Christmas Vows with the Devil

22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dante

Several shocked pairs of Vitale eyes stare at me. Aunt Carla gasps and makes the sign of the cross. I glance at Rocco, shock and horror painted across his face. He was my father’s right-hand man, his best friend, and even he didn’t know.

My father is alive . The words play over and over in my head, twisting every truth I thought I knew, mocking me. He’s behind everything—Matteo’s kidnapping, the attacks. All this time, he’s been out there, weaving lies, orchestrating chaos.

My fists clench, the urge to hit something simmering beneath the surface. It was him all along, keeping the families at each other’s throats. It was him who destroyed my relationship with Gia six years ago. It was him who made my childhood hell and my adult life even more so.

There’s a part of me that wants to believe Carla’s just a drunk old woman lost in nostalgia. But deep down, the pieces fit too well. My father, the man who saw every person as a pawn, would do anything to stay in control.

Faking his own death? Perfect. Out of sight, free to wreak havoc.

I look at Gia beside me, her expression a mixture of shock and anger. She’s trying to process this just like me. The realization of what really happened that night six years ago hits her and her gaze floats toward me. She stares, open-mouthed, shocked. The truth finally came out.

I want to apologize a million times for being such a fool back then. For cutting her out of my life. And now? I don’t deserve her, but she hasn’t left my side. And Matteo—our son—is still out there.

“We need to be smart,” I say finally, voice low and firm. “If my father’s capable of faking his own death, he’s capable of anything. Every move we make has to be calculated.”

Rocco, finally recovered from the shock, nods solemnly. “Agreed. He’s a master manipulator—always was. We don’t know his endgame, but he wants control.”

“He probably believes he can run both families from the shadows,” Gia’s father adds, his gaze dark and pensive. “And Matteo…” His voice falters, the implications settling over us all.

Matteo could be used as leverage, a tool in my father’s warped game. The thought sends a chill through me, cutting to my core. My own father, willing to use my son as a pawn.

I force my hands to unclench, the anger pooling into something sharper, colder. “Then we refuse to play his game,” I say. “We’ll confront him directly, expose him for the snake he is. But he’s going to expect us to be careless and desperate.”

Gia shifts beside me, her gaze meeting mine. “I agree. We need to be one step ahead of him. We can’t let him know we’re onto him.”

My jaw clenches. It’s almost impossible to think about going toe-to-toe with him, but I’ll do whatever it takes. For Gia. For Matteo.

“Then we go to New York,” I say, my voice resolute. “We need allies, resources. People working for us that he won’t expect. And he’ll be watching, so we need to keep our moves quiet.”

Gia’s father nods. “I’ll arrange for a few of our men who are already in New York to join you. They’re loyal, and they’ll fight to the last breath.”

“Good.” I nod, gratitude mingling with determination. It’s the first step. He’s not getting away with this—not this time.

By morning, we have a shell of a plan. Rocco, Gia, and I are flying back in the chopper. It’s easily trackable, but my father will be expecting our return anyway. Getting the entire Vitale family back to the city unnoticed will take a bit more creativity.

My father’s guys—whoever they are now—will have eyes on every major road leading into the city, looking for Vitale plates. So instead, Giancarlo got his hands on a few rental RVs and hired some drivers to take them to New York.

We stand in the snow, hand-in-hand, watching the Vitales pile into the campers. It’s almost comical, this big bustling mafia family looking like they’re about to go on holiday but their grim faces reveal the truth.

Gia leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I circle my arm around her waist and kiss the top of her head. She feels so safe here in my arms. I need to make sure she stays here this time.

Once the Vitales are on their way, the three of us load into an SUV. Heavy snow crunches beneath our tires as we pull away from the cabin. I drive us to the local airfield which has the only helipad in town. My grip on the wheel tightens, my mind racing with every possible scenario, every way this could play out.

Gia’s beside me, silent but resolute. She’s putting her faith in me. It’s a trust I haven’t earned. And yet, she’s here, ready to fight alongside me. I let that steadiness ground me.

About halfway into the drive, she speaks, her voice soft. “Dante, you don’t have to do this alone. We’re in this together.”

I glance at her, finding her gaze steady, unwavering. She has every reason to hate me, to walk away and never look back. But here she is, determined, fierce, a woman who would move mountains for her family.

I grab her fingers, giving three quick squeezes and she smiles at me. It’s a smile that could light up the darkest night and shatter the iciest heart. I love her.

***

The flight to New York is uneventful and we slip into my penthouse apartment under the cover of night. Gia immediately begs for a shower and I guide her to the guest bathroom. I want to stay with her, to feel her warm body pressed against mine under the spray of the water. But the look in her eyes tells me now isn’t the time.

I hear her quiet sobs as I head back to the living room. She’s strong, but she also needs the space to cry, to grieve, so I let her be.

My father’s voice echoes in my memory, his calculated words, his manipulative charm. How he trained me to feel powerful, invincible—when in reality, he was just molding me into his weapon.

A weapon he thought he could wield, even now.

My living room is full of men, from both the Vitale and Manzo families. It’s a strange sight. They look uneasy with each other, having fought battles on opposite sides all these years. I drill into them the importance of working together now. This battle will be bigger than all of us.

The rest of the Vitale family arrives, whisked through the back entrance and up the service elevators, just in case. We congregate in the living room and Gia joins us, hair soaking wet and eyes puffy. But she looks better, stronger—determined to get her son back.

We pore over maps, lists, and photos spread out in front of us—evidence of the families he’s attacked, patterns in his movements. Each piece is a reminder of the destruction he’s caused in the past.

We go over each point, dissecting his possible motives, his network, his connections. His reach is extensive, his influence ingrained in every corner of the underworld. But who’s he working with now?

Hours tick by, each of us lost in our own thoughts as we sift through the puzzle. It’s Gia who finally speaks up, her voice cutting through the silence.

“Dante, we need to consider that he has eyes on us, even here.” She looks around uneasily, eyeing my men.

“I’m sure he does,” I say, raising my voice so everyone can hear. “But he’s going down. And anyone who helps him will follow.”

Heavy silence hangs above us. Thick tension fills the room. I slowly make eye contact with each of my men, driving the point home. After all, most of them worked with my father before I took over.

“Let me say it once more, just to be clear.” My voice is steely, violent. “I’m here to destroy the Manzo name piece by piece and get my son back. Nothing else matters to me.”

My crew nods, standing tall. I don’t know if I can trust all of them, but I have no choice now.

As dawn breaks over my city, I step outside to clear my head, the crisp air biting at my skin. I light a cigarette, the smoke curling around me as I stare out over the glittering skyline.

This place, once my empire, now feels haunted, every shadow holding the threat of betrayal. But I can’t let fear rule me.

Not now.

Not when I’m ready to burn it all to the ground.

Footsteps sound behind me, and I turn to see Gia standing there, her face illuminated by the early morning light. She looks exhausted, the weight of the last few days etched in every line of her face. But there’s a fierceness in her gaze, a determination that matches my own.

“We’ll find him, Dante,” she says, her voice steady, confident. “And we’ll bring Matteo home.”

I nod, the words unspoken between us heavy with promise. “Together,” I say, the word feeling foreign but right.

Her gaze softens and a rare, vulnerable moment passes between us. I feel the weight of her trust, her belief in me. It’s more than I deserve. But I’ll prove myself worthy. I’ll bring Matteo home, and I’ll end this once and for all.

Just then, my phone buzzes, the shrill ring breaking the silence. I pull it out, glancing at the screen. It’s a message from an unknown number, the words stark and chilling.

I’ve missed you, my dear boy. Come find me.

My stomach twists and my father’s mocking taunt hangs in my mind, mingling with my raging emotions.