VITO'S POSSESSION

The Docs

I didn’t sleep.

I sat in the plastic chair next to Vito’s bed all night watching the rise and fall of his chest. Every beep from the heart monitor made me flinch.

He didn’t know about the call.

He couldn’t know. Not with stitches still fresh in his side.

"Stop staring at me like I’m gonna disappear," he mumbled at 4:13AM without opening his eyes.

"You are awake."

"For you? Always." He reached out blindly until his fingers found my hand. Cold. "Come here."

I hesitated. "The nurse said,

"Screw the nurse." He tugged and I climbed onto the bed, careful of the IV and the bandages.

I laid my head on the left side of his chest. The side that wasn’t wrapped. I could hear his heartbeat. Fast. Strong.

He wrapped his arm around me and sighed like he’d been holding his breath all day.

"Scared?" he whispered into my hair.

"Terrified," I admitted. The words felt too big in the dark room. "Of the sit-down. Of Rocco. Of waking up and you’re gone."

His hand came up and threaded through my hair. "Won’t happen."

"You don’t know that."

"I do." He kissed the top of my head. "I’ve been shot before, Lina. I’m annoyingly hard to kill."

I laughed wetly. "Don’t joke."

"I’m not." He was quiet for a second. "I’m scared too."

I looked up at him. "You?"

"Yeah." His thumb brushed my cheek. "Scared I’ll fail you. Scared this war takes you from me. Scared I waited 25 years to find you and I’ll only get 25 days."

"Don’t say that."

"It’s the truth." He met my eyes. "But I’m not running from it anymore. Not with you."

We fell asleep like that.

At 7AM the doctor came in. Old, tired, didn’t care we were cuddling.

"He can leave," the doctor said. "But no heavy lifting. No stress. Come back in 3 days for stitches check."

Vito saluted him from the bed. "Stress is literally my job description, Doc."

We left in a black SUV. 4 cars behind us. Marco in the front passenger seat, jaw tight. 20 men total.

Vito was dressed in all black. Suit jacket hiding the bandages. He looked like a king walking to his own funeral.

"You don’t have to do this," I said as the city blurred past. "We can leave Lagos tonight. Take a flight. Disappear."

Vito turned my hand over in his and kissed my knuckles. "And run forever? Look over our shoulder every day? No, Lina. Today we end it."

"But you’re hurt—"

"I’m fine." He lied. I could see the pain in the way he sat. "And I’m not doing this alone. You’re with me."

The docks smelled like rust, salt, and diesel. Fog rolled between the shipping containers, thick enough to hide in.

Rocco’s men were already there. 15 of them. Lined up like soldiers. Rocco in the center, hands in his pockets, smiling.

He looked like my father. Same dark eyes. Same sharp jaw. It made my stomach turn.

Across from them: The Council. 5 old men in expensive suits. The ones who decided who lived and who died in this city.

Vito squeezed my hand before we got out. "Stay behind me. No matter what. If I say run, you run."

I nodded but my throat was too tight to speak.

We walked.

Every step on the concrete echoed. My heels clicked. His shoes didn’t.

Rocco’s smile widened when he saw me. "Well, well. If it isn’t little Lina Moretti. Grown up so pretty. Your father would be proud."

"Don’t you say his name," Vito said. Voice low. A warning.

Rocco held up both hands. "Peace, nephew. Council’s orders. No blood today."

One of the councilmen, the oldest one with white hair, stepped forward. "Vito Marino. You took a Moretti woman. Against the treaty signed 18 years ago. Explain yourself."

The air went still.

Vito didn’t let go of my hand. He pulled me forward so I was standing beside him, not behind.

"I didn’t take her," he said. Clear. Loud. So everyone could hear. "I claimed her. She’s mine. By choice. By right."

Murmurs. Rocco laughed.

"By right?" Rocco said. "Your family murdered hers. Her family murdered yours. This is a disgrace."

"Then it’s a disgrace I’m willing to die for." Vito turned to me. His eyes were soft when they looked at me. Only for me. "Because I love her."

My breath caught. He said it. In front of everyone. In front of the men who killed my parents.

Rocco’s smile dropped. "Love? From a Marino? You’re delusional, boy."

"I’m in love," Vito corrected. "With the Moretti girl. And I’m done with this war."

The oldest councilman rubbed his chin. "And what do you propose, Marino?"

"Peace." Vito said it like it was simple. "The war ends today. With her. The Moretti name is under Marino protection now. Anyone who touches her answers to me. And to the Council."

Rocco stepped forward. "You can’t just—"

"I can." Vito cut him off. "Unless the Council says otherwise."

All 5 councilmen looked at each other. Whispered.

My heart was pounding so loud I was sure they could hear it.

Finally, the old man nodded. "The Marino boy is right. This blood feud has cost both families too much. Effective immediately, Lina Moretti is under Marino protection. Any aggression toward her is aggression toward the Council."

Relief hit me so hard I swayed.

Vito’s arm came around my waist to steady me.

We won.

Rocco’s face went red. Then white. Then he smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

"Congratulations, niece," he said softly as he passed me. Only I could hear. "Enjoy it while it lasts. See you tonight."

He walked away with his men. The Council dispersed.

Vito watched them go. His jaw was tight.

"What did he say to you?" Vito asked as we got in the car.

"Nothing." I forced a smile. "Just losing with grace."

Vito didn’t believe me. I could see it. But he didn’t push. Not here. Not with Marco listening.

On the ride back, he kept my hand in his the whole time. Like if he let go I’d vanish.

"The war’s over," he said quietly. "You’re safe now."

I nodded.

But "tonight" was ringing in my ears.

---

By 8:30PM I couldn’t breathe in the safe house.

Vito was asleep on the couch, painkillers finally knocking him out. Marco was outside with 4 guards.

I told myself I was just going for air.

I told myself I’d be back in 20 minutes.

I lied to everyone.

The docks were empty. Fog so thick I could barely see 10 feet ahead. My phone flashlight was the only light.

Rocco was waiting by container B-17. Alone. Like he said.

"Took you long enough," he said. "Good girl."

"Where are your men?" My voice shook.

"Don’t need them." He pulled a gun from his jacket. "This is family business."

"Why me? The Council ruled—"

"The Council is old and weak." He aimed the gun at my chest. "And you’re a Moretti. You should be with us. Not with them."

"My parents are dead because of you."

"Your parents were weak too." He c****d the gun. "Last chance, Lina. Come with me, or I put you in the ground next to them."

I backed up. "Don’t—"

The gunshot cracked through the fog.

I screamed and ducked.

But the bullet didn’t hit me.

Vito stepped in front of me.

He grunted. Hard. Stumbled back into me.

"VITO!"

Blood. Again. So much blood. On his shirt. On my hands.

He turned. Looked at me. Even hurt, even bleeding, he checked me first.

"You okay?" he whispered.

"Don’t talk. Don’t— Marco! MARCO!"

Rocco aimed again.

Two shots rang out from behind me.

Marco.

Rocco dropped to the ground. Didn’t get back up.

I was already on my knees, holding Vito’s face. "No. No no no. Not again. Please not again."

"Hey." His hand came up. Shaking. Touched my cheek. Bloody fingers on my skin. "Shh. I’m here."

"You’re bleeding so much." I was sobbing. "Stay with me. Stay with me, Vito. Please."

Sirens in the distance. Shouting. Marco was yelling into a radio.

"Stupid," Vito said, smiling weakly. "You were supposed to run."

"I couldn’t." I pressed his hand to my face. "I love you. I love you so much. Don’t you dare leave me."

"Never." He coughed. Blood on his lips. "Told you... I don’t lose... what’s mine."

His eyes started to close.

"NO! VITO! OPEN YOUR EYES!" I was screaming now. "SOMEONE HELP HIM!"

Marco was there. Pulling me back. "Medic’s coming. Medic’s coming."

But Vito’s eyes were closed.

His chest wasn’t moving.

And the world went black.