by Serena Light
He waited for them to be gone, raising his hands as the sound of the chambers being locked and loaded infiltrated the silence of the leaves. The moment the gates closed, he closed his fist and watched as one by one, the men got shot and drowned in their own blood. Grabbing onto the branch he was seated on Salvatore lowered his body, holding on and swinging before letting go, diving into the air and rolling on the snow to end up on his knee in the midst of the chaos, his years as a gymnast aiding him.
Three men followed his example before they all ran across the white bathed in red.
Walking towards the back of the house, his men helped him onto the first-floor balcony, grabbing onto the railing, he pulled himself up before helping the second man as well, two men staying below and guarding them against any more threats.
Pushing the glass open, Salvatore and Niccolo made their way inside, ensuring no one was out in the hallway before exiting. Sticking close to the shadows, they made their way up the stairs before stopping at the door to the far right.
Holding a hand up, he had Niccolo wait outside as he entered, the woman before him was in her late 50's and looking at him with a tear-stained face and disheveled grey hair.
"Where is my Olivia? Where is Jayson?" She whimpered, taking a step back as the figure in black approached. "What did you do?"
"Distracted him," Salvatore responded, holding up the gun and pointed it at her, noticing how she didn't flinch away or begin to scream, as if though the thought of death appealed to her, but he didn't have time to ponder on it all as he loaded it. "No one messes with my family and lives," He found himself smirking as the bullet whizzed out and lodged itself into her brain, the woman staggering back before falling onto the bed behind her, sliding down and leaving a stream of blood in her wake.
Turning back to the door, he exited and both he and Niccolo took the way they had come from. Getting onto the balcony, they tossed down their guns before hanging from the railings into order to dive and roll onto the snow once more.
Grabbing their weapons, the four men ran back across the bloodied field and into the forest, his other men waiting for him and also began to run as they approached. The sound of the alarm ringing behind them as they struggled through the snow, finding their cars at the other end of the forest, all of them gone before Jayson's men could even comprehend what had happened.
2 days later, Salvatore found himself seated on the floor of his study, having showered and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, sitting before the burning hearth with files laid out before him and Hades's head at his feet. He was so engrossed in the work before him that he never heard the door open, much less did he realize Stephen stepping inside with a plate of creamy tomato parmesan chicken.
Settling down across from his best friend, the American put the plate beside his elbow, before hugging his knees and watching the Mafia Boss work and absentmindedly taking a bite every once in a while.
It had been almost 5 days since Nicole had been sent away, and not once did Salvatore call or message her. Once his parent's heard about the events that had transpired, both his father and youngest brother had been furious at her audacity, but his mother and elder brother understood why she did what she did – given that her husband wasn't the easiest person to deal with.
Stephan had been called yesterday when it proved to be futile attempt to talk to him and get him to eat something. His mother even noticed how he opted to stay in his study rather than his own bedroom.
He missed her, everyone knew that. But a man like Salvatore - a Mafia Boss like Salvatore - wasn't without his pride. He might be wrong, and he might even know of his own fault, but he wasn't going to just be up and okay with it, putting aside his pride and self-respect.
The American watched as he finished dinner. Having been his best friend of 11 years, he knew everything there was to know about the man before him, and he even knew the solutions.
He isn't eating? Fine, put a plate beside him when he's engrossed in work and he'd eat without realizing it. Won't sleep? Swaddle him in a blanket and talk about physics formulas. He's angry? Take him down to the gym and have him punch a bag or fight one of the men. Stressed? Bubble bath. Anxious? Music. Depressed? Hugs. Stephen had all the solutions to his problems, which is exactly why he never went back to America.
Stephen J. Finch has officially settled in Tuscany, Florence, Italy, for this precise reason.
The reason in the form of the Regnante Mafia Boss.
"How did the mission go?" He asked, handing him a glass of water as his best friend took it without much notice.
"Successful," The Mafia boss sipping the contents with his eyes wandering over the papers before him.
"Sated your bloodlust?"
"To a certain degree,"
"Won't be satisfied until its Jayson's blood?"
"Not even close,"
"Atta-boy," Stephan rolled his eyes, knowing the dynamics of the Mafia and this infuriating man. Sighing, he looked at him, a concern welling inside. "Salvatore, when Jayson got Luca mugged, you burned down his warehouse. Then he targeted Serafina, you killed Olivia. Now he attacked your parents and you killed his mother in his own house and burned down another warehouse, aren't you a little worried about what he might do to retaliate?"
"He can't do anything major since he can't infiltrate my Mafia," He stated nonchalantly. "Everyone of interest to him is safe under my roof,"
"Everyone," Stephen trailed. "Besides your wife," He watched how Salvatore's pen faltered before he continued with his scribbling.
"He doesn't know that," The Italian stated in certainty.
"Are you sure about that?" He questioned, shuffling closer to his best friend. "Because this is a vendetta, even the slightest bit of uncertainty is an opportunity to attack, you taught me that, remember, Salvatore?"
"Just get to the point," He put down his pen, looking up at Stephan with cold unmoving eyes. "What are my parent's sayings?"
"Do I look like the god of messages to you, Salvi?" He tilted his head to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "I am not here to convey your parent's worries; I am here to convey my own worries,"
The Mafia Boss raised an eyebrow at the words.
"Look," Stephan sighed, holding out his hands. "Currently, your Mafia is at war with the Leone Mafia, right? Right. Now, Jayson is after your family, and in order to keep your family safe, you have them all at your headquarters where it is practically impossible for him to get in and harm anyone right? Right. Now this level of security which you have employed here is, honestly speaking, impregnable, but this is the Regnante Mafia household. And this level of security you will not find anywhere else, least of all at the Lombardi Manor, where your wife is currently because you two had a domestic dispute,"
"It is not a domestic dispute-"
"-It's a matter of pride and ego, right? That's what you're saying, huh, boss?" Stephan interjected, returning the cold glare Salvatore threw his way. "It is exactly about you and your inflated ego, not wanting to see that you gave Nicole no choice. She loves you, Salvatore, and she was so goddamn desperate for you to be better because she is witnessing you like this for the first time: stressed, depressed, and just downright a dick. And I don't blame her,"
"-Oh so it's my fault-?"
"-And I don't blame you either, idiot," Stephan hissed at his antics, Salvatore looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "I blame Jayson. This is exactly what he wanted, okay? He wanted you to get stressed out and make rash decisions and end up tearing yourself apart from the inside and I have known you for 11 years to know how to deal with you, but that girl, your wife, has known you for 1 year, you're still an anomaly to her, she's still trying to figure you out, trying to figure this marriage out. So you can't really blame her for doing what she did, she was confused and worried and desperate and you shouldn't have sent her to her parents so unprotected and in the heat of things. At most you could have come to my place said that you needed some time on your own, but not send your wi
fe off to someplace unprotected like this,"
"Do you see my point?" He asked his best friend who had now stopped working and instead listened to him in silence while he scratched the wolf-hybrid behind the ear, the dog spending its time with his master given that his playmate was gone. "And I have no doubt that Nicole is just as miserable as you, if not more, you two love each other, don't you think it's time to bring her home safe before anything happens?"
Sighing, Salvatore lay back on his bed, rubbing his eyes and yawning in exhaustion. It had been a long day and he just wanted to sleep at this point, but just as he decided to get some shut-eye, a knock sounded on his door.
"Come in," He called, concealing a yawn behind his hands, watching as his parents walked in both of their wound having healed. "Hey,"
"How are you feeling?" His mother asked, coming to sit before him while his father stretched out on the other side of the bed.
"I'm fine," He nodded, leaning against the pillows behind his back. "How are you guys?"
"First class," Arcangelo murmured, showing his son a thumbs-up from his place, a smile quirking at Salvatore's lips.
They sat in silence for a moment before his mother called out to him.
"We were thinking-"
"-Don't worry, I'll bring her home first thing in the morning,"
"Really?" His mother's eyes twinkled with excitement as she clapped her hands together. "Oh, that's wonderful!" She laughed, Salvatore, shaking his head at his parents.
"Now, since that's out of the way, who wants to watch a movie?" Arcangelo suggested, picking up the remote from the table and turned on the television.
Soon, the three of them began watching a movie, Marco joining not 10 minutes later before both Angelica and Arsenio joined with Alessio in tow, all three of them have put their kids to sleep.
They all were busy laughing at the movie playing and the events happening when Salvatore's phone rang on his side table. Picking it up, he held it to his ear, sitting between both his parents with Marco lying at his feet and the other three settling on the couches in front of the bed.
"Hello," The Mafia boss called with a chuckle, not tearing his gaze away from the screen. The words on the other line having him pale and grab the remote, turning it off as various sounds of protests echoed from the people, all of them falling silent when Salvatore got up and walked away a few paces. "Now say it again, slowly,"
"Boss, you might want to come to the Lombardi Manor as soon as possible," Nicole's bodyguard informed on the other end, breathless. "It's bad, Boss, real bad,"
Chapter XXXVI: Mama
For the past one week, Nicole had either been sobbing nonstop or staring at her phone in hopes for a message or call from Salvatore. On more than a few occasions she had wanted to call him, even go back home, but Luca had told her to give him time. She had. She did try her hardest to give him the time that he needed, but now it was just becoming too much. The guilt, the longing, the need, his comfort. She needed to go back.
Choking back the tears, she trudged out of her room and made her way across the hallway before pushing open the door to her parent's bedroom. She was hoping to talk to her father, but instead found her mother reading, her gaze shooting up from the book to look at her from beneath her lashes.
"Nicole," She sat up, watching her daughter make her way forward and collapsing on the mattress, burying her face into the pillow and not caring how much criticism she would face. "Ti symvaínei? What's wrong?"
"Ta panta," The younger girl choked out, sitting up to look at her mother with a tear-streaked face and bloodshot eyes, looking at her pleadingly. "Everything is wrong. My husband hates me and I just want to go back home. I'm so scared that he wants a divorce. It's been a week and he hasn't called or messaged and I just want to go back to Salvatore, mama. I want him to see that I did this for his benefit and I hated doing that to him. Hated having to go behind his back and drug him just so that I could see a genuine smile on his face again, have him sleep soundly next to me again. He doesn't know and he didn't want to understand and I want him to." She sobbed, clutching at her head and shaking with the emotional turmoil inside her.
Sighing, Rhea wrapped an arm around her daughter's shoulders, surprising her when she pulled her back, having her lie down. Nicole looked up at her mother in shock, the tears stopping for a moment as she was unable to understand what she was doing.
Her father was the one who would comfort her, not her mother.
"One day, he's going to know." Her mother sighed, looking ahead and gently stroking her daughter's hair. "He'll know your birthday, your middle name, where you were born, and your star sign. He'll know how old you were when you first learned to ride a bike, how your grandparents passed away, how many pets you had before Persephone, and how much you hated going to school." Rhea chuckled at the memory of a little Nicole throwing a tantrum over going to school.
"He'll know the exact shade of green your eyes are, your scars, your freckles, your laugh lines, and your birthmarks. He'll know your favorite book, movie, candy, food, and a pair of shoes, color, and song. He's going to know why you're awake at 5 a.m. most nights, where you were when you realized you'd lost a good friend, why you picked up the razor and how you managed to put it down before things went too far."
"He's going to know you're scared of spiders, and how you dreamed of being an astronaut just so you didn't have to wear a dress, he'll know how scared you were of saying the wrong thing, and how you wished to be a mermaid or a butterfly, and how much you worry about him all the damn time. He's going to know about your first heartbreak, your dream wedding and will marry you again just so that you could fulfill that desire, and he's going to know about our strained relationship and how you're such a daddy's girl." She chuckled.
"He'll know your strengths, weaknesses, laziness, energy, and your mixed emotions. He's going to know about your love for mayonnaise, your dream of being famous when you were five, your need to quote The Lion King all the way through every time you watched it, and your fear of growing older." Rhea cupped Nicole's cheek into her hand and smiled down at the incredulous expression on her daughter's face, a part of her relieved to see that the tears had stopped. "He'll know your bad habits, your mannerism, and your stroppy pout when things don't go your way, your facial expressions, and your laugh like it's his favorite song. The way you chew, drink, walk, sleep, fidget, and kiss. He's going to know how much you planned your married life, knowing which house you wanted to buy, what bed to have in your room, what colored walls, tiles for the bathroom, nursery décor, how many kids you will have, and their respective names."
"He's going to know, get annoyed and then accept that you leave clothes everywhere, take twenty minutes to order a Starbucks, have organized your books alphabetically, and check your horoscope...just in case." Her mother flicked her nose light-heartedly, forcing Nicole to jump back at the action, too awestruck to say anything. "He'll know your McDonalds order, how many sugars you put in your coffee, how many scoops of ice cream you want, and that your sandwiches need to be cut in triangles. He's going to know how you feel without telling him, that you need a tight hug from the look on your face, and that you're crying without shedding tears."
"He's going to know all of it. Everything. You, from top to bottom and inside out. From learning, from sharing, from listening, from watching. He's going to know every single thing there is to know, and you know what else?" Rhea asked her daughter, smiling when she shook her head. "He is still going to love you."
"Epeidí i alítheia eínai óti o gámos den eínai ómorfos. Because the truth is, marriage is not beautiful and that is why he would know all that." Rhea looked down at her daughter as she said those words. "Marriage is ugly. You see the absolute worst in someone. You see them when they're mad, sad, being stubborn, when they're so unlovable they make you scream."
"But you also get to see them when they are laughing so hard that tears run down their face, and they can't help but let out those weird gurgling noise
s. You see them at 3 a.m. when the world is asleep except you two, and you're eating in the middle of the kitchen floor. You get to see the side of them that no one else does, and it's not always pretty. It's snorting while laughing, it's the tears when it feels like it's all crashing down, it's the farting, it's the bedhead and the bad breath, it's the random dances, it's the anger and the joy."
"Marriage isn't a beautiful thing, but it is amazing." Rhea looked down at her daughter with her eyes crinkling at the sides and a gentle smile directed her way, her entire expression speaking from experience. "It's knowing that someone loves you so much, and won't leave you even though you said something nasty. It's having someone have your back no matter what. Its fights over stupid things, like someone not doing the dishes or not picking up after themselves. And it's those nights where you fall asleep in each other's arms, feeling like there will never be enough time with them."
"It's cleaning up their throw up, or just rubbing their back when they're sick. It's the dirtiest, hardest, most rewarding job there is. Because at the end of the day you get to crawl into bed with your best friend, the weirdest, most annoying, loving, goofy, perfect person that you know." Rhea shook her head with a chuckle, no doubt thinking about her own husband as she spoke those words and rubbed Nicole's back. "Marriage isn't beautiful, but it is one heaven of a ride."
Nicole opened her mouth to say something but closed it when no sound came out. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she tried again and failed.
"I'm sorry, Nicole," Her mother sighed, hugging her daughter close. "I'm sorry because I didn't know how to raise you. I had been raised one way and I thought this was the right way, but I was wrong, and I'm sorry. And I don't expect you to forgive me, but I just want you to know that I love you."
"Mama..." Her voice trailed, not understanding why her heart sank to her stomach, why this felt like a goodbye.
"Come," Rhea pulled her up, getting off the bed with Nicole in tow. "Come," She urged and opened her wardrobe, pushing her towards it.