Bound by my blood

Chapter twelve

Vincenzo's POV

A shrill scream rips through the private jet's cabin as the turbulence grows worse. Alexandria's voice is raw with fear, her nails digging into the armrests as she clenches her eyes shut.

I unbuckle my seatbelt recklessly, nearly losing my balance as the plane rocks beneath me. The overhead lights flicker for a moment, casting jagged shadows across her pale, stricken face. She's trembling, her body rigid with terror.

I drop into the seat beside her, securing my seatbelt with one hand while covering her trembling fingers with my other. They're ice-cold beneath my touch.

"Fuck! Why didn't you tell me you were scared of flying?" I demand, my voice sharper than I intended.

She doesn't answer, just shakes her head violently, her breaths coming in quick, ragged gasps.

"Make it stop! Please, make it stop!" she pleads, voice cracking as she grips my hand like it's her only tether to reality.

For once in my life, I feel utterly useless.

Her terror is real—unfiltered and raw. I can command an army of men without a second thought, but right now, I have no idea how to soothe a panicked woman.

"Alexa. Look at me." My tone is firm, leaving no room for disobedience.

After a moment of hesitation, her teary eyes flicker open, wide and glassy. I don't think she's even fully aware of what she's looking at—just that I'm here.

I tighten my grip on her, pulling her small frame against my chest. Her body stiffens at first, but then she presses against me, fists balling into my shirt as if she can ground herself by touch alone.

I don't say anything else. I just hold her.

Fifteen agonizing minutes later, the turbulence settles. The violent shaking eases into a gentle hum beneath us, and the tension in her shoulders gradually unwinds.

I exhale and loosen my hold, shifting back in my seat. She slowly detaches herself, wiping hastily at her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater.

I watch her carefully. "You okay?"

She nods stiffly, eyes still downcast. "I'm fine."

Liar.

She's gripping the hem of her sweater so tightly that her knuckles have turned white. But I don't push her—at least, not now.

"Come sit with me." My voice is gruff as I rise, motioning toward the recliner across from my father and Angelo. "We'll be in Catania in a few hours."

She doesn't argue, just follows behind me silently, her head down, arms wrapped around herself like a barrier.

The moment she settles into the seat, she yanks the window curtain down, shutting out the view of the sky. She grabs the remote and flicks through the movie selections, settling on a Disney film before slipping on her headphones.

I take my seat beside my father, but I'm barely settled before his sharp voice cuts through the air.

"Sei uno stupido! Non ti ho cresciuto così. Cosa stavi pensando?!" he spits, his Sicilian accent thick with disapproval.

(Translation: You are stupid! I didn't raise you like this. What were you thinking?)

I don't even flinch at his outburst. I knew it was coming.

"She is my wife, Padre," I say flatly, my fingers drumming against the leather armrest. "What was I supposed to do? It was you who arranged this marriage. What do you think would have happened if her family heard I abandoned her when she was terrified?"

He scoffs, shaking his head. "So che è tua moglie! Avresti dovuto ignorarla. Lei deve crescere su."

(Translation: I know she is your wife! You should have ignored her. She needs to grow up.)

My jaw clenches. "You need to grow up, old man," I mutter under my breath.

His eyes darken, but before he can fire back, Angelo intervenes. "Let's both calm down and focus on the real issue at hand," he says smoothly, always the peacemaker between us. "We have bigger problems to deal with."

I exhale heavily, forcing myself to let it go. For now.

Landing in Catania

The plane begins its descent, and I barely register the breathtaking view of my homeland outside the window.

Alexa, on the other hand, has a death grip on my hand.

I glance down at her. She's staring straight ahead, her lips parted as she takes slow, deliberate breaths, trying not to panic again.

I let her hold onto me.

The wheels touch the ground with a soft thud, and a few minutes later, the jet rolls to a stop. The flight attendants move to open the doors, and as soon as the warm Sicilian air floods the cabin, I feel a familiar weight settle on my shoulders.

Back to work.

As soon as I step off this plane, I'll have to meet with the families of the six men we lost. Deliver condolences, hand over blood money, and ensure their loyalty remains intact. Then, I'll be drowning in paperwork.

The last thing I have time for is Alexandria's attitude.

But, of course, she has to start something.

The moment she spots the flight attendant flashing me a flirtatious smile, she glares daggers at her. Then, in an impressive show of pettiness, she storms down the steps, shoving past the staff.

I smirk.

The driver rushes to open the limo door for her, but in a fit of rage, she smacks his hand away and yanks it open herself.

She slams it shut so violently that the entire vehicle shudders.

By the time I reach the car, she's already inside, arms crossed, her knee bouncing aggressively.

Alceu glances at me warily before clearing his throat. "Where to, Mr. Lombardo?"

"Home," I say. "Drop Alexa off, then take me to Librino."

"No."

Her voice is sharp, unwavering.

I glance at her lazily. "No?"

"I'm not going to sit around feeling sorry for myself," she snaps. "I'm coming with you."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "You're going to get yourself killed, Princess."

Before I can look back at my phone, she snatches it from my hand.

My head whips toward her, eyes narrowing. "Give that back."

She smirks. Then, before I can stop her, she shoves it down her bra.

Alceu's entire face turns red as he stares straight ahead, pretending he's somewhere very, very far away.

My patience snaps.

"Listen here, love," I growl, leaning in close, voice dropping to something dangerous. "I am the one in charge in this relationship. Give me my phone before I take it myself."

She giggles. Fucking giggles.

Then, in the most absurd display of audacity, she climbs over the seat into the front, giving Alceu a full fucking view of her cleavage.

Alceu makes a choking sound.

I am going to kill him.

But first, I'm going to teach my wife a lesson.

The moment we get home, I swear she'll learn exactly what happens when you defy me.

And Alceu? He's getting his eyes ripped out.