Dead or Alive: Part One (The Scarsi Family Series Book 2)

by Dee Garcia

  “I love her, Titi,” I said, mostly because it didn’t give too much away. Not that it wasn’t the complete truth, because it was, but at least this way I had the opportunity to dig a little and see just how much Mama had divulged. A small part of me wanted to believe she hadn’t said much of anything, but again, it was a very small part. Considering how incensed she was with me, I knew damn well she’d probably ranted to my poor aunt for hours.

  Pushing off the counter, my aunt made her way toward me and wound an arm around my shoulders, offering a supportive squeeze. “Yo lo se, mijo, I know. But fleeing the country? What did you two do?”

  “I promise you, we didn’t do anything. It’s her family, they don’t approve of us,” I explained.

  “But why?”

  “Her father and I... We, uh, had a deal that went sour.”

  It was only after I said it that I realized I’d said too much. I hadn’t meant to. It just…came out.

  “What kind of deal?”

  “I…I…” Now, I hesitated. This was bleeding into territory I didn’t want either her or Mama knowing about.

  “¿Son mala gente?” she probed, lifting a curious and equally wary brow.

  Are they bad people?

  That’s what she’d asked me.

  Despite my not so pleasant interactions with some of the Scarsis, I couldn’t find it in me to label them as bad people. Misguided? Yes. Forced into a “legacy” since early on in their lives? Also yes, because surely Vincent wasn’t the founding father of this empire. He was as helpless to falling into the harrowing clutches of the family business as were any of his children. That’s how these mafia families worked. Everything was sparked tens upon tens of years ago, handed down proudly through the generations to the next strapping heir. The things these kids learned in their childhood was more than any child should ever know; yet for them, it was the norm. Conditioning at its finest. By the time they were grown adults, they were so immune to what the world viewed as bad, it didn’t affect them in the slightest.

  Taking the lives of those who’d failed to return what they’d borrowed was just another part of their day. Another day, another dollar.

  “Xander,” my auntie said suddenly, darting my eyes to hers.

  She was steadily awaiting an answer and I honestly had none to give her. I didn’t want to lie yet again but I also didn’t want to throw the Scarsis under the proverbial bus. Plus, if I chose the honest route now, I’d then have to burden my aunt with the promise of not forwarding any of it to my mom.

  “They’re not bad people, they’re just…” I trailed off, scrubbing a hand down my face. “They’re just angry. But it can’t last forever. They’ll get over it eventually, Titi.”

  “Had you stayed in New York, yes, I could see that. But you took off, nene.”

  “I know but we had to, and with how close they are, I think Eden’s absence will hit them where it hurts, make them realize tearing us apart isn’t in their best interest, isn’t worth their time.”

  My aunt just stared at me. Frigid waves of worry oozed out of her, prickling my skin. “Ay, Xander, what have you gotten yourself into?” She dropped her face into her hands, shaking her head.

  I counted about five deep breaths before she turned to regard me once more, brows furrowed together. “Does she love you?”

  “Very much.”

  Those two simple words didn’t come from me but from Eden, who was now standing awkwardly in the kitchen, her blonde locks a gloriously adorable mess. Clad in only the white t-shirt my aunt had given me, she looked incredibly beautiful, especially after uttering those words with such confidence.

  My auntie swiftly whipped her head around, cheeks reddening slightly in embarrassment. She was on the verge of belting out some sort of an “I’m sorry” when Eden smiled softly and waved her off, coming to stand at the breakfast counter with us.

  “It’s okay, I’d be asking the same question if it were my nephew. But yes, I love him, very, very much.”

  “I believe you,” my aunt offered, taking one of Eden’s hands, “and it makes my heart happy knowing my nephew is loved, but all of this is such a mess.”

  “I know, but it was all the choice we had, Mrs.—”

  “Cristina, please.”

  “Right, Cristina”—Eden smiled again—“it was really all the choice we had. That, or…”

  “Or what?”

  My girl looked to me for assistance. She didn’t know what to say but I could see how desperately she wanted to be honest and completely transparent. I did too. We couldn’t though. Not now. I shook my head, and my auntie knowingly caught wind of us sharing a silent exchange.

  “What is it you don’t want her to say, Xander?” she queried immediately.

  “Titi, please. There’s just some things you and Mama are better off not knowing. It’s bad enough I already told you about the deal going sour. Mami doesn’t know that at all.”

  “Technically, I only know of it,” she harrumphed. “No elaboraste nada.”

  “I know I didn’t elaborate, but trust me, you don’t want this shit in your head. It’s just going to upset you for a number of different reasons, and I don’t want you worrying.”

  “I’m already worrying, nene. There’s so many places my mind is going off to right now.” Her eyes traveled over the slash on my cheek, the bandages on my arms…

  My lips thinned thoughtfully. “Don’t. Everything is going to be okay. We just need to lay low for a little while, away from everyone and everything.”

  “But how? Don’t you think this is going to make her family angrier?”

  “My dad is really angry,” Eden cut in before I could respond, “and my eldest brother has a temper. They’re stubborn and set in their ways when it comes to certain things, but we’re close-knit. Me vanishing from their lives will emphasize the fact that this is my life, and who I chose to walk beside is not up for them to approve or disapprove of. I’m a grown woman. I may be the youngest, but they need to respect me as I respect them.”

  Nothing had ever been more true. She was one-hundred percent right on the money. Yes, they were her family and they would always protect her, no matter what, just like they’d protect the integrity of their business. But this wasn’t business anymore, it hadn’t been for a long time.

  “You really do love him, don’t you?” My auntie went on to ask Eden after a brief bout of silence, and my girl’s response was instantaneous.

  “I really, really do.”

  My aunt sighed—deeply, I might add—and nodded, glancing between the two of us. “Then I will help you however I can.”

  “All in the name of love, huh,” I threw in, if only to lighten things a smidge, to which my aunt smiled, swiveling her wedding ring around her finger. Even after all these years since my uncle had passed, she still wore it.

  “We’re going to need passports.” It was the first thing that came to mind, mostly because without them, we wouldn’t be getting too far.

  “Me imaginé tanto,” she agreed. “I know somebody.”

  “You do?”

  “Claro! Yo no miento, nene,” she exclaimed, with all the Puerto Rican sass in the world. “I’ll call her tomorrow and find out all the information. Hopefully her husband can help before they leave to Miami for the holidays. Speaking of, que van hacer ustedes?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Probably nothing. Who knows where we’ll be. Not really feeling the holiday cheer.”

  “Oh no. No, no, no. There is no way I am letting you leave until after Christmas then. You’ll spend it here with me. Como que van hacer nada?” she scoffed, now in full-on rant mode at my concession.

  “Titi, we can’t stay that long. They can easily trace our airline tickets and figure out we’re here. We have to keep moving.”

  She waved me off, completely refusing to listen to me. But she’d have to eventually because as nice as it would be to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with her, Eden and I had to keep moving. Where we were
going to next, though, was still undetermined.

  I’m sitting at the formal dining table in my house, surrounded by Daddy and my brothers. Based off the lavish autumn table decor and the plethora of food before me, I quickly deduce it’s Thanksgiving. I gasp as realization sets in. If I’m here, that must mean Xander is somewhere else, or worse yet…

  But then, from the corner of my eye, I catch his dark form shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth. He smiles and I stare at him, along with the scene playing out around me, in utter confusion. When the hell did we get back here? And more importantly, we’re on speaking terms with my family now? Apparently so, because a second later, Alessio asks Xander to pass him the cranberry sauce as though he’s always been a part of the family, and Xander does so without an ounce of contempt.

  “Now that we’ve all eaten a bit and taken off the edge, why don’t we go around the table and share one thing we’re thankful for this year,” Daddy suggests from his place at the head of the table.

  “You first, Pa.” That’s Gio, whose presence is also a complete shock given the last time I saw him, he was in a hospital bed.

  “Very well,” our dad agrees, wiping the corners of his mouth with a spice colored napkin. He clears his throat and looks around, smiling fondly at us all. “This year, I’m extra thankful for our family and all we’ve overcome. I’m thankful for the great joy coming our way and what the future holds for us.”

  Everyone hums their approval as they continue eating, everyone except me. I look down to my plate and notice the food is untouched. It looks delicious, from the turkey to the stuffing, and everything else in between, but I’m not remotely hungry. I’m baffled beyond belief. How is this happening right now?

  Gio mimics Daddy and clears his throat. “I’m thankful to be alive. I’m also thankful Eden and Xander made it back in one piece.”

  I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t dare look at him or anyone else. I keep my stare downcast, wanting nothing more than to squeeze my eyes shut and vanish into thin air. This can’t be real…

  “I’m thankful for women and the plentiful pussy they offer me,” Matteo goes on crudely at my silence and Daddy immediately grumbles in disapproval about being respectful.

  Everyone laughs, Xander included, but once again, I don’t. I don’t laugh, I don’t move, I don’t do anything.

  “Your turn, Fiore,” Daddy says, prompting me to lift my head in his direction.

  He smiles, but I don’t return it. Instead, I scan the length of the table, the dining room, even Xander beside me. Everything looks perfectly in place except us, and by us, I obviously mean Xander and I. There’s absolutely no way this can be real, yet when he reaches over and squeezes my hand, it feels beyond perfectly real. An ice-cold shiver drips down my spine. Goose bumps dot my skin beneath the thick fabric of my ivory sweater-dress. What the hell is going on?

  “Petal…” my dad’s voice brings me back to the here and now. I glance up at him again to see him tipping his chin toward my plate. “What’s wrong? You haven’t touched a single thing. Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I assure him, though I’m anything but. “I’m just not very hungry right now. Maybe later.”

  He nods, but I see the questioning gleam in his eyes. “Very well. Will you at least share with us what you’re thankful for this year?”

  I offer a nod of my own and attempt to sit up a little straighter as I rack my brain for what to say. I mean, I’m thankful for Xander, but I know they’re expecting to hear me say I’m thankful for this moment being a possibility. How can I be thankful for something I can’t remember happening though? The thought zips unease through every inch of my being but with all eyes on me, I force myself to stifle it down, at least for the time being.

  “This year, I’m thankful for Xander. I’m thankful for all he’s brought to my life, what he’s taught me, how he’s changed me for the better,” I say, reaching out with a shaky hand for the wine glass on my right, but my fingers don’t even graze the goblet before I’m frozen in place by a diabolical laugh. My eyes shoot around the table. No one is laughing. They don’t look concerned or confused either, which leads me to wonder if I’m now hearing things too.

  Until I see the hand.

  A woman’s hand to be precise, the tips of her fingers, long stiletto nails and all, covered in what appears to be soot, like she’d crawled out of somewhere dirty. Very slowly, I turn my head toward her. It’s then I realize she’s sitting in Xander’s place, and Xander is nowhere to be found. Following the lines of her tattered black dress up to her face, I’m taken aback when I’m met with my reflection, except her hair is darker than a raven, deep brown eyes in place of my blues. She’s like some freakish alternate universe twin.

  “You think he’s changed you?” is the first thing she asks me, and I freeze again at the sound of her voice.

  I know who she is. I’ve never seen her before but. I. Know. Who. She. Is. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. This isn’t real—I knew it…

  An amused expression flickers across her face. “Thought you could shut me out forever, huh?”

  I want to look away, but I don’t. I can’t. She’s got me in some invisible hold as she plucks a wine glass off the table and takes a long sip. Only when her eyes rake around the room can I glance through my peripherals for help, but my family is frozen, each one of them perfectly still like a statue.

  “They can’t help you, Eden. No one can. Not even your beloved Xander.”

  My eyes cut back to hers at the sound of his name. She looks pleased as she assesses me, sipping her wine. The minutes tick by in silence until she sets the goblet down in its rightful spot and swivels in her seat to face me directly, crossing one leg over the other. They’re as dirty as her hands.

  “Why can I see you now? Why do you look like me?” I don’t know why I ask her this, but I feel compelled to do so because never in my entire life has she ever had a face. She’s just always been that voice in my head, the voice that fuels The Silent Reaper.

  “Because you seem to be in need of a reminder.”

  “Reminded of what?”

  “That we’re one in the same. You can’t rid yourself of me, Eden. I’ll always be lurking in the shadows of your mind, urging you to be your true self. You may have fallen in love and he may have convinced you I’m merely a thing of your past, but make no mistake, he’s very, very wrong. All the love in the world won’t free you from your darkest desires,” she deadpans, leaning forward to wrap a clawed hand around my throat.

  I can’t breathe. Literally, gasping for air in her hold.

  She revels in it, smiling wickedly, and then her eyes go black, even the whites. Like a demon. She’s terrifying and I want to scream.

  I do scream, and as the walls shake around the high-pitched shrill of my fear, she takes her rightful place within my body without warning.

  Black.

  I woke with a gasp, shooting up from where I laid on Xander’s lap with my chest heaving, my hand lodged around my throat where she’d so firmly held me in place. I could still feel her, regardless of the fact she was no longer there and we were no longer in my house. We were back in Puerto Rico, tucked away safely in Xander’s aunt’s home up in the mountains. We had been for three days already.

  “Angel, what’s wrong?” he asked, muting the television that was showing the evening news.

  I couldn’t answer him, completely muted by the sheer amount of dread and fear crippling me from the inside out. All I could see was her grim face, could only hear her severe and all too valid words. I couldn’t handle it. My heart beat faster than ever before.

  “I need air,” I blurted out, almost unintelligibly, as I shot off the antique floral couch in the living room and bound for the front door, struggling to undo the locks with my shaky, uncoordinated hands. The more I struggled, the harder it became to breathe, like the room would fold in on itself and suffocate me at any moment. I was on the verge of tears, noting that Xander had now r
isen to his feet, when finally the latches released and I slipped my way outside, nearly tripping down the steps of the porch in my haste.

  The setting sun casted pink and gold rays over the small neighborhood as I ran into the driveway and inhaled a lungful of fresh air. Then another and another. Why was this happening? On top of everything Xander and I were already going through, why was this happening now? Why? Why couldn’t she just stay away in the abyss of my mind where I’d locked her up? I didn’t want to be her anymore. I didn’t want to kill anymore, didn’t need to kill anymore. I’d only killed for LeRoux because it was part of the deal. Was she right, though? Was I stupid to believe I could erase her, that I could live a normal life like I hadn’t slaughtered hundreds of people with such dexterity and ease, with enjoyment and satisfaction?

  “Angel,” Xander’s deep voice boomed behind me, startling me right out my skin.

  I should’ve known he’d follow me, so why I was so shocked to hear him I don’t know, but nonetheless, I gasped almost as loudly as when I’d come to, and spun around in a flash. Distressed brown eyes were the first thing I saw, then his furrowed brow and gritted jaw. His hands were clenched at his sides, veins in his arms bulging, knuckles white from strain.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, closing the small amount of space between us.

  The question is…should I tell him?

  One minute passed. Then a second, a third, and a fourth. All the while, Eden simply stood there, wordless, her expression indiscernible, unshed tears rimming her eyes. The way she’d shot up from her cozy place on my lap, sucking in heaps of air, I knew she’d had another nightmare. Nothing remotely as bad as that one time where her screams awoke me in the middle of the night, but still, it was an obvious nightmare. Had her mind taken her back to a similar, or even the same, scenario? Was it worse this time? Had she killed me? Had the Scarsis killed me? Those were just a few of the questions knocking around in my mind, and by the looks of her current state, it didn’t appear I was going to be getting answers anytime soon if I didn’t press her.