Chapter 10 – The Wolf Chose Love
Blood.
There was too much blood.
It soaked through Lily’s hands, warm and terrifying, pooling beneath Vincent Moretti as he lay motionless on the broken wooden floor.
“No… no, no, no…”
Her voice fractured into sobs.
She pressed both hands harder against the wound in his chest.
Entry wound.
Upper thoracic region.
Heavy blood loss.
Shallow breathing.
Pulse weak.
Lily’s nursing training returned instantly, cutting through panic.
Assess.
Control bleeding.
Keep airway open.
Keep him conscious.
“Marco!”
Her scream tore through the ruined house.
“I need pressure bandages! Now!”
Marco moved immediately.
His men secured the perimeter while another called emergency extraction.
But Lily heard none of it.
Her entire world had narrowed to one thing.
Vincent.
His gray eyes fluttered.
Half-open.
Fading.
“No,” she whispered fiercely.
“You are not dying.”
His lips moved.
Barely.
“Lily…”
She bent lower.
“I’m here.”
His breathing rattled.
“I’m… sorry.”
The words stunned her.
Sorry?
Tears streamed down her face.
“For what?”
His eyes struggled to focus.
“For… being late.”
Lily froze.
He continued in broken breaths.
“I should’ve found you sooner.”
Her heart shattered.
Even now.
Even dying.
He thought about her.
She shook her head violently.
“Stop talking.”
His hand twitched toward her.
Weak.
She grabbed it instantly.
Held tight.
His thumb brushed her skin.
The smallest gesture.
The most devastating.
“I was alone,” he whispered.
A pause.
“So long.”
Tears blurred her vision.
“But you…”
His voice broke.
“You made the house warm again.”
Lily openly sobbed now.
No more restraint.
No more walls.
“Vincent, stop.”
His eyes softened.
First time she had ever seen him without armor.
No mafia king.
No Iron Wolf.
Only a man.
A tired, wounded man who had finally allowed himself to love.
“Say it again,” he whispered.
Lily choked on tears.
“What?”
His lips trembled.
“That you care.”
Her breath shattered.
This impossible man.
Still demanding truth.
Still needing certainty.
Even now.
She leaned down until their foreheads touched.
Then she said what had been growing inside her for weeks.
Raw.
Honest.
Irreversible.
“I love you.”
Silence.
Vincent stopped moving.
Not dead.
Still.
As if the words stunned him more than the bullet.
Lily pressed closer.
Voice breaking.
“I love you.”
Tears fell onto his face.
“I love your impossible arrogance.”
A sob.
“I love how terrifying you are.”
Another.
“I love how gentle you are when nobody sees.”
Her hand shook against his cheek.
“And I love the man who would bleed for the people he protects.”
His eyes glistened.
Actual tears.
Vincent Moretti crying was something no living person had ever seen.
His voice cracked.
“Again.”
Lily laughed through tears.
A broken, beautiful sound.
“I love you.”
He closed his eyes.
Peace touched his face.
Then—
His pulse weakened.
The monitor attached to Marco’s emergency kit screamed.
Dropping.
Fast.
Lily snapped into action.
“No!”
Pressure failing.
Blood loss worsening.
No time.
No hesitation.
She screamed at Marco.
“Needle decompression kit!”
Marco froze.
“You can do that?”
Her voice became steel.
“Yes!”
He threw the kit.
Lily caught it.
Hands steady now.
Training.
Precision.
Focus.
Second intercostal space.
Angle.
Depth.
She inserted the needle.
Vincent jerked.
Air escaped.
His breathing improved slightly.
Not enough.
Still critical.
Helicopter blades thundered outside.
Rescue.
Finally.
Men rushed in with a stretcher.
Lily refused to let go.
All the way to extraction.
All the way to the helicopter.
All the way to surgery.
Twelve hours later.
Mount Sinai Hospital
Same hospital.
Same sterile hallway.
But everything had changed.
Lily sat motionless outside the operating room.
Blood still stained her clothes.
Her hands.
Her skin.
She had not changed.
Could not.
Because changing would make this real.
Marco stood nearby.
Silent.
Respectful.
Hours passed.
Then—
The surgeon emerged.
Lily stood so fast the chair fell.
“How is he?”
The surgeon removed his mask.
Exhaustion lined his face.
Then—
A small smile.
“He survived.”
The world stopped.
Then crashed back.
Lily nearly collapsed.
Relief hit so hard her knees failed.
Marco caught her before she fell.
She cried.
Not graceful tears.
Not quiet tears.
Violent relief.
He lived.
Vincent lived.
Three weeks later.
Spring sunlight poured through the Moretti mansion.
Warm.
Gentle.
Alive.
Everything felt different.
Safer.
Lighter.
Salvatore’s empire had collapsed after his death.
Salvatore DeLuca was gone.
The ledger destroyed corrupt alliances.
Arrests followed.
Politicians fell.
Judges resigned.
Federal investigations spread like wildfire.
A criminal dynasty ended.
And yet—
For Lily, none of that mattered as much as one thing.
Footsteps behind her.
Slow.
Familiar.
She turned.
Vincent stood in the doorway.
Alive.
Healing.
A scar now marked his chest beneath his shirt.
Beautiful evidence of survival.
Gray eyes locked onto hers.
Still dangerous.
Still intense.
But softer now.
Human.
Lily smiled.
“You should be resting.”
Vincent ignored that completely.
“I was.”
She folded her arms.
“For eight minutes?”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t rest.”
“It was unbearable.”
She raised a brow.
“What was?”
He stepped closer.
“Being in another room.”
Her heart betrayed her.
Still.
After everything.
This man.
She shook her head.
“You’re impossible.”
Vincent stopped inches away.
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then—
He dropped to one knee.
Lily stopped breathing.
No.
No way.
Vincent Moretti did not kneel.
To anyone.
Ever.
Yet here he was.
Kneeling.
For her.
He opened a velvet box.
Inside—
A ring.
Elegant.
Timeless.
At its center, green emeralds.
Her eyes.
Her color.
Tears filled instantly.
Vincent looked up.
Gray eyes unguarded.
No armor.
No power.
Only truth.
“I spent most of my life believing love was weakness.”
His voice stayed calm but raw.
“I was wrong.”
Lily covered her mouth.
He continued.
“Love didn’t weaken me.”
A pause.
“You did something far more dangerous.”
Another pause.
“You made me human.”
Tears fell freely.
Vincent’s voice softened.
“When you entered my home, you were a maid.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“When you saved my son…”
Emotion tightened his throat.
“…you became my reason to fear loss.”
He held her gaze.
“When you nearly died…”
His jaw flexed.
“…I realized survival meant nothing without you in it.”
Silence.
Perfect silence.
Then—
The final truth.
Brutal.
Beautiful.
Absolute.
“Lily Sinclair.”
He lifted the ring.
“Be my future.”
A pause.
“Be my home.”
His voice lowered.
“Marry me.”
She broke.
Tears.
Laughter.
Joy.
Everything at once.
She dropped to her knees before him.
Hands shaking.
Heart overflowing.
“Yes.”
A sob-laugh escaped.
“Yes.”
She grabbed his face.
“Yes, you impossible man.”
Then kissed him.
Slow.
Deep.
Certain.
Not desperate now.
Not fearful.
Chosen.
Equal.
Home.
When they finally separated, another voice exploded across the room.
“DADDY!”
Six-year-old Matteo sprinted in.
Wolf plushie in hand.
He stopped.
Gasps.
Eyes huge.
“DID SHE SAY YES?”
Lily burst into laughter.
Vincent almost smiled.
Almost.
Matteo launched himself into both of them.
Group hug.
Messy.
Perfect.
Matteo grinned.
“So she’s staying forever?”
Vincent looked at Lily.
Lily looked at Matteo.
Then smiled through happy tears.
“Yes.”
Matteo cheered.
“I knew it!”
Vincent wrapped one arm around Lily and one around his son.
For the first time in years—
The mansion felt alive.
Not cold.
Not haunted.
Home.
Real home.
Lily rested her head against Vincent’s shoulder.
Warmth.
Safety.
Love.
Everything she thought she’d never have.
She once believed survival was enough.
She had been wrong.
Survival kept you breathing.
Love gave breath meaning.
Vincent kissed her temple.
Quietly, only for her, he whispered:
“You saved my son.”
A pause.
Then—
“You saved me too.”
Lily smiled.
And in that moment, she understood something profound.
The most dangerous man in New York had not been defeated by bullets.
Not by enemies.
Not by war.
The Iron Wolf had fallen to something far stronger.
Love.
Epilogue
Months later, a new brass nameplate appeared at the entrance of the mansion.
Not Moretti Estate.
Not Moretti House.
Instead, it read:
Home.
Because in the end, the wolf did not choose power.
May you like
He chose love.
The End.
