Page 103 of The Wrong Mafia Bride
"I—" She swallows hard, her eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears. "There is something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you as soon as we got home from the funeral, but I could not—I was so scared and confused and?—"
"Bella, breathe," Gabriel says gently, his hand settling on her shoulder. "Whatever it is, we can handle it. Together."
She looks at each of us in turn, and I can see her gathering courage, steeling herself for something that clearly terrifies her.
"Patrick gave me the bomb at the funeral," she says in a rush. "He cornered me and Erin in her room with a gun to Dolan's back and he told me—" Her voice breaks. "He told me to plant it here. To make sure you were all in the house when it went off. And if you were not dead within thirty-six hours—twenty-seven now—he would kill Erin and Dolan and their unborn baby."
The words land like physical blows, and for a moment I can’t process them, can’t make them make sense.
Patrick wants her to kill us.
Patrick is threatening to murder Erin unless Rosalina commits murder herself.
Patrick handed my pregnant wife a bomb and told her to choose between her sister and the men she loves.
The rage that floods through me is white-hot and immediate, burning away the joy from moments before and replacing it with something cold and lethal.
"Where is the bomb now?" My voice comes out flat, deadly calm.
"My closet." Rosalina's hands are shaking as she pulls the pregnancy test from her pocket. "I hid it behind my shoes. I was not going to—I could not—" Fresh tears spill over. "But then I found out about the baby and I realized I could not kill you even to save Erin, and I don’t know what to do because I love you but I love her too and someone is going to die and it is going to be my fault?—"
"Stop," I say firmly, pulling her back against my chest. "Stop, Flower. Listen to me."
She is shaking now, her whole body trembling with sobs she has clearly been holding back for hours. I hold her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head, and look over her at Gabriel and Luca.
Gabriel's expression has gone cold, that lethal calm settling over him that I recognize from when he is about to kill someone. Luca's jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
"We are going to fix this," I tell Rosalina, pressing a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the scent of her—soap and fear and something uniquely her. "You are not going to lose anyone. Not Erin, not us, not this baby."
"You don’t understand," she chokes out against my chest. "Patrick has men everywhere. He is the head of the Irish mafia now. He knows where Erin is, he has people watching her, and if we?—"
"Rosalina." I tilt her face up to look at me, using my thumbs to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. "Do not worry your pretty little head about Patrick Murphy. I will take care of it."
"But—"
"No." I cut her off gently but firmly. "You have been carrying this alone for too long. Trying to protect everyone, trying to make impossible choices, trying to save your sister while keeping us safe. But you don’t have to do that anymore."
"Dante is right," Gabriel says, moving closer, his hand finding Rosalina's back. "This is our problem now. All of ours."
"And we are very good at solving problems," Luca adds, and there is something dark in his smile now, something that reminds me he is just as capable of violence as the rest of us when necessary. "Especially problems named Patrick Murphy."
I can feel Rosalina trying to argue, trying to take responsibility, trying to carry this weight like she has carried everything else in her life. But I am done watching her sacrifice herself for everyone else's happiness.
She is mine now. Ours. And we protect what is ours.
"Listen to me very carefully," I say, my voice soft but unyielding. "You are pregnant with our child. You have been through hell these last few days—Seamus's funeral, Patrick's threats, making impossible choices. And now you need to rest. You need to take care of yourself and this baby."
"But Erin?—"
"Will be fine." I press another kiss to her forehead, lingering this time. "Gabriel, Luca, and I are going to handle Patrick. We aregoing to make sure Erin and Dolan are safe. We are going to end this threat permanently so you never have to worry about it again."
"How?" The word comes out small, desperate. "He has men, he has resources, he has?—"
"Less than he thinks," Gabriel interrupts. "The Irish have been weakened by Seamus's death. There will be members loyal to Seamus's memory who will not follow Patrick's insane plan to start a war with us. We just need to find them."
"And neutralize Patrick before he can make good on his threats," Luca adds. "Which is something we excel at."
I can see the war happening behind Rosalina's eyes—the desire to trust us, fighting against a lifetime of being the one who protects everyone else, the one who sacrifices, the one who takes responsibility for keeping people safe.
