Chapter 2 - The Vow in the ICU
The steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was the only sound inside Intensive Care Unit 4.
Dominic Rossi stood at the foot of the bed, his dark wool coat still damp with my blood. Through the maze of clear plastic tubing, IV lines, and the thick, black rubber hose of the ventilator, he looked at my face. My skin was as white as the hospital linens, bruised purple around the temples where my head had struck the marble floor during the shooting.
Enzo stood by the door, his hand resting near his concealed shoulder holster. "Dominic," Enzo whispered again, his voice tight with anxiety. "Father Thomas is outside, but this... this is insane. If the Commission finds out you married a civilian without board approval—"
"The Commission doesn't dictate who I take into my house, Enzo," Dominic said without turning around. His voice was gravelly, deadened by hours of silence. "Victor Costa’s men are already patrolling the lower lobby posing as private security. The moment she wakes up—if she wakes up—she’s a target. Under Five Families charter rules, a civilian witness can be removed to protect an ongoing feud. But a Rossi wife?"
Dominic turned slowly, his hazel eyes locking onto his caporegime.
"A Rossi wife is an attack on the entire family. Anyone who touches her starts a total war with every soldier I control from Brooklyn to the Bronx."
"And the file?" Enzo pressed, leaning in closer. "The file you had on her six weeks ago? What happens when she finds out you knew who her father really was? What happens when she realizes her mother’s medical debt wasn't an accident?"
Dominic’s face turned into carved stone. "That file stays buried in my safe. She doesn't need to know anything except that she survived."
The heavy oak door opened softly, and Father Thomas stepped into the room. The old priest looked frightened, his white collar slightly askew, holding a small leather-bound prayer book in his trembling hands. Behind him stepped Isabella, her silver hair pulled back into a tight bun, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, but her jaw set in absolute determination.
"Dominic," Isabella said quietly, coming to stand beside her son. "Are you sure about this? Marriage is a sacrament before God, not just a legal shield."
"She took seven bullets for you, Ma," Dominic said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a simple, unadorned band of solid yellow gold. "She gave up her life for yours. The least I can give her is my name."
Father Thomas cleared his throat nervously, clearing his throat twice before opening his book. "We... we don't have a license, Dominic. The Archdiocese—"
"I own three judges in the Southern District, Father," Dominic cut him off flatly. "The paperwork will be registered at City Hall at eight o'clock tomorrow morning, backdated to yesterday. Read the rites."
The priest nodded hastily, slipping his purple stole around his neck. The room felt uncomfortably cold as Father Thomas began to recite the ancient Latin prayers of matrimony over the rhythmic chugging of the mechanical respirator.
Isabella stepped forward, placing her warm, shaking fingers over my limp, icy left hand.
When Father Thomas reached the blessing of the ring, Dominic stepped up to the edge of the mattress. He reached down, taking my swollen, pale right hand in his massive, calloused palm. With slow, reverent care, he slid the gold band onto my ring finger.
It fit perfectly.
Dominic bent down, his broad shoulders casting a dark shadow over my chest. He pressed his lips softly against my bruised knuckles, his dark stubble scraping gently against my skin.
"Listen to me, Clara," he whispered into the quiet, sterile room, his deep voice vibrating against my palm. "You don't know me yet, and you don't know the world you just bled for. But as long as there is air in my lungs, no one touches you. You are a Rossi now."
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Outside the glass window of ICU 4, two tall men in dark trench coats stepped off the elevator, their eyes scanning the hallway. Enzo quietly stepped out into the corridor, unbuttoning his suit jacket as two more of Dominic's soldiers stepped out from the stairwell behind them.
The war had already begun, and I was married to its commander before I ever opened my eyes.
