by Bree Porter
“I hope they like New York,” she replied.
I yawned, cracking out my joints.
“I’ll let you go. Thanks for talking to me.”
“Anytime,” I said. “People are talking to you in New York, right? This isn’t the first human conversation you’ve had, right?”
I couldn’t see her face, so it made it hard to decipher if the answer she gave me was correct. “Like I said,” she answered, “I get left alone.”
We said our goodbyes, and I went back to bed. Polpetto darted straight for his bed, making himself comfortable before falling down dramatically and into an immediate deep sleep.
I crawled over the bed, tucking myself under the blankets. Instantly, Alessandro’s arm came around me.
“How’s your little friend?” His voice was groggy with sleep.
“Elena is fine. Safe, happy.” I buried my face into his neck, breathing him in. “You were right about Thaddeo. He’s not that bad.”
Alessandro made a noise of agreement before his breathing slowed back down, soft snores coming soon after.
I kissed him gently before closing my eyes and letting the rise and fall of his chest nurse me into dreamless sleep.
T he Historical Society welcomed Salisbury back with open arms, nothing but excited to have one of their beloved members return. To celebrate, I invited them to tour Sneaky Sal’s—minus Nicoletta’s attic and the moonshine tunnels turn dungeons.
I couldn’t imagine how they would all react to see the Outfit’s enemies locked away, to know that this speakeasy was housing some of the country’s worst criminals. Since Don Piero’s will was still up the air, no one challenged my claim to the speakeasy or allowing people to tour it.
A tour guide led us around, detailing the Prohibition era and what that meant for the mafia.
I smiled at the tour guide’s stories, feeling almost proud of my ancestors. Sometimes breaking the law was lucrative, and they figured that out quickly.
I was having a good time, talking to everyone, laughing off my ownership of Sneaky Sal’s. As it went on, I could see the late mayor growing more and more irritated. He hadn’t liked that I was the center of attention. So when Salisbury challenged me, I wasn’t that surprised. He was nothing if not predictable.
“Did you know that?” he said loudly to me in response to something the tour guide had said. His sticky smile was plastered on his face. “That the original owner of this speakeasy was part of the mafia?”
“Why wouldn’t she know that?” Mary Inada asked.
“Sophia is our newest member,” Salisbury replied, acting like he had somehow caught me unawares. “I was just making sure.”
I smiled. “Of course. That is what the tour guide just said. Did you know that moonshine was made out of paint?”
“Yes,” he said stiffly. “I did.”
“Just making sure.” I kept my smile bright, my eyes light, but my tone was sharp. “Oh, look at gorgeous painting!”
Everyone turned and buzzed over the piece of art I had pointed out. Stolen, but Don Piero had been arrogant enough to put his illegal goods on display. Who was going to take it away from him?
Because Salisbury had made a power play, I decided to show him what I had been doing while he was sulking in his bedroom. I looped my arms with the Inadas and fussed over Esperanza’s birthday party. Whenever I caught him about to open his mouth, I quickly started a conversation, making it clear that I may be the newest member, but I was by far the most loved.
Eventually, Salisbury fell to the back of the pack, mute.
My phone rang, Alessandro’s name lighting up the screen. I excused myself, disappearing down familiar halls for some privacy.
“Having fun?” Alessandro asked.
I made my way up the stairs, laughing. “A blast. What about you and Dante?”
“We’re good. I just put him down.”
I checked the time on my phone. “So soon?”
“It’s twenty minutes until his nap, Sophia,” Alessandro reminded me gently. “He was ready to go to sleep.”
They’re fine, I told myself. Alessandro is not stupid. Giving up control of Dante to my husband had been an unexpectedly hard thing to do, but I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Dante was as much Alessandro’s son as mine.
“If you’re growing bored, you can come home,” Alessandro said. “Dante will sleep for another hour. We could entertain ourselves.”
I rolled my eyes. Alessandro was insatiable. “Is that right? You’re going to be able to entertain me with your bum knee?”
He cursed his father. “I could make it work.”
I laughed and stepped into Nicoletta’s attic. Sheets covered the leftover furniture, dust beginning to form.
“Have you heard from your brother?” I asked.
“Always plotting...” Alessandro sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “No, I haven’t, my love. He is probably melting somewhere.”
“It’s December.”
“Ah, well, then he got lost in the snow.”
Salvatore Jr had been very quiet—arguably too quiet. After Toto had agreed to support Alessandro and I, a strange sense of anticipation had begun to arise in the Outfit. Everyone knew that before the month was over, they would have their don, their king.
And after months without leadership, the Chicago Outfit was ready to welcome a new era.
Alessandro or Salvatore? Everyone seemed to be asking. Oldest or youngest?
I had gone to extreme lengths to make Alessandro and I look like the most favorable candidates. We had a son—an heir; I ran every social event in the family. Neither of us faltered, showed weakness.
But if my brother-in-law got the drop on us...if he managed to kill my husband...
I pressed a hand to my chest and leaned against the closest wall.
“My love, are you okay?” Alessandro asked from the other end of the phone. “You’ve gone quiet.”
“I’m worried about your brother.”
He sighed. “Me too.” He would’ve never admitted those words to anyone but me, and I held them tightly, comforted by his honesty.
“What do you think his next move is going to be?”
“I have no idea,” Alessandro said. “But it will be planned, meticulous.” Then he added, “Oscuro is with you?”
“He’s downstairs.”
My husband made a disapproving noise. “You should be with him at all times, Sophia. We are at war.”
“I’ll go get him now.” I made to step out of Nicoletta’s room but a shift in the dust made me pause.
Leading into the room was a pattern of footprints. They went from the door to the back of the attic, past the abandoned furniture.
That’s just your footprints, I told myself, before noticing my own heeled marks, which looked nothing like the foreign set.
“I don’t hear you going to get Oscuro,” Alessandro said.
“Just a moment,” I muttered, following the footprints. “Have you been in Nicoletta’s room—?”
I cut off with a scream.
“Sophia!”
The phone fell out of my hand, hitting the floor with a crack.
No, no, no.
I stumbled back, my heel catching in a sheet. My hands came to my mouth, cutting off the piercing cry that was coming from me.
It couldn’t be. There was no way.
just feet away, slumped like a ragdoll, surrounded in a pool of dried blood, was Adelasia di Traglia. She stared up at the ceiling, eyes empty and lifeless. Already her skin had begun to grey.
So young, so innocent, and now lying alone and lifeless in the speakeasy’s attic.
No way Don Piero would have kept her here. We couldn’t have missed her so easily, our scouts couldn’t have been so useless, Salvatore Jr was not stupid enough—
And yet, here she was.
There was a loud crash behind me and Oscuro came skidding into the room. “Shit, Alessandro called me, why—” He spotted Adelasia and fe
ll quiet, face slack with shock. “That’s not good.”
No, it’s not good! I wanted to screech but couldn’t make a noise that wouldn’t lead to another scream. I covered my mouth, trying to swallow down the rising panic and nausea.
Oscuro bent down and picked up my phone. Alessandro was still on the line, his angry yelling audible. “Uh, sir…yeah, she is fine, but you need to get here. Now.” He looked to me. “Why? Uh...it’s best not to say over the phone, sir. You need to see it for yourself.”
That was how Alessandro found us.
Oscuro leaned against the wall, pale, while I sat on a couch, head in hands. Unmoved, Adelasia remained where she was, still very, very dead.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the di Traglias. How would I tell them Adelasia was gone? How would I be able to lessen that pain, that failure of mine?
How would I stop them from breaking the Outfit apart?
You know, said a small dark voice in my head.
“Sophia!” Alessandro beelined straight for me, cutting off all thoughts about the di Traglias. His hands roamed over my head and arms, looking for non-existent injuries.
“I’m fine,” I murmured.
He spotted Adelasia next and swore.
When Sergio and Nero came in behind him, they had similar reactions to her lifeless body. Swearing and cussing, unable to figure out what the next course of action was.
“Did your brother do this?” I asked.
Alessandro couldn’t tell me no. “My brother is in Evanston, according to my father. And...he is not exactly known for getting his hands dirty.”
The many attempts on my life proved that. Not once had he been the one pulling the trigger. No, each time he had relaxed security, moved a few men around, and let those who had vendettas against me do all the dirty work.
The attack on Adelasia was not his style, but he could have easily encouraged someone else to do it for him. He may not have caused her wounds, but the blood was on his hands.
To his men, Alessandro said, “Call Li Fonti. I want to know the cause of death now.”
Sergio stepped away, phone already to his ear.
Nero stepped closer to the body, eyeing it coolly. “It looks like blunt force trauma to the head, boss. That’s where the blood is coming from.”
As the Outfit’s assassino, Nero probably had the most experience with bodies. Still, his blasé nature made me tense.
My husband left me and neared the body. Unable to be out of the loop, I rose and joined them, trying not to throw up at the sight of her crumpled skull.
Despite her wounds, Adelasia looked untouched. The sweater and pants she wore were not rumpled or ripped, only loose and comfortable. I tried not to imagine her relaxing, being comfortable. She was dead now, dreaming up anything else would only cause me pain.
Something caught my eye on her arm. I crouched down, ignoring the aroma of the blood, and eyed her wrist.
“She’s wearing a hospital bracelet.” I couldn’t believe it. Who had taken her to the hospital? Had anybody seen her? Perhaps there were security cameras...
“Does it say which hospital?”
I leaned closer, pinching my nose. “It does.”
Alessandro crouched down beside me, leaning in. “That’s right around the corner.”
I looked to her stomach, and gently reached out. The flesh was soft and squishy, not hard and swollen.
Another urge to vomit rose up in me.
“The baby...” I turned to Alessandro, he was already looking at me, jaw tense. “It would be premature, but there is a very good chance...”
He nodded once, rising to his feet. He stretched his hand down to me, which I took. I linked my fingers in his, holding tight.
“Nero, don’t let anything happen to the body. Sergio, Oscuro, you’re with Sophia and I.”
Alessandro’s strange anger had settled over him again.
That calm, quiet rage that he held. Both Oscuro and Sergio gave him a wide berth, keeping their eyes trained strictly on the road and trying not to breath too loud, less they set him off.
I sat in the backseat with my husband, trying to unravel this new fury of his.
“Why are you staring at me, Sophia?” he asked, dark eyes flicking to me.
I brushed down some wild strands of his hair. He leaned into my touch. “I’m trying to understand this new temperament of yours,” I whispered.
Alessandro’s eyebrows rose. “New temperament?”
Did he not realize? “You’re calmer, almost. No longer yelling and storming around the place, ready to enact violence. But...different somehow. It’s quite terrifying.”
“You don’t sound very afraid.”
“You need me,” I told him. “What would you have for dinner if I wasn’t here, hmm?”
Humor flashed briefly over his face. There and gone in an instant.
I leaned closer to him, creating our own little bubble in the backseat. “Why don’t you get as angry anymore?”
“I’m still just as angry.” Alessandro picked at a strand of my hair, wrapping it around his finger. “I’m just not as volatile.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I don’t have a good answer for you. I just see you in my mind’s eye, calm and patient, and seem to relax.”
“So, it’s my fault? Your men will be pleased to know.”
Alessandro smiled and leaned down for a kiss, his lips hot and searching.
We arrived at the hospital quickly, mainly thanks to Oscuro’s lack of regard for road laws. Thankfully, it was not the same place where I had given birth to Dante. The traumatic memories surrounding that day were best left in the past.
The nurse at the reception almost fainted when she took in the four of us. It was that shock that stopped her from running away, allowing me to say, “Hi. We’re here to visit our sister. Her name is Adelasia di Traglia? Sorry, we don’t have a room number.” I laughed like we were idiots.
The nurse didn’t move, eyes still huge.
“Adelasia di Traglia?” I prompted.
Slowly, she crouched down and typed at the computer. “We only have one di Traglia. She checked out yesterday.” Her fearful gaze darted to the three men behind.
I waved a hand, catching her attention. “Oh, don’t mind them. Yesterday, did you say? We must have just missed her.”
“Are you here to pick up the baby?” the nurse suddenly asked, frowning down at the screen again.
I nodded. “We are, we are. The hospital said to come down.”
She didn’t seem to notice the story change. Only nodded, stood, and waved a shaky hand, “Nurse Farrah deals with all the baby stuff. She will be in the nursery.”
We followed the nurse through the sterile halls, eventually arriving at the nursery. Parents cooed at their wrinkly newborns while nurses bustled around.
“I can’t believe Dante was that small!” I said when I spotted some of the newborns.
“He likes to eat,” Alessandro said protectively.
I rolled my eyes, still astounded at how much my baby had grown.
Nurse Farrah was confused to see us. She was a short woman, dressed in blue scrubs with little patterns of ducks on them.
“Baby di Traglia has already been taken into custody,” she said. “Who did you say rung you? Someone at this hospital?”
I tried not to reveal the poisonous cocktail of emotions swirling inside of me. “Do you know who picked up the baby?”
“I’m afraid that is confidential.”
Alessandro stepped forward, no longer bothering with small talk and niceties. Nurse Farrah paled at the sight of him, recognizing him immediately. “Who took the child? Tell us now.”
Nurse Farrah grabbed her clipboard and rushed through the pages. “Uh...yesterday...here it is! Male, di Traglia, was taken into the custody of one...Tristan Dupont.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry what?”
“A Tristan Dupont?” She looked between Alessandro and I, stepping back at the si
ght of our expressions. “Do you know him? Blue eyes, blond hair?”
“Oh,” I said, “we know him.”
The FBI had finally made their move after weeks of radio silence, and it was a strategic one. They had taken something that belonged to the Outfit, something that belonged to the Rocchettis. The hospital wasn’t to blame—I was sure Special Agent Dupont had been able to easily convince them he was the legal guardian of the child.
The anger that ran through me was indescribable.
Even after everything they had done, from helping the Gallaghers attack my wedding to bombing Narcisa and Sergio’s wedding reception, the Outfit had not retaliated. Violence toward a government agency was a lot more finicky than attacking some fellow gangsters.
But this...this was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Alessandro was silent as we left the hospital, the only sign of his burning fury was the clenching and unclenching of his fists.
“I’m going to kill them,” he said softly to me, tone sweet enough to be a confession of love. “I’m going to kill them all.”
I pressed my lips to his cheek. “No. We’re going to do worse things to them.”
His eyes met mine. “We had a deal, my love. I handle the gangsters and you the politicians.”
“Is this agency not filled with politics and white collars?” I asked. “This is my area of expertise, Alessandro.”
I couldn’t have loved him any more than in that moment, when he asked me, “What did you have in mind?”
Behind us, both Sergio and Oscuro had grown tenser, unable to hide their own growing fury. They were as much a part of this organization as Alessandro and I, and they had taken this insult as personally as us.
I felt my plan growing in my brain, forming and stitching together. Years and years of playing by the rules, pretending, and acting the part seemed to lead up to this moment. Seemed to prepare me for this very circumstance.
I would need my husband. His men. Maybe even my father-in-law.
And a pair of scissors.
I smiled and pressed a hand to my husband’s cheek. “How do you feel about going on another holiday?”
T he Washington D.C. wind stung the back of my neck, so cold it felt like individual icicles digging into my skin. I pulled my beanie down further, trying to minimize my discomfort.