Chapter 9 - THE ASHES AND THE DAWN
Three men in tactical black were handcuffed on the veranda, guarded by federal marshals and Marco’s remaining security detail.
Salvatore walked back through the shattered front entrance of his mansion, his shirt stained with dust and smoke, a small graze along his left forearm leaking a thin line of blood.
Iris was waiting for him in the foyer. She took one look at his arm, dropped her medical bag, and immediately pulled a roll of sterile gauze and antiseptic from it.
“Sit down on the stairs,” she ordered, her surgeon’s tone absolute.
Salvatore obediently sat on the bottom wooden step, looking up at her as she knelt before him, her nimble fingers expertly cleaning the scrape on his arm.
“You’re bleeding,” she said quietly.
“It’s nothing,” Salvatore replied, his eyes never leaving her face. “The threat is neutralized. The leadership in Palermo has been notified through back channels that if any of them ever send another man to New Orleans, I won't just kill them—I’ll erase their history.”
Iris applied a strip of medical tape over the gauze, pressing it down firmly. Then she looked up, meeting his gaze.
“And us?” she asked softly. “What happens now?”
Salvatore reached out, his warm hand cupping the back of her neck, pulling her gently toward him until their foreheads rested together.
“Now,” Salvatore whispered, “we pack our bags. We leave the city, the docks, and the shadows behind us. I’m stepping down. Marco and the board can run the legitimate shipping lines. We’re going somewhere with mountains, clean air, and no ghosts.”
Iris smiled, a profound sense of peace washing over her. “What about Gia?”
May you like
“Gia already packed her stuffed rabbit yesterday,” Salvatore said with a faint, genuine smile. “She told me she wants a doctor in the family so she can help people the way you helped her.”
Iris let out a soft laugh, leaning in to press her lips softly against his.
