Bound by the Mafia

CHAPTER FIVE: THE EDGE OF LOYALTY

"Where is he?!"

I didn’t mean to scream. But the blood still wet on the marble floor made it impossible to breathe calmly.

“Alessandro’s alive,” Giovanni said, gripping my shoulders. “But barely.”

“Show me,” I said, voice shaking.

He didn’t move.

“Giovanni, don’t you dare play soldier with me—show me where he is!”

That finally cracked him. He cursed under his breath, pulled me by the wrist, and led me through the wrecked hall.

The windows were blown open. Gunpowder and metal hung in the air like ghosts. Two men lay dead in the entryway. I didn’t ask who they were.

Alessandro was in the downstairs study, slouched on the leather chaise, shirt torn open, blood streaking down his ribs.

Isabella stood nearby with a first-aid kit she clearly wasn’t using.

“I told you to stay in your room,” she snapped when she saw me.

I ignored her and dropped to my knees beside him.

“Alessandro,” I whispered. “Look at me.”

His eyes opened slowly. Bleary. Black and burning.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he muttered.

“You shoved me out of the way. I wasn’t going to let that be the last thing you ever did.”

He tried to sit up. I pressed him back gently.

“Don’t be stupid,” I whispered. “Let me help you.”

He didn’t resist.

Giovanni handed me the gauze. “The bullet missed anything vital, but he lost too much blood.”

“Then help him,” I snapped.

Isabella leaned in. “If you want to play nurse, fine. But he needs rest—not your emotions.”

I turned to her, voice ice.

“You had one job: secure the perimeter. He nearly died because you were too busy spying on me.”

Her face cracked for a second. Just long enough for me to know I’d hit bone.

Alessandro winced. “Both of you. Shut up.”

And for once… we listened.

"You should’ve let me die."

He said it hours later. The house was quiet. Most of the blood was cleaned from the floor. Alessandro lay on his bed, shirtless, bandaged, staring at the ceiling like it was counting his sins.

“You don’t mean that,” I whispered.

He turned his head slowly. “You don’t know what I deserve.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed. “Then tell me.”

He studied me. “You think this—what you feel—is real?”

“I don’t know what I feel,” I admitted. “But I know it’s not fake.”

He closed his eyes, voice low and sharp. “I’ve killed men for less than what I’m feeling right now.”

“What are you afraid of, Alessandro?”

“That you’ll be my weakness. And someone will use you to destroy me.”

I leaned in, voice trembling but sure. “Then let me be your strength.”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

His hand reached for mine, hesitated, then held it.

Not tight. Just real.

And in that silence, something old between us shattered.

But something older began to form.

Outside, a single gunshot echoed in the dark.

And everything changed again.

“He’s Not Dead Yet”

"Get out of the way, Isa!" Giovanni’s voice exploded from the foyer.

I rushed downstairs barefoot, pulse wild.

She stood in front of the study door, arms crossed, blocking three armed men—Alessandro’s men.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Internal sweep,” Giovanni growled. “Someone in this house let those gunmen in last night.”

My heart thudded. “You think it was her?”

Isabella laughed. “Of course he does. He’s always blamed me for everything.”

“You had access to the perimeter codes,” Giovanni shot back. “And the cameras were looped—only someone close could pull that off.”

“I’ve served this family longer than you,” she hissed.

“And now you’re trying to kill it?”

“Stop!” I shouted, stepping between them. “This isn’t justice. It’s revenge.”

Giovanni looked at me. “This isn’t your fight.”

“It is now.”

Silence stretched. Then Alessandro’s voice, hoarse and deadly, echoed from upstairs.

“Let her in.”

We all froze.

He stood at the top of the stairs. Pale. Wounded. Alive.

“Valeria,” he said. “Bring Isabella to me.”

Isabella’s face drained. “Alessandro—”

“I want the truth. And I want it now.”

Giovanni stepped aside. I took her arm.

She didn’t resist.

But I saw it in her eyes.

Something uncoiled. Something dangerous.

"Everyone has a price, Valeria."

Isabella said it without blinking. Without shame.

Alessandro sat opposite her in the old wine cellar, candlelight flickering over bruised stone and too many secrets.

“You sold me out?” he asked quietly.

She didn’t blink. “I traded you.”

“To whom?”

She shrugged. “Does it matter? They want your empire. You got sloppy. And she—” her gaze snapped to me “—made you soft.”

Alessandro’s fist clenched. “You tried to kill me.”

“I tried to save you,” she spat. “From yourself.”

He leaned in, wounded but steel. “You think I’ll forgive this?”

She smiled. “I don’t need forgiveness. I need you gone.”

He turned to me.

“Leave us.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Valeria,” he warned.

“She’s right. Everyone has a price. So tell me what yours is.”

Isabella’s gaze flickered. “You really want to know?”

“I want to know everything,” I said.

She rose slowly. “The man your father tried to bury six years ago—he’s back. And he’s coming for all of us.”

Alessandro’s face went white.

“You’re lying.”

“Check the tunnels. Check the old accounts. He’s alive.”

Alessandro stepped back like she’d slapped him.

I caught his arm. “Who is she talking about?”

His voice broke as he said the name.

“Elio Ricci.”