Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Rafael POV

The last body was gone by four a.m., hauled out in a car that left a wet streak on the marble. The cleaners were already scrubbing the blood off the floor, the smell of bleach swimming around the villa.

I stood in the doorway of the library, watching the wall panel slide shut over the safe room stairs, and felt the of her pulse still under my fingertips.

She had walked away from me again, still wanted to avoid me,so she decided to sleep in the guest room on the second floor. She locked her door and turned off the lights. But I could still feel her, the way her hips felt under my palms, breath against my throat, the way she had gone rigid when the first bullet cracked the windows night open.

This wasn't her world, and she didn't deserve to leave in fear. But no matter how I try to convince myself to let her go,I couldn't. She was the only thing that could keep me sane.

I needed a drink or maybe a fight. I needed to know who the hell thought they could put that look on her face and thought he could get away with it before the gunfire started.

Dante found me first.

He leaned in the doorway to the study, with his arms folded, knuckles split and bleeding from fighting. His lip curled up when he saw me.

“House is secure,” he said. “You can stop hovering like a fucking bodyguard now.”

I didn’t answer, just stared at the bruise blooming on his jaw then at the way his eyes flicked past me, toward the stairs where Raelyn had climbed.

My fist was moving before my brain could catch up. It connected with the side of his face, landing a hard and clean thickening thud,the kind of punch that snaps a head sideways.

Dante staggered backwards, caught the doorframe, and came up swinging.

“You piece of shit—” he snarled, driving a shoulder into my gut. We crashed into the desk, wood splintering under our weight.

I tasted blood, but I couldn't tell it was mine or his, but that didn’t matter, I just needed to teach this motherfucker a lesson to never mess with my wife again.

I pinned him against the bookshelf, pressing my forearm across his throat. “What did you say to her?” My voice came out ragged, half growl. “In the hallway. Che cazzo hai detto?" (What the fuck did you say?)

Dante laughed right in my face. “Truth, Rafael. That’s all. She needed to hear it.”

I slammed him harder into the shelves. A row of books came down raining around us.

“She’s dragging us down,” he spat, shoving back, nails raking my neck. “Look at you—hiding her in the panic room like she’s made of glass. You’re weak because of her. The men see it even Rossi saw it! And now we’re bleeding for it.”

I saw red.

My knee drove into his ribs repeatedly until he wheezed, doubled, but kept talking because of course he did, like the fucking piece of shit he was.

“You think love makes you strong?” he rasped. “It makes you stupid. She’s a liability. Always was. Dad would’ve—”

I hit him again until his words turned to grunts, until blood dotted the carpet.

Hands grabbed me from behind I turned to see Lorenzo hauling me off. Mateo came between us, his palms flat on my chest, shoving me back.

“Enough!” Lorenzo barked. His voice boomed through the house. “Both of you—enough.”

Dante slumped against the desk, coughing blood,his one hand pressed to his side. His lip split wide, and his left eye already threatened to shut. He looked at me like I were the stranger in the room.

Mateo’s gaze flicked between us. “We just buried four men right now, and you want to add your brother to the count?”

I shook Lorenzo off, my chest heaving, my knuckles throbbed. Dante’s blood dripped from my fist onto the rug.

“He cornered her,” I said, voice low. “He told her she is nothing but revenge bait. Questa stronza le ha detto di scappare.”

Lorenzo’s face darkened. He looked at Dante. “Is that true?”

Dante wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing red. “Someone had to, and I happened to be that someone. She’s blinding him. You all see it.”

Mateo exhaled through his nose. “She’s his wife, Dante, not a stray dog you can kick out the door.”

“She’s an American Mafia princess!” Dante snapped. “Or was. Did you forget what her family did to us?”

I stepped forward again, ready to slam his head again when Lorenzo caught my arm.

“Stop.” His grip was iron. “He’s baiting you, and you’re letting him.”

I glared at Dante over Lorenzo’s shoulder. “Touch her again...speak to her again—and I’ll finish what I started. Family or not.”

Dante’s laugh was broken,it was obvious he was in pain, but he still laughed. “Family?Right. That’s rich coming from the man who would burn it all down for a pair of pretty eyes.”

Mateo moved to Dante’s side, murmuring something low, probably checking ribs. Dante shoved him off, but weakly.

Lorenzo didn’t let go of me until Dante was upright, limping toward the door. Only then did he release me.

“You’re the head of this house,” he hissed. “Act like it.”

I didn’t answer, just stared at the blood on my hands.

When they were gone, I stood in the mess of the study filled with shattered glass, overturned chairs, the faint smell of Dante’s cologne mixed with copper. My reflection in the broken window looked like a stranger.

This wasn't my usual self. I never acted this way with Dante or my brothers because of a woman, even with Valentina, but Raelyn did it. She changed me.

I thought of Raelyn upstairs, where she locked door with shaking hands. The way she leaned into me in the dark like I was the only one who could save her.

Dante was wrong.

She didn’t make me weak, She made me terrified of losing her, made me more human than before.

And that was worse.

My phone buzzed on the desk, and an unknown number lit up the cracked screen. I snatched it up,my thumb smearing blood across the glass, and answered with a snarl.

There was silence on the line, then a voice I hadn’t heard in years spoke “Tell your wife her father says hello and that the next bullet has her name on it.”