Giancarlo spoke first, his voice dropping into that low, assured register he reserved for promises he intended to keep. "Rosalia, don't say that. You're extraordinary. Beautiful. Sharp. There is a future waiting for you that you can't even see yet." He straightened the cuff of his jacket, a gesture so casual it almost disguised the weight of what came next. "When this is over, when you've proven yourself, I'll speak to my father. I'll have him place you as an advisor in our operations. A position of real authority."
Salvatore cut in before Giancarlo had finished, his jaw tight with competitive heat. "No. Come to us. The Monreale family will give you more. A higher seat. Better protection. Whatever you want, Rosalia." His dark eyes burned. "Whatever you want, I will hand it to you myself."
They argued over her like two dogs over a bone, their voices rising, each trying to outbid the other in devotion. I stood apart and watched, and the sadness that moved through me was old and quiet, a grief that had already been mourned.
After all these years of knowing me. After a lifetime of shared blood and shared bread and sworn oaths whispered in the dark of childhood bedrooms, neither of them had ever once made me such a promise. Neither had ever looked at me with that desperate, aching need to give. The realization settled into my bones with the finality of a coffin lid.
Pretended love could never match the raw devotion that poured from the heart unbidden. They had performed loyalty to me like actors reciting lines. For Rosalia, they simply burned.
I turned to leave. Giancarlo noticed the shift before Salvatore did. His hand shot out and closed around mine, his grip firm, his expression carefully arranged into something that might have passed for concern if I hadn't known what lived behind those pale eyes.
"Seraphina." His thumb traced a slow circle against my wrist. A gesture of possession disguised as tenderness. "Don't misunderstand. We're good to Rosalia because she's yours. Because you brought her into our world. Everything we do for her, we do for you."
Salvatore moved closer, his broad hand coming down on the top of my head, ruffling my hair the way he had done since we were children. As though I were still a little girl. As though I could still be soothed by the rough warmth of his palm.