pay for his crimes.
He’s wrong.
I'm not cleaning up someone else's mess for no charge. Not with the price tag bleeding into my family.
I reach for my phone and make one phone call.
“Go see Antonio,” I say when my man answers.
“Tonight.”
Pause. He recognizes my tone.
“Don’t kill him,” I go on. “Don’t cripple him. I want him walking. I want him breathing.”
"And the message?" my man asks.
I lean back, my eyes glinting with a cold light. “That the Valenti debt gets paid. Every cent. Quickly. And that next time, I won’t send someone else.”
I hang up and finally take a drink.
By the time Rocco and Riccardo arrive, the fire is lower, so is the hum of the house. Rocco stands by the window, arms crossed, as if challenging trouble to make an appearance, while Riccardo is pacing, his eyes fixed on the grounds.” “It seems you’re nervous,”
My phone vibrates.
I don’t say anything. I only project the video to the screen.
Antonio's living room looks smaller than it did before. The furniture is overturned. A trace of blood is streaked along the side of his face. Not much blood, yet enough blood for the effect it has. Antonio's eyes are wide and unfocused. Fear is etched deep enough on his face for once. My man's voice is steady and explained in terms that Antonio could have grasped long ago.
He takes a slow breath. “Damn.”
Rocco doesn’t respond. His jaw clenches infinitesimally.
The video ends with Antonio nodding frantically, hands shaking as he repeats, ‘I'll pay. I'll pay. I'll pay.’ As if trying to assure himself, ‘I'll pay. I'll fix it.”
I turn off the screen.
“That,” I say calmly, “should motivate him.”
Riccardo finally turns to me. “And if it doesn't?"
I hold his gaze unblinking. "Then it will not be Valenti who kills him."
Silence falls.
Rocco moves closer to the desk. “Are you sure this isn’t going to come back on Rosalia?”
“I’m sure,” I answer. “Because if it does, there won’t be a circle left to close.”
Riccardo lets out a sharp breath, half approval, half warning. “You’ve gone soft since marriage.”
I look at him, truly see him.
“No,” I murmur. “I’ve gone precise.”
Another silence. He nods.
I stand, smoothing my jacket. "Antonio pays his debt. Valenti backs off. Or I burn every bridge they think protects them."
As I climb back upstairs, the image of Rosalia asleep reappears before me, gentle and unprotected. This contrast calms my shaking hands.
Let Antonio be afraid. Fear is what keeps people alive long enough to make the right choice. And if he doesn’t, well he will see.