Chapter 10 - A New Sunrise
Three months later, the sign hanging above the wooden porch read Monroe-Matteo Wellness Center.
Nestled in the heart of a quiet valley in Vermont, surrounded by towering pine trees and rolling green hills, the new clinic was everything my father had dreamed of—and more. Sunlight streamed through the large, wrap-around windows of the treatment rooms, illuminating polished hardwood floors, bamboo plants, and the soothing sound of an indoor water fountain.
Inside treatment room two, the room smelled of eucalyptus, cedar, and fresh mountain air.
I stood by the rolling supply cart, warming almond oil in my palms, looking down at Matteo as he lay face down on the massage table. The massive raven tattoo on his back was still there, but the tension beneath it was gone, replaced by smooth, relaxed muscle.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Matteo’s voice drifted up from the face cradle, calm and amused.
“I’m not thinking,” I retorted, walking over and placing my hands firmly on his lower back, sinking my thumbs into his spine with practiced, rhythmic precision. “I’m assessing your trap tension.”
“Right. Tension.” He let out a long, contented sigh, his chest flattening against the table. “You know, for a former mafia enforcer, you’re becoming remarkably domestic.”
“And for a former massage therapist, I’m becoming remarkably good at dismantling international crime syndicates,” I countered, working my way up toward his shoulders.
My fingers brushed lightly over the old circular burn scar beneath his left shoulder blade—the Keeper’s Mark. The skin was cool, healed, and at peace.
Matteo tilted his head slightly, turning his dark eyes toward me with an expression of absolute, unwavering devotion.
“Touch it slower,” he whispered, repeating the phrase that had started it all.
May you like
I smiled, slowing the pace of my hands, letting the rhythm of our breathing synchronize in the quiet, sunlit room.
My father’s secret was safe. The war was over. And for the first time in my life, the blood on the money didn't matter anymore—because everything we had was entirely, beautifully clean.
