by Reilly, Cora
“What they are ...” I stared at my father.
Samuel touched my shoulder, but I shook him off.
“They are mine! They are your blood too. They are part of the Outfit! When will you accept that? Will it take Nevio taking the oath for you to come to terms with it?”
Dad and Samuel exchanged a look, and I took a step back. “He’ll become part of the Outfit, right? He’ll become Underboss of a city one day? It’s his birthright.”
His birthright is to become Capo of the Camorra.
Dad gave me a sad smile. “Dove,” he murmured.
“No,” I whispered. “Don’t tell me you won’t let Nevio amount to anything because of who his father is.”
Samuel gave me a look as if I was being unreasonable. “Fina, he looks like a fucking Falcone. They are all fucking insane. Remo’s twisted blood runs through his veins. And just look at him. He’s already got an impossible temper at only seven months.”
“Our soldiers will never accept him, not after what his father did. We’ve still barely recovered from the attack. Every wedding is heavily guarded, every woman protected by twice the number of guards. That shame lingers and your children are a constant reminder of it,” Dad said quietly.
I turned around and left them standing there. Rushing past Mom without a word, I stormed into the nursery and closed the door, breathing harshly.
Nevio and Greta were asleep in the crib they shared, both sprawled out on their backs. Greta’s hand rested on Nevio’s chest. They always ended up touching when they slept.
My children weren’t something shameful.
I wouldn’t allow anyone to make them feel that way. Not even the family I loved.
REMO
Kiara was in full-blown Christmas mode. She’d decorated every area of the house she was allowed into. I knew she would have loved to wield her magic in my wing as well, but she wasn’t that daring yet. Good for her, because I was in a fucking foul mood, had been for days, and today was the worst of all.
The scent of freshly baked cookies wafted through the house as I read the email from Rick, the organizer of our races. Everything had been set up for the biggest race we’d ever held. Nino wasn’t happy I decided to end it in Kansas City after the last incident, but I wanted to make a fucking point. The Outfit had been surprisingly careful in their attacks. An ambush here and there, a few dismembered soldiers, but nothing major. Until three days ago when they killed my fucking Underboss in Kansas City. A warning not to get so close to their territory. Maybe the beginning of more. Ending the race anywhere else would have sent the wrong message.
Kiara came in carrying a plate with what looked like small half-moons dusted in sugar. She held it out to me. “Kipferl.”
“I’m not in the mood for something sweet.” I was in the mood to blast something to smithereens, for blood and death, and more than that ... Dante’s fucking demise.
She frowned. “They’re delicious.” Her eyes moved to the screen. “Kansas?”
I nodded then grabbed one of the cookies and took a bite. Sweet and soft. I put half of it back down on the plate. Kiara took it and ate the rest.
I didn’t like the way she regarded me as if she knew.
“I’ve been thinking about your offer.”
I had no clue what she was talking about.
“About training with you.”
“I made that offer more than a year ago,” I said.
She bit her lip. “I wasn’t ready then.”
I knew another reason why I hadn’t been part of her defense training in the last few months. Nino was wary of my emotional state, but he was out visiting a few of our drug labs. He was interested in the chemical processes, but I only in the end result. The only times I visited our labs were when they needed reminding to work more efficiently.
“And you think today’s a good time to fight me?” I asked in a low voice.
“Not fight. Train,” she corrected.
I pushed off the sofa, towering over her. She didn’t flinch. “Now?”
She put the plate down and indicated the boxing ring. I shook my head. “In real life you won’t be in a boxing ring when you’re being attacked. It’ll be in a dark alley, when you’re on your way home. Your attacker will have been following and watching you for a while. He’ll be behind you.”
We both knew that it would never come to that. Kiara was never alone anymore, and the stupid bastard daring to look at her the wrong way would lose his eyes.
“Run.”
She blinked. “What?”
I leaned down, invading her personal space, trying to get her pulse up. “Run.”
Understanding filled her eyes. She took a step back and then she turned and began running.
I took another cookie and bit half of it off before putting it back down on the plate. Then I chased her. Running after Kiara brought back memories I didn’t fucking need today or ever. Anger surged through me. I took the steps two at a time and caught up with her in the connecting hallway to their wing. I gripped her hand and jerked her back. Kiara gasped but acted immediately, whirling on me before I could press her to the ground. She knew she couldn’t allow me to press her onto her stomach. Once my weight rested on her back, she wouldn’t have a chance to defend herself anymore. She was good, but I was angry and not in the mood to take it too easy on her.
The second I straddled her hips with her arms pressed above her head, the flickers of panic filled her eyes.
“Snap out of it,” I ordered.
I saw the struggle in her eyes, the memories threatening to burst forth even after all this time.
“Snap the fuck out of it,” I snarled. I wouldn’t release her if she didn’t.
Indignation flashed in her eyes, and she bucked her hips, but I was too heavy. She was small and lithe, and managed to jerk her leg up in a way that her knee smashed right into my balls.
Every fiber in my body, every muscle, every fucking blood cell, acted on instinct, wanting to lash out. I shoved off her and sank back against the wall, chest heaving, trying to calm the rage in my veins.
“Sorry,” Kiara said, sitting up and watching me worriedly.
I smiled darkly. “No need. You did what Nino taught you.”
“But you didn’t pull back because I hurt you ... only to stop yourself from hurting me in response.”
I raised my eyebrows. She was perceptive. I wasn’t sure if I liked it. “It doesn’t matter. The average man isn’t as familiar with pain as I am. A kick to the balls would distract them.”
She nodded then she surprised me by sitting beside me against the wall. “Today’s Serafina’s birthday, right?”
“Kiara,” I said in warning.
She tilted her head. “She didn’t marry, did she?”
“I don’t have spies in the Outfit, so I wouldn’t know.”
“It would have been in the news.”
I had stopped searching for news on Serafina a few days after I’d released her. She was a thing of the past.
“I thought she was falling for you ...”
I stood, glaring down at her. “You women always need to turn everything into a fairy tale, even a kidnapping. Serafina was my captive. The only falling she did was her fall from grace.”
She pushed off the ground as well. “You can pretend all you want, but I saw the way you looked at her.”
I backed her into the wall. “You didn’t see anything because there wasn’t anything. I fucked Serafina and enjoyed every moment of it. I wanted to possess her, wanted to rip her innocence from her, and I did. That’s it.”
“If that were all, you would have bathed in your triumph afterward. But you hardly even mentioned her since you let her go ... as if you can’t bear saying her name.”
“Kiara,” I growled. “Don’t push me too far. Not right now.”
She pushed against my shoulder, and I stepped back. Without another word, she left, but her eyes had said more than enough.
When I came back down into the gam
e room to kick the punching bag, Savio and Adamo were on the sofa, playing some fucking shooting game. As if we didn’t have enough bloodshed in real life. The plate with the cookies was empty.
“Are there more cookies in the kitchen?” Savio asked without looking up.
“How would I know? Ask Kiara.”
Savio slanted a curious glance my way. “What crawled up your ass?”
I sank down across from them. “Right this moment? You. In general? Kansas.”
“That race is going to be spectacular,” Adamo said.
“Don’t sound so fucking excited. You don’t really believe Remo will allow you to race again after last time, do you?” Savio muttered, throwing his feet up on the table.
“That wasn’t my fault,” Adamo snapped.
“Sure. When you crash a car it’s never your fault.”
“I won’t crash this time. I’m much better. I’ll win.”
Savio didn’t look convinced. “It’s the longest race. Eight hours minimum. That gives you plenty of time to fuck up.”
“I won’t fuck up. And the long distance is the best part. It’s a cool layout,” Adamo said.
“You won’t drive,” I said finally. “The race ends in Kansas City. I don’t want you that close to Outfit territory.”
“Nobody has to know that I’m there. I’m in a car. I can use another name.”
“No. And that’s final.”
Adamo frowned and sank deeper into the sofa. “You promised me I could race more often if I didn’t skip school and did my Camorra duties.”
“And that promise stands, Adamo, but not this race.”
“But Luke will be there again with a new car. He rammed me last time. I want to kick his ass and make him crash his car.”
I leaned forward. “You won’t go anywhere near that race, Adamo.”
“Fine,” he mumbled. “But next race I’m allowed?”
I nodded. I’d thought Adamo’s fascination with races would wane with time, but it hadn’t. He still lived for the occasional race, and I had started rewarding him with them for tasks well done. He was still a reluctant Made Man, but he’d improved, not just his fighting skills but also his guilt over what we did. Sometimes I wondered if I should just let him become the organizer for our races and have him race cars instead of trying to force him into another role, but we needed him. Open war with the Outfit required every Made Man we had.
CHAPTER 25
SERAFINA
Dad was antsy. He kept checking his phone, which rested beside his plate. He usually didn’t have his phone on display when we had dinner. It was our family time.
Mom brought a spoon with pureed sweet potato in an arch to Greta’s waiting mouth; she smacked her lips happily around the food. I, on the other hand, tried to stop Nevio from throwing his food around. He didn’t like being fed and preferred to shove food into his mouth by himself, but he was still too small for that and made too much of a mess. I held his small hands so he couldn’t grab the spoon and brought it to his mouth. It took three attempts before he accepted the food.
“They are cute but watching them eat is a bit disgusting,” Sofia said, her nose wrinkled. “And since they started eating normal food as well, their diapers stink.”
Dad frowned, obviously unhappy about the topic. He could eat dinner while someone was tortured right in front of him but a stinky diaper bothered him. Men.
Nevio let out an indignant howl when I tried for another spoonful of puree. He jerked in his seat.
Dad’s eyes held disapproval. Seven months, and he still couldn’t bear Nevio’s sight. At least he’d held Greta a few times, but I didn’t think he could ever look past their DNA.
The front door banged open, and Samuel rushed into the dining room, looking ecstatic and a bit unhinged. Dad rose slowly and Samuel smiled. I shivered because there was something dark and awfully eager in my twin’s expression. “We got him,” he said. “We got the bastard.”
“Where is he?” Dad asked, knowing exactly whom Samuel was referring to.
I set down the spoon. Mom and I exchanged a look.
“Danilo and I took him to our safety house as discussed.” Danilo? A horrid suspicion overcame me.
Mom began cleaning Greta.
Dad’s eyes moved to me, and finally Samuel turned to me as well. I approached them. “Who did you catch?”
Samuel touched my shoulders lightly, his eyes bright, but in their depths something was lurking that scared me. “We got our hands on Adamo Falcone. He was taking part in a street race close to our borders and we caught him.”
My insides turned to stone. “Why did you catch him?” I had a feeling I knew exactly why.
“To torture the little pisser and send Remo a video of it like he sent us a video of you. And maybe we will send him each part of his brother that we’ll cut off, wrapped in a white ribbon.”
“Sam, Adamo is only fifteen. He is a boy. It’s not right.”
Samuel’s face hardened. “He is a member of the Camorra, the fucking tattoo and all. And Remo Falcone didn’t give a fuck about right and wrong when he kidnapped an innocent woman on her wedding day and tortured and raped her.”
The color drained from my face. “It wasn’t like that,” I whispered.
I glanced over my shoulder at my children, but Mom was already picking up Greta. I took Nevio out of the seat and handed him to her as well. She left quickly. I turned back to Samuel, shaking because he’d said a name I hadn’t heard in a while. I still felt incredibly guilty because my family didn’t understand that Remo hadn’t forced me, didn’t understand that he had only taken what I had given.
Dad stepped up beside Samuel. He still had a hard time meeting my gaze when this topic was addressed, too ashamed for not having been able to protect me. “Your brother is right. The Falcones get what they deserve. We will destroy their crazy family like they destroyed ours.”
I swallowed. That’s what he thought? That our family was destroyed? I saw it every time he looked at my children and his expression flashed with guilt and disgust.
“Remo won’t stand back and let you torture his brother. He won’t care about the danger. He will walk into our city and tear everything down that’s in his way.”
Samuel dropped his hand, face twisting with self-hatred. “Like we should have marched into Vegas and saved you.”
Dad ran a hand through his hair. “You know we couldn’t. Remo would have killed Fina the second we got close. We were lucky he didn’t do so when you went there on your own. We couldn’t risk it after that.”
Remo would have never killed me, but they didn’t know that, couldn’t possibly understand, and how could I ever explain to them when I didn’t understand it myself?
“Instead we sat back and waited for him to make demands while he was busy forcing himself on her and getting her pregnant.”
“I’m here! Stop talking about me like I’m not here.”
“Sorry, dove,” Dad said with a sigh. My heart fluttered. He seldom called me ‘dove’ anymore, not because he loved me less but because he felt responsible for my broken wings.
“I’m not blaming either of you,” I said firmly, looking first at my father then at Samuel. “But I know Remo and he will do anything to save his brother. Anything.”
“We will see. We’re going to do a live recording for the fucker today. He can watch his brother getting tortured live on the Darknet.” Samuel grinned.
I took a step back. “You’re joking.”
“No,” Samuel said. “I only came to pick up Dad. Danilo is already preparing everything, and Dante is supposed to arrive any moment as well.”
“You planned this?”
“Not Adamo, no,” Samuel said. “We wanted to attack the race. It was pure luck that the little bastard enjoys racing cars.”
Dad nodded. “We should leave now. Let’s go.”
I gripped Samuel’s arm. “Let me go with you.”
He exchanged a look with Dad who said, “No, do
ve. That’s nothing you should see.”
“Why not? I’ve been a captive of the Camorra for months. Do you really think torture or blood still bother me? Do you think anything can bring me to my knees anymore? I’m not the innocent girl of the past. I have a right to be there. I was the one they kidnapped. You owe it to me to let me go with you.”
They both stared at me like I’d punched them, and I felt a flicker of guilt, but playing the guilt card was my only chance to convince them, and I needed to see Adamo.
Dad closed his eyes briefly then gave a small nod. “Come on.”
He went ahead. Samuel wrapped his arm around my shoulder and squeezed. “We will make them pay for what they did to you. Remo will regret the day he laid a finger on you.”
I averted my eyes and followed Samuel out of our house, a place that felt less like home every day. Every day that Nevio looked more like his father.
The house they took me to was a shabby three-story building close to the tracks, located in the industrial part of Minneapolis. When we stepped inside, my eyes registered Danilo first. He had his arms crossed and was staring at a screen on a table against one wall. Beside him stood my uncle Dante, as usual dressed in a suit, but his jacket was already slung over a chair that sat in front of the screen, and he had rolled up his sleeves.
My stomach turned. I’d never seen him with rolled up sleeves, and I knew why. I had never been around when he’d tortured someone. There was another man, one of Dad’s soldiers, who was working at a laptop, probably establishing the Darknet connection. They turned when we entered, and all eyes zeroed in on me. I wasn’t supposed to be here.
Dante frowned and came toward us. Danilo stayed where he was, but he, too, watched me. I wasn’t his fiancé anymore. I was nothing to him. My sister was promised to him, and now she was as precious as I had been. And yet he would be part in the Outfit’s revenge because Remo had insulted Danilo in the worst way possible: he had taken me from him.
Dante stopped before us, his cool eyes resting on me. “Serafina, this is Outfit business. You shouldn’t be here.”
“It is my business, Uncle. The Falcones held me captive.” I met his gaze head-on. After months in Remo’s company, I didn’t feel the urge to lower my gaze despite my uncle’s own scary vibe, especially today. There was something predator-like about him, about them all. Eager to tear into their victim, to hear its screams and taste its blood.