Chapter 85
The last echoes of gunfire faded into the night as Marco stood at the edge of the estate’s ravaged courtyard, surveying the aftermath of the battle. Bodies of Rafael’s remaining mercenaries lay scattered among the wreckage, and his men moved methodically, securing the area and tending to the wounded.
Luca approached, his face streaked with dirt but his eyes sharp. “It’s done, Marco. Rafael’s forces are finished.”
Marco nodded, his shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of exhaustion. “Good,” he said quietly, his gaze sweeping the destruction. “We’ve lost too much already.”
He turned toward the estate, his thoughts immediately shifting to Carmen. He hadn’t seen her since she confronted Rafael, and a flicker of unease crept into his chest. “Have you seen Carmen?”
“She’s in the west wing,” Luca said. “She’s safe.”
Marco didn’t wait for more. He moved quickly through the ruined halls of Rafael’s estate, his steps echoing against the stone.
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He found her in a quiet corner of the west wing, sitting against the wall with her knees drawn up. Her weapon rested on the ground beside her, and her hands trembled slightly as she stared at the floor.
“Carmen,” Marco called softly.
Her head snapped up, and relief flooded her expression. “Marco.”
He crossed the room in a few strides, pulling her into his arms. She clung to him, burying her face against his chest as her body shuddered.
“It’s over,” he murmured, holding her tightly. “We’re safe.”
Carmen pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tears glistening in her eyes. “I killed him, Marco. Rafael. It had to be done, but—”
“You did what you had to,” Marco interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “You saved us. You saved our family.”
Carmen nodded, her hands gripping his shirt. “I couldn’t let him take anything more from us. I couldn’t let him win.”
Marco pressed a kiss to her forehead, his voice soft. “He didn’t win. We did. Because of you.”
She closed her eyes, leaning into him as the weight of the battle began to lift.
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Back at the Venetti estate, the early light of dawn broke over the grounds, casting a golden glow across the sprawling villa. The atmosphere, though still somber, carried a sense of quiet hope.
In the garden, Marco stood with Carmen by his side, their child toddling around nearby. The little boy giggled as he chased a butterfly, his laughter a stark contrast to the violence they had endured.
Marco watched him for a moment, his chest tightening with emotion. “This is what we fought for,” he said softly.
Carmen reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. “And it was worth every sacrifice.”
Marco turned to her, his expression earnest. “You were the backbone of all this, Carmen. I didn’t see it before, not the way I should have, but you kept us together. You saved us.”
Carmen smiled faintly, her grip on his hand tightening. “We saved each other, Marco. That’s what makes us strong.”
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips, slow and tender. “I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly.
“Yes, you do,” Carmen replied, her voice steady. “Because you never gave up on us. And neither did I.”
They stood together, watching their son as he explored the garden, his curiosity unburdened by the darkness his parents had fought so hard to banish.
“We’ll rebuild,” Marco said, his tone resolute. “Smarter, stronger. But this time, we do it on our terms.”
Carmen nodded, her gaze unwavering. “And we do it together.”
As the sun rose higher, its light spilling across the estate, Marco and Carmen felt a renewed sense of purpose. The war had tested them in every way, but it had also forged something unbreakable—a partnership built on love, trust, and the promise of a better future.
In that moment, surrounded by the peace they had fought so hard to protect, the Venetti family stood united, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
