Chapter 12 - Blood and Loyalty
Camilla did not flinch beneath Dante’s terrifying glare. Instead, she took two deliberate steps forward, stopping mere inches from Dante’s chest. The resemblance between mother and son was chilling—both carved from iron and unyielding pride.
"I do not doubt her courage, Dante," Camilla said softly, her voice carrying the weight of decades spent surviving among vipers. "Nor do I doubt your devotion to this child. But you forget who we are. Salvatore Moretti was a pawn. Julianna’s handlers were pawns. Do you truly believe a dirty FBI agent orchestrated the fall of the two largest families in the country on his own?"
Dante’s eyes narrowed into slits. "Speak plainly, Mother."
"Julianna didn't run from Salvatore," Camilla revealed, her voice dropping into a grave whisper. "She ran from *The Syndicate of the Seven*. The old-world families in Sicily and Geneva. They funded Salvatore. They bought Agent Miller. And now that you have publicly humiliated the federal government and slaughtered Salvatore’s heirs, they see you as a rogue king who must be extinguished."
Camilla finally turned her gaze to me, her emerald eyes softening slightly, carrying a solemn, somber warning.
"You love my son, child," Camilla said to me. "I can see it in the way your pulse beats in your throat, in the way you hold Sophia’s hand as if she were your own flesh and blood. But loving Dante Russo is not a fairytale. It is a war without end. If you wear his name, you wear a target on your back."
I swallowed the lump in my throat, but I didn't step back. I looked Camilla directly in the eyes, standing tall and unshakeable.
"I didn't choose Dante because he was safe, Contessa," I said, my voice ringing clear and steady through the sunroom. "I chose him because he would burn the world down to protect this little girl. And I would burn the ashes alongside him. If your enemies come for our family, they will find that I am not a victim. I am Sophia’s mother."
Silence fell over the room.
Dante looked at me, his eyes blazing with an unholy mixture of adoration, awe, and fierce possessiveness. He took my hand and pulled me against his side, intertwining our fingers where everyone could see.
May you like
A slow, begrudging smile curved Camilla’s lips. She tapped her cane against the marble floor once.
"Good," Camilla said softly. "At least my granddaughter will be raised by a lioness, not a sheep."