Chapter 9 - The Promise at the Coast
Three weeks later.
The icy blue waves of the Atlantic Ocean crashed rhythmically against the rugged black rocks of the Maine coastline. The air tasted of salt, pine, and fresh, untamed freedom.
A small wooden cottage sat perched on the cliffside, smoke drifting lazily from its stone chimney into the crisp morning sky.
I stood on the wraparound wooden porch, wearing a thick knit sweater, watching the sunrise paint the horizon in shades of soft pink and brilliant gold.
Behind me, the screen door creaked open.
My father, Lorenzo Vance—looking healthier, thicker, and ten years younger than the frail man I had nursed in Brooklyn—stepped out onto the porch holding two steaming mugs of coffee.
"You're up early, kiddo," Lorenzo smiled, handing me a mug.
"Couldn't sleep," I smiled back, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic. "Still feels like a dream."
Lorenzo leaned his elbows against the wooden railing, looking out over the water. "Michael's men swept the last of Carmine's territory in Manhattan yesterday. Carmine is in federal custody, and Regina is facing twenty years for fraud and attempted murder. It's really over, Aurora."
I looked down at my left hand.
On my ring finger sat a simple, elegant platinum band set with a single, radiant-cut diamond—a gift Michael had given me three days ago before leaving to finalize the Commission's surrender.
"He kept every promise he made to you, Dad," I murmured softly.
"He kept a lot more than that," Lorenzo laughed gently, patting my shoulder. "Michael Moretti doesn't answer to anyone, Aurora. He didn't just save my life... he burned his own empire to protect yours."
The sound of a heavy engine echoed up the dirt driveway behind the cottage.
A black SUV came to a stop near the pine trees.
The door popped open, and a six-year-old boy in a red winter coat exploded out of the backseat, running as fast as his small legs could carry him toward the porch.
"AURORA!" Zach yelled, his high-pitched voice ringing out clear and bright across the coastal air.
A burst of pure joy exploded in my chest. I set my coffee mug down on the railing and ran down the wooden steps, dropping to my knees on the frosty grass just as Zach hurled his small body into my arms.
"I missed you! I missed you!" Zach giggled, wrapping his little arms tightly around my neck and kissing my cheek.
"I missed you too, sweetie!" I laughed, hugging him tight, burying my face in his soft dark hair.
Footsteps crunched against the snow behind him.
I looked up.
Michael stood at the edge of the grass, wearing a long black coat, the cold ocean wind rustling his dark, silver-streaked hair. His slate-gray eyes were fixed entirely on me, holding a warmth that no mob boss on the East Coast had ever been permitted to see.
"Did you bring the bonds?" I teased, standing up while holding Zach on my hip.
Michael walked over, stopping inches away. He reached out, his thick fingers tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his lips curving into a rare, breathtakingly handsome smile.
"I don't care about the bonds, Aurora," Michael said softly, his low baritone wrapping around my heart like a warm blanket. "I came to collect my fiancée."
Zach puffed out his chest, looking between the two of us proudly. "See, Dad? I told you she was our princess! The pinky promise worked!"
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Michael laughed—a deep, booming, genuine sound that echoed out over the crashing waves below. He reached around us, wrapping his massive arms around both me and Zach, pulling us tight against his broad chest.
"Yes, it did, buddy," Michael whispered, dipping his head to capture my lips in a soft, promise-filled kiss under the golden morning light. "It sure did."
