Page 107 of Blood Vows

He’d leaned down. “You love me.” She glared at him, and he smiled down at her.

As soon as Elena signed the final document, Marco took it from her. “That’s it.” Silence fell across the room.

Elena looked around the table. “The Crimson Accord is dissolved,” she said. There was no celebration, no applause, just finality. For Dante, that felt right. Some things ended quietly.

Luca stood. “The family interests transfer according to the new agreement. No blood heirs. No inherited claims. No bond clauses.”

One of the older Romano men frowned. “This weakens us.”

Elena’s gaze hardened. “No. It makes sure no child is ever used as collateral again.” The man opened his mouth, and Dante shifted against the wall. The guy was smart enough to shut his mouth again. Elena glanced back at Dante, and he gave her a look. She looked amused.

The meeting ended twenty minutes later, and once the room cleared, Marco dropped into a chair. “I never want to see another trust agreement.”

Luca laughed. “That’s literally your job.”

“I’m changing careers,” Marco grumbled.

“To what?” Dante asked.

“Something peaceful,” Marco said.

“You’d last three days,” he said.

“Two,” Elena teased.

Marco looked offended. “Very little faith in me.”

“I have the correct amount of faith in you,” Dante said.

Isabella entered carrying champagne, and Elena looked at the bottle. “What are we celebrating?”

“Freedom,” Isabella said. That shut everyone up. Dante watched Elena, and her expression changed. She was finally free, and she deserved to feel the peace that it brought her.

Isabella poured the champagne, and they raised glasses. Luca looked at Elena. “To your father.”

Her eyes filled, but she smiled. “To my father.”

Dante lifted his glass. “To Elena.”

She turned toward him, and Marco groaned. “Oh, here we go.”

Dante ignored him, but Luca didn’t. “What does that mean?”

“She’s terrifying enough already. Stop encouraging her,” Marco grumbled.

Elena laughed, and Dante wrapped an arm around her waist. “I like to be terrifying.”

“I noticed.” He kissed her. Marco made gagging noises, and Isabella threw a napkin at him. For a few seconds, the room felt like family, not blood, but something better. They were her family by choice, and that meant so much more to her.

Hale took a deal two months later. Dante hated it, but Elena expected him to. “You wanted him dead,” she reminded.

They were in Dante’s kitchen, which was her kitchen now too, although neither of them had officially said that yet. Her clothes filled half his closet, her coffee replaced his, and her books had begun invading his shelves. Apparently, that was how cohabitation happened—quietly, and then, all at once.

“I still want him dead,” Dante insisted.

Elena stirred her coffee. “He’ll spend the rest of his life in prison.”

“It’s not the same,” he said.