The Price
1076 Words
I woke up to the sound of machines beeping.
For a second I didn’t know where I was. The room was dark except for the glow from the monitors. My neck hurt from sleeping in the chair.
Then I remembered.
Vito.
Blood.
Gunshot.
My head snapped up.
He was still asleep. Pale. But breathing. The bandages on his chest were clean. No new blood.
I exhaled. I didn’t know I was holding my breath.
"Morning, Moretti."
His voice was rough. Tired.
My heart jumped. "You’re awake."
Vito’s eyes opened. Brown. Dark. Focused on me immediately. Like I was the only thing in the room.
"Did you sleep?" he asked.
"In the chair." I stood and moved to the bed. Careful not to touch the IV. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got shot." A ghost of a smile. "You look terrible."
"Thanks." I sat on the edge of the bed. "You look worse."
We stared at each other. The machines beeped between us.
"You should have stayed in the safe room," he said finally.
"And let you die alone?" I shook my head. "No."
His hand moved under the blanket. Found mine. His fingers were cold.
"Lina."
"What."
"I’m sorry."
"Don’t." Tears burned. "Don’t you dare apologize for getting shot saving me."
"I’m not." He squeezed my hand. "I’m sorry for dragging you into this. For making you mine. For the price you’re paying."
I looked down at our hands. His was big. Scarred. Mine was small and shaking.
"The price is you living," I whispered. "That’s all I care about."
The door opened. Marco walked in with coffee and a grim face.
"Morning, Boss. Morning, Miss Moretti."
"Marco." Vito’s voice went flat. "Report."
Marco glanced at me. Hesitated.
"Say it," Vito said.
"We lost three men last night." Marco set the coffee down. "Rocco’s men retreated at 3AM. But they hit two of our warehouses. Took product. Left a message."
"What message."
Marco pulled out his phone. Showed a picture.
On the warehouse wall, spray painted in red:
`MARINO DOGS. HAND HER OVER OR THE NEXT BODY IS YOURS.`
My stomach dropped.
"Her" meant me.
Vito didn’t react. His face went completely blank. The Don mask.
"Clean it up," he said. "Pay the families. Double."
"Already done." Marco paused. "Boss... Rocco called the council. He’s calling for a sit-down. Tomorrow. Says it’s to ‘avoid further bloodshed’."
Vito closed his eyes. "Of course he is."
"What are we doing?" I asked. My voice was small.
Both men looked at me.
Vito opened his eyes. "We’re going."
"No." The word came out before I could stop it. "Vito, no. It’s a trap."
"Probably." He sat up a little. Winced. "Which is why I’m going."
"With a bullet in you?"
"With you." He looked at me. "You’re coming too."
Marco choked. "Boss—"
"She’s coming." Vito cut him off. "If Rocco wants to talk about the Moretti girl, then the Moretti girl will be there. To speak for herself."
"That’s insane," Marco said. "He’ll kill her on sight."
"Not if I’m there." Vito’s grip on my hand tightened. "Not if the whole council sees that she’s under my protection."
I felt sick. "Vito, I can’t—"
"You can." He turned to me fully. "Lina. Listen to me. We can run. We can hide. But they’ll always come for you. For us. The only way this ends is if we end it. Face to face."
"What if they—"
"They won’t." His thumb brushed my knuckles. "I won’t let them."
Marco cursed and walked to the window. "This is suicide."
"This is war," Vito corrected. "And I’m done hiding."
The room went quiet.
Finally, I nodded. Once. "Okay."
Vito’s shoulders dropped like he’d been holding his breath. "Okay."
Marco turned around. "Fine. But I’m bringing 20 men. And if anything goes wrong, I’m shooting first and asking questions later."
"Deal." Vito looked exhausted but satisfied. "Now get out. I need to talk to her."
Marco left. Closed the door softly.
Vito shifted and hissed in pain.
"Don’t move," I said, panicking.
"I have to." He reached up and cupped my face. "Look at me."
I did.
"I’m scared," I admitted. The words broke out of me. "I’ve never been to a sit-down. I’ve never— My father used to say they’re where people disappear."
"I know." His thumb brushed under my eye. "And I’m sorry you have to see this side of me."
"I don’t care about that side." I leaned into his hand. "I care that you come back from it."
A soft laugh. "I plan to."
He pulled me down until my forehead rested against his.
"The price of being with me is high, Lina," he whispered. "Blood. Fear. War. If you want to walk away, now’s the time. I’ll let you. I’ll hate it, but I’ll let you."
My chest hurt.
"I’m not walking away," I said. "Not after last night. Not after you said it."
"Said what."
"I love you." I said it clearer this time. "I love you, Vito Marino. Even if it gets me killed."
His breath hitched. "God, Lina."
He kissed me. Soft. Chaste. Because of the stitches. But it felt like everything.
When he pulled back we were both shaking.
"Tomorrow," he said. "We face them together."
"Together," I repeated.
The nurse came in then to check his vitals. Kicked me out to "let the patient rest."
I sat in the hallway. Alone.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
I almost didn’t answer.
I did.
A voice. Male. Smooth. Older.
"Miss Moretti."
My blood went cold. "Who is this."
"Your uncle sends his regards." Rocco. "And a message. Come to the docks alone tonight. Or I start killing Marino men one by one. Starting with the one in that hospital bed."
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped it.
They knew where he was.
They knew I was here.
And now I had a choice.
Go. And maybe die.
Stay. And watch Vito die instead.
The door to Vito’s room opened. He was watching me from the bed.
"Who was that?" he asked.
I looked at him. Pale. Hurt. Mine.
And I lied.
"Nobody," I said. "Wrong number."
Because I couldn’t tell him.
Because if I did, he’d never let me go to the docks.
And if I didn’t go...
Tomorrow, the price would be his life.
- Writer
