Page 51 of Forgotten Vows

He's not the boy I loved. He's a man who kills people. A man who runs a criminal empire. A man who kidnapped me and my son.

But he's also the man who sits on the floor with Matteo and builds Lego spaceships. Who makes sure there's food Matteo likes in the kitchen. Who checks on him at night to make sure he's sleeping okay.

I don't know if both can exist in the same person. I've never seen it before, and I don't know how to believe in it now.

—

I'min the kitchen making ham sandwiches for myself and Matteo to take up to the rooftop pool later in the afternoon when I hear a sudden, sharp noise that sends me dropping to the floor. I freeze, my heart slamming against my ribs as my brain tries to process what just happened.

Then I hear more gunfire, rapid and relentless, the sound of automatic weapons tearing through the air. I can hear shouting, men's voices barking orders, and underneath it all, the high-pitched wail of the building's alarm system.

"Matteo." His name tears out of my throat, and I come unstuck, bolting up from the floor, my bare feet slapping against the hardwood as I race toward the movie room where I left him watching TV.

He's not there.

"Matteo!" I scream his name, panic clawing at my chest. I can hear more gunfire, closer this time, and the sound of glass shattering somewhere. "Matteo, where are you?"

"Mama!" His voice is high and terrified, coming from the hallway, and I run toward it, my vision tunneling, my entire world narrowing to the sound of my son's fear.

I find him in his bedroom, pressed against the wall beside his bed, his hands over his ears and his face streaked with tears. I drop to my knees in front of him, reaching for him, and he throws himself into my arms, sobbing.

"It's okay," I whisper, even though it's not. I can still hear the gunfire and the shouting, and that means nothing is okay. "It's okay, baby, I've got you. I've got you."

Another explosion of sound rocks the building, and Matteo screams, his fingers digging into my shoulders. I pull him closer, wrapping my body around his, trying to shield him from whatever's happening out there.

The door slams open, and I look up to see Lachlan, his gun drawn, his face hard and focused. There's blood on his shirt, splattered across his chest, and I don't know if it's his or someone else's. "Stay here," he says, his voice clipped and commanding. "Don't move. Don't open the door for anyone but me."

"What's happening?" My voice is shaking. I hate how small and helpless I sound.

"Gio." The name is a curse on his lips. "He's made his move, and he's hitting us hard. I need to get to my men. Lock the door behind me. Don't open it until I come back."

He's gone before I can respond, the door slamming shut behind him, and I'm left alone with Matteo, the sound of gunfire echoing through the penthouse.

I don't know how long we stay like that. Time loses meaning when you're waiting to die, and I feel sure that's what's coming for us. If not right now, then soon, when Gio finds us and drags us back. Maybe not for Matteo, but what Gio will have planned for him is almost worse. And for me…

Whatever he has planned for me won't be quick, I'm sure of that.

The gunfire eventually stops, replaced by an eerie silence that leaves my ears ringing. I can hear voices in the hallway, then footsteps, and the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor. Matteo is still crying, his face buried in my shoulder, and I'm whispering nonsense to him, trying to keep him calm, trying to keepmyself from falling apart. I have no idea who the footsteps belong to, if they're Lachlan and his men or Gio and his, and I won't know until it's too late.

When the door opens again, I flinch back, my arms tightening around Matteo, but it's Lachlan. He's covered in blood now, his face grim, and there's a hard anger in his eyes that makes my stomach drop. "It's over," he says, and his voice is exhausted. "They're gone."

"Is anyone—" I can't finish the question.

"Three of my men are injured. One's critical." He runs a hand through his hair, leaving a streak of blood behind. "But we held them off. They didn't get inside."

I nod, my throat too tight to speak. I notice Matteo has gone still in my arms. Too still.

"Matteo?" I pull back, trying to see his face, and that's when I see the blood. It's soaking through his shirt, spreading across his side, and my brain can't process it at first. Can't understand what I'm seeing.

"Matteo." My voice is high and panicked, and I pull his shirt up with shaking hands. There's a large piece of glass embedded in his skin under his ribs, and I realize with horror that I was so terrified that I didn't see it, and he was so scared that he didn't tell me. "Matteo, what happened?"

"I was scared," he mumbles. "I had my drink in the movie room, and I dropped it because of all the noise. And I ran to get you. I was scared, and I fell… it hurts, Mama…"

"Lachlan—" I gasp his name, horror flooding through me. It's not a direct result of what just happened… children have accidents all the time, but I can't help connecting it in my head. Matteo was terrified again, because we were under attack, and he was hurt. And I didn't even see because I was so panicked. "He's bleeding—" I can feel myself going pale, my hands shaking, and Lachlan presses one palm to my shoulder before he reaches for our son.

"Let me see." His voice is calm as he examines the wound. "It's not deep. He's going to be okay. We need to get him to a doctor, but he's going to be okay, Adriana. I promise. I'm going to take care of him."

Matteo is crying again, his face pale and twisted with pain, and when Lachlan tries to lift him, he screams. "No! Don't touch me! Get away from me!"