Chapter 9 - The Vow in the Dark
Marco arrived exactly three minutes later with a heavily armed extraction team. They secured the alley, loaded Lorenzo into a medevac SUV, and rushed him to a private, underground syndicate doctor in Chicago. Elena went with him. She refused to let go of his hand the entire ride.
For three days, Lorenzo floated between life and death. Elena sat by his bedside in the sterile, hidden medical facility. She watched his chest rise and fall. She thought about the man who had let her stepsister wear her dress, and she thought about the man who had thrown himself in front of a bullet for her in a freezing alley. They were the same man, but the fire of losing her had burned away the arrogance, leaving only the devotion.
On the fourth morning, Lorenzo opened his eyes.
Elena was asleep in the chair beside him, her head resting near his arm. He reached out with a trembling hand and touched her hair. She woke instantly.
“You’re awake,” she breathed, tears springing to her eyes.
“You’re still here,” he whispered, sounding amazed.
“I thought you were going to die.”
“I couldn’t.” He swallowed dryly. “I haven’t married you yet.”
Elena let out a wet laugh, resting her forehead against his chest, careful of his bandages. “You are an idiot, Lorenzo DeMarco.”
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“I know.” He stroked her cheek. “I’m retiring, Elena. The syndicate, the businesses... I’m handing it over to Marco. I don’t want the empire. I just want the yellow house. I want you. If you’ll still have me.”
Elena looked into his dark eyes. There were no secrets left. No shadows. No cruel stepfamilies to accommodate. Just them. “On one condition,” she whispered.
