Chapter 10 - The Edge of Forever
The morning sun finally crested the Manhattan skyline, painting the clouds above the East River in brilliant shades of rose gold and violent amber. The blizzard had passed, leaving New York blanketed in six inches of untouched, sparkling snow.
The black Maybach sat idling at the edge of the pier, its exhaust curling into the freezing morning air. Bernardo stood fifty yards away near the security perimeter, giving them complete privacy.
Mia leaned against the hood of the car, holding a paper cup of hot black coffee that Bernardo had procured from an all-night diner. Her uniform was ruined, her hair was a tangled mess from the wind, and her body ached with deep, bone-weary exhaustion. Yet, as she looked across the river at the towering glass spires of the city, she felt lighter than she had in years.
Enzo stood beside her, his coat open against the morning chill, his hands resting on the iron railing of the pier. He looked at the city he had conquered twice, but his thoughts were clearly miles away from the docks.
“A courier arrived at Presbyterian thirty minutes ago,” Enzo said quietly, breaking the silence.
Mia looked up, her heart leaping into her throat. “And?”
“The Swiss pharmaceutical firm received full payment for the next ten years of Leo’s treatment,” Enzo said, turning to look down at her. “A private trust has been established in his name. It covers his medical care, his schooling, and a townhouse on the Upper East Side within walking distance of the hospital. You will never have to scrape together twenty-two hundred dollars again, Mia.”
Tears welled in Mia’s hazel eyes, hot and sudden. She looked down at the paper cup in her hands, watching the steam rise. “Why? You already won your war. Dante is gone. The Commission bent the knee. You don't need to give me a fortune.”
“I don't give fortunes as charity,” Enzo said, his voice dropping into that deep, intimate register that made her breath catch. “I pay my debts. And what you gave me cannot be measured in gold.”
He stepped closer, closing the distance between them until the hem of his coat brushed against hers. The morning breeze caught a strand of dark hair, blowing it across her cheek. Enzo reached out with slow, deliberate gentleness, tucking the hair behind her ear, his calloused fingertips lingering on the soft skin of her jaw.
“You have a choice now, Mia Vance,” Enzo murmured, his gray eyes searching hers with raw, unfiltered intensity.
“A choice?” she whispered.
“The car can take you to Connecticut,” Enzo said. “You can go to Leo. You can live in that Upper East Side townhouse, safe, wealthy, and completely free from this life. No one will ever approach you. No one will ever ask you about what happened in the Catskills. You can have the ordinary, peaceful life you were fighting for.”
Mia felt a strange ache in her chest. “And the other choice?”
Enzo didn't answer immediately. He looked at her mouth—the mouth that had pressed against his in the dark, the mouth that had pulled him back from the grave.
“The other choice is you stay,” Enzo said, his hand sliding down to clasp hers, his long fingers intertwining with her smaller ones with an unyielding, possessive grip. “You stay at my side as the Queen of this empire. The world I live in is brutal, dangerous, and merciless. But I will tear down the sky before I let harm touch you.”
Mia looked down at their joined hands. She thought of her quiet, exhausting life—the smell of greasy diner floors, the terror of unpaid bills, the endless gray struggle just to survive. Then she looked up into the silver-gray eyes of the most dangerous man in North America, seeing not a monster, but a man who would burn the world to keep her safe.
Suddenly, Enzo’s encrypted satellite phone vibrated sharply against his chest.
He didn't break eye contact with Mia as he pulled the device from his coat and answered, clicking the speaker button.
“Speak,” Enzo commanded.
Bernardo’s voice crackled through the speaker, urgent and sharp. “Don Enzo. We have a situation at the port of Newark. A container ship from Palermo just docked without clearance. Salvatore Valetti’s brother didn't attend the Commission meeting—he was on that ship. They’ve offloaded fifty heavy contractors, and they’re moving toward Manhattan.”
Enzo’s eyes narrowed, the deadly mafia lord resurfacing in an instant. “How long until they reach the city center?”
“Twenty minutes, boss,” Bernardo replied. “And they know the boy is being moved to Connecticut. They’re splitting their forces.”
Enzo ended the call with a snap of his wrist.
He didn't panic. He looked at Mia, his expression completely unreadable, the weight of an imminent, bloody war hanging in the cold morning air between them.
The Maybach’s rear door was already open. The engine purred, ready to carry her north to safety, or carry them both south into the fire.
“The car is waiting, Mia,” Enzo said softly, his hand remaining extended toward her. “Which way are you going?”
May you like
Mia looked at the open car door, then looked down the long, empty road leading toward Manhattan where the sirens were already beginning to howl in the distance.
She took a deep breath, raised her chin, and stepped forward.
