Love and Chaos

by S. M. Soto

  My eyes burn with emotion just thinking about it. About the way I wanted to kill. Thinking about her. A year wasn’t nearly enough time to forget the pain. To fill the hole in my heart now that she was six feet under. It got harder and harder every day. Even now as I feel the tears slip free.

  Matteo freezes when he sees the moisture glide down my bruised face. His face turns an odd shade of red as he stares at me, eyes burning with hellfire. I might’ve been named after the Devil, but it was a false prophecy because he truly was the only Devil here.

  “Figlio…” His voice is cold, and as he takes a step toward me, I scramble back, realizing my mistake. “Are you crying?” His whispered voice is brimming with violence.

  He’s not asking because he cares, he’s asking because we don’t cry. No matter what. It’s a weakness you never show others. And there’s only one time I’ve watched my father cry. He hasn’t done it since.

  “I won’t let anyone speak ill of her. Not even you,” I growl, swiping at the tears on my face angrily. The vein in the center of his forehead protrudes, straining against the tan skin.

  “She’s gone!” he suddenly barks. His hands shove at my chest, sending me reeling backward. “She’s never coming back! What are you going to do? Cry and fight every time someone mentions her name? Giving everyone from the other famiglias insight into your pain, showing your weakness?” This time, when his hands shove against my chest, my body flies backward, sailing toward the ground.

  My father looks down at me with his chest heaving, disgust painted on his face. “You’re weak,” he seethes down at me, his words scathing. “You’ll never survive in this life. You’ll never be nothing more than a child, crying because he lost his mother. You’ll never be anything.” With those harsh words, he turns to leave, Giovanni on his heels. I watch them go, my eyes narrowing with anger, that same rage seeping in, filling my vision. Before I realize what I’m doing, I snatch the knife off the table and charge my father. I raise the knife in the air behind him, trying to sink it into his back, when he whirls around as if he knew I would do this.

  With ease, he knocks the knife out of my hold, his hand grasping me by the neck and slamming my body into the wall opposite of us. My father’s grip tightens around my throat, squeezing the life out of me as he gets in my face. His words blow across my face aggressively.

  “When you’re going to take a man’s life, Diavolo, look him in the eyes while doing it. Or you’ll forever be a coward.” With his grip around my neck, he tosses me to the ground, my body painfully colliding with the tile.

  The click of his Italian shoes is all I hear as he retreats before, “Teach him a lesson, Gio. Make it fucking stick this time.”

  My eyes fling open, taking in the darkened room, and as I look at the décor, I let out a growl of frustration. Fucking hell. I didn’t mean to fall asleep in here. After resurrecting Finlay and participating in more torture, I came up here to shower. I sat back on the bed in the empty guest bedroom. The one I’ve been using after finishing jobs for Matteo and finishing in the basement with Finlay. With the en suite bathroom, I didn’t have to worry about stumbling into our bedroom and Sophia catching me soaked in blood.

  After showering, I sat back on the bed for a second and I must’ve fallen asleep. A glance at the time has me groaning even more.

  Son of a bitch.

  I quietly open the bedroom door, with plans to sneak inside unnoticed, but that all goes to shit when I see Sophia sitting on the edge of the bed, glaring daggers at me. She flicks on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room in dim light and I read the suspicion in her eyes. I can practically feel her hurtful gaze incinerating me.

  Fuck. So much for sneaking in unnoticed.

  I try not to think about Creed and what he could possibly be doing to Finlay—wherever they are. He deserves it. There’s no doubt about that. But I still can’t help but feel sad for Finlay. He’s never been loved and that’s why he’s done what he’s done. He just wanted to be loved. I think he truly believed if everything went according to his plan, I would love him.

  At one point in time, I considered Finlay a friend. He was charming. Took the time to make me laugh when I didn’t think I could laugh anymore. He was different than the rest of the guys were at the safe house; he had a softer side that he wasn’t afraid to let me see. While I was scared there was a traitor amongst my brother and Creed, I never once suspected it would be him. I shared things with him, in the late hours of the night, while sitting in the library when I couldn’t sleep and Creed was nowhere to be found, that I hadn’t shared with anyone. My fears. How much I missed my parents. How scared I really was.

  I told him all of that in confidence and he betrayed that confidence. Betrayed that trust because he knew the truth all along. He was the reason for every ounce of my pain. He was the reason I was taken, the reason those men hurt me. He was at the cause and root for everything bad in my life. And I hated him for it. My feelings were so contradictory that I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

  I couldn’t deny there was this darkness that seemed to grow bigger and bigger inside of me after everything that has happened. I’ve tried fighting it, not wanting to be that person, but I’m starting to wonder, where is it getting me? Nowhere. Absolutely nowhere.

  Creed seems to embrace his darkness and it only makes him stronger. Why shouldn’t I?

  Sitting on the edge of our bed, I let my thoughts whir as I wait for him to come to bed. It’s already three in the morning. I’ve been waiting up for him to show, he usually does around this hour. And this time…I’m not just going to lay back and let him keep secrets. Creed is going to talk to me and answer my questions tonight, whether he likes it or not.

  Creed finally sneaks into the room thinking I’m asleep, much like I have been the past few nights. I narrow my eyes on his dark form slipping into our bedroom. He doesn’t seem like he’s been out torturing anyone, if anything he looks as well put together as always. Still incredibly tall and brooding, with that dark, domineering presence. He was so handsome, sometimes it hurt to look at him. This was one of those times.

  The moonlight shines in through the drapes, casting enough shadows for me to see him trying to sneak in and stay quiet. My lips thin as I reach to the side of our bed and flick on the bedside lamp. Creed freezes, that cold gaze filled with shards of ice snapping up to mine.

  “It’s pretty late.” I try to keep my tone even. I don’t want to give away just how angry I am that we’ve gotten here. “Where have you been?”

  His silence is answer enough for me. I don’t even need him to utter the words. I already know where he’s been, the fact that he’s already showered gives him away. Creed pauses for a beat as he comes in, probably hearing the inflection in my tone.

  “I had some stuff to finish for Matteo.” His face is blank. Closed off and void of any emotion. I grit my teeth. Hating that he’s lying to me again. My discussion with Matteo earlier was answer enough for me.

  I thought we were past this? Especially after last night—or what I should really say is the early hours of the morning.

  I know I agreed to stay out of this part of things, but if it concerns Finlay, it concerns me too, no matter what he thinks. I have a right to know what’s keeping him away at almost all hours of the day and night, and what’s holding all his interest. I hardly ever see him. Between jobs for Matteo, secret meetings with Clarence and Monte, group meetings with the guys, then having him disappear for hours on end. What else am I supposed to think?

  When he finally comes back showered, but mood somber, I don’t know what to think anymore or even how to feel. Part of me understands Creed’s need to protect me from the bad things in his world, and I love him for it, for wanting to protect me and our son from the bad and taking everything on himself—taking the weight of the world on his shoulders. But I want him to know he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t always have to be the one carrying everything around on his shoulders.

  I hate this. The distance
between us. That barrier that has seemed to form ever since the park incident. I understand his need to make Finlay pay, but at what risk, losing his last shred of humanity?

  I get that this is the trained killer in him, the man he sees as the Devil, but that isn’t the only person I fell in love with. I fell in love with all of him and right now I’m only getting one side of his Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personality, and I don’t like it.

  “Of course you did.” There’s a bit of snark in my tone and I don’t even try to mask it this time, not like I did last night. Like a flip switching, I suddenly want him to know just how angry and fed up I am. I’ve had enough. I miss him. And not just his body against mine. I miss him. Our conversations. The connection we share.

  Creed glances at me, his head cocked the tiniest bit to the side, picking up on the frustration in my tone.

  He raises his brows. “Something wrong?”

  I can’t help it. I scoff. “Wrong? Oh, no, nothing at all. Just the fact that you’re gone all the time, leaving me alone, doing god knows what” —I jab an angry finger at him— “and don’t you dare lie to my face again Creed and say it’s for Matteo because I’m not an idiot.”

  A look of indifference passes over his face and it only serves to piss me off even more. So that’s how we’re playing it? He’s just going to revert to his old asshole-ish ways and shut me out with the cold shoulder?

  Real mature.

  “It’s been weeks. Weeks since you’ve had him and you still haven’t let go, Creed. You’re still disappearing where? To torture him? Don’t you think enough is enough?”

  “It’ll never be enough,” he grits, and I press my lips together, expecting him to say as much.

  “So you think leaving me, pregnant and to my own devices is better? You think I haven’t noticed the change in you? You’re different! You’re turning into the old you again. The you that couldn’t even spare me a glance or give me a moment of his time!”

  That seems to get to him because he gives me a cruel smirk. “This is me. It always has been, Sophia.”

  I shoot to my feet, anger boiling in my veins. My body is trembling with it. How dare he. How fucking dare he try to push me away after everything we’ve been through.

  “Don’t give me that bullshit! I have a right to know what’s going on. And I have just as much a right and a say so in what happens to him.”

  That blank mask of indifference slides off his face, morphing into anger at my words, just like I knew it would. “Like fuck you do! I’m taking care of him.”

  “He hurt me, not you! He killed my family, not yours! He did it all to me, not you, Creed. This wasn’t some personal vendetta against you, he’s fucking sick. You’ve taught him his lesson, now it’s time to wash your hands and be done with it.”

  “I know that!” he yells, the veins in his temple straining in his anger.

  I raise my hands up in exasperation and let them drop down to my sides, slapping my legs. “Do you really? Because you’re acting like a stranger. We’re having a child,” my voice waivers with emotion. “I don’t need you out somewhere torturing someone. I need you here with me. With us.”

  “Who do you think I’m doing it for, huh?”

  I bark out a sharp laugh causing the baby to kick. “Don’t pretend this is just for me and him. Don’t you dare. This is for you.”

  His jaw tenses.

  “Damn fucking right. He took what was mine and now he’s paying for it,” he seethes.

  Tears burn the backs of my eyes and I shake my head, giving up. I don’t know what else to say to him. How else to get through. Instead, I move away from the bed and pad into the bathroom, pausing to glare at him. It falls short. Instead, sadness creeps into my face and into my tone as I stare up at the man I love.

  “Finish this, Creed. Please.” I turn around, walking into the bathroom to hide my tears and slam the door.

  IT’S BEEN DAYS SINCE MY argument with Creed and though things have been a little strained, he’s making an effort or at the very least, that’s the way it seems. He isn’t out so late. He spends most of the mornings in bed with me before having to get to “work.” I feel relatively better about everything. No longer so worried about that distance I felt growing between us.

  That is until I head down to the kitchen for a snack, with the help of Alexis and we pause listening to Lorenzo and the rest of the guys talk. I don’t hear Creed’s voice, but the rest of them are talking about the basement.

  My ears perk, and my brows pull down as I walk closer trying to hear them more clearly.

  “There’s no doubt he wishes he was dead. Shit, he’s already died twice. He just keeps reviving him.”

  My stomach twists.

  My chest rises and falls with anger.

  What the hell?

  I twist my head to look back at Alexis. but she looks wary as if eavesdropping on this conversation is making her uncomfortable.

  Too freaking bad.

  “Yeah, he just finished. Think he’s heading back in later tonight to squeeze a few more rounds in with him.”

  I feel sick with betrayal. With anger. With hurt.

  How dare he keep this up?

  I thought I had gotten through to him. I thought he would understand how much I need him here with me, not with him.

  Not waiting around to hear anything more, I storm off in search of Creed; Alexis is hot on my heels, trying to keep up with me. She keeps calling after me, trying to get me to slow down and cool off first, before confronting him, but I don’t listen.

  When I do find Creed, my anger has crested, fully boiling over now, and I let him have it.

  “You fucking liar!” I yell, my voice echoing around the sleek, masculine lines of his office. He whirls at the sound of my shrill voice with a crystal tumbler in hand, surprise etched on his face. He’s never one to be surprised, so I use it to my advantage.

  “He’s been here…this whole entire time?” My voice is eerily calm. The effect of it sends a chill down my own spine. Creed squares his shoulders and slowly sets the glass on the table. His movements are slow and methodical, like he doesn’t want to startle me. “You mean to tell me, I poured my heart out to you the other night, begging for you to end it, and you still haven’t?”

  His lips thin. “I was going to. Tonight.”

  I inhale a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Take me down to him right now, Creed, or so help me…”

  He scowls. “I’m not letting you see—”

  “This isn’t up for discussion! Do you understand me? Where’s my part? Where do I get my closure, huh? How is any of this fucking fair to me?” After my rant, I’m feeling a little winded, so I brace my hands on my knees and wheeze, trying to pull in deep breaths. I right myself, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. My hands are trembling from the adrenaline. From all the rage coursing through my body.

  “Sophia—” Creed starts, but I cut him off.

  “I said enough!” I scream. Then double over when I get a sharp pain in my center. My hands fly to my stomach and grip my belly, soothing away the pain.

  “Sophia! Shit!” Creed growls, running to me. My arm shoots out, stopping him in his place, not letting him get any closer to me. I pick my head up, with tears in my eyes, and I shoot him a glare.

  “I said enough, Creed,” I say much more quietly this time. “Finish this. Or we’re gone.”

  My words are like a blow to his chest. I watch as he flinches. His mouth thinning into a grim line.

  He steps into me with worry etched across his face. He tries reaching out for me, but I slap his hands away, not wanting his help. I don’t need him to find any excuse to keep me away from seeing Finlay and ending this once and for all.

  “I’m not kidding, Creed.”

  “And neither am I.” He crosses his thick arms over his chest. “You’re not even in there yet and look at you.”

  “Just stop it! For five fucking seconds stop treating me like I’m made of glass, okay? Pregnant
women have survived in worse conditions. Just fucking stop.”

  He glowers down at me.

  “Take me to him, right now.” I’ve never heard my voice sound so cold. So resolute. Guess I perfected it from him.

  “I’m not doing that, Sophia. And I think you know why.”

  I curl my hands into fists and suppress the impending tears by sucking my bottom lip into my mouth. I brush past Creed and push him out of the way. He tries to grasp onto me, heaving a deep sigh.

  “Soph, wait.”

  I shrug off his hold and waltz out of his office and down the hall. I stride away from him, fuming. I make a left down the hall, veering into the west wing of the estate, nearing the library. I just need a moment to myself. To stew in anger, maybe get lost in a few books and try not to lose my mind.

  I don’t want to make any rash decisions. And leaving? That is about as rash as it gets.

  I’m not entirely sure how long I sit there trying to cool off, but it’s long enough for me to open one of the many older books on the shelf, the edges frayed and dusted. I open the book, my heart stilling when I see the name scrawled inside, in beautiful penmanship.

  I flip through the pages, pages Creed’s mother has touched, trying to find strength in them. How did she do it for so long? How did she deal with all the secrecy? I’m sure my relationship with Creed wasn’t like her relationship with Matteo, but the similarities, both of us having to deal with men who have their souls wrapped up in the Cosa Nostra can’t be so different.

  I shift on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position. The light shining in from the window casts a warm glow throughout the room. That light suddenly dims, and when I look up, it’s because there’s a shadow blocking the light. I startle when I turn around, finding Creed standing in the doorway of the library. He looks calm and collected. His expression gives nothing else away. His gaze darts around the expanse of the room like he’s never seen it before.