by Leah Holt
His hands slipped free, falling to his sides, dangling lifelessly. I wasn't sure where the hell he was going with this or what he was about to say. But he went silent again, so I tried to keep him talking. “Okay, he had a box. What was in the box?”
Stroking the stubble on his chin, Dante walked to the fireplace. I wanted to follow him, touch his back and soothe whatever he was feeling right then. He seemed so lost.
But I didn't. He needed to get out whatever memory was suffocating his brain, and I was going to listen. I had forgotten in the midst of all the shit we were living in, that Bane was still his father.
That had to weigh heavy on him. While he was reeling with his anger about Remo and what he had done, he was also feeling that loss.
Despite the man Bane was, there was still that piece of him that had raised Dante. There was the man who put food on the table, who clothed his children, who loved his family.
Whatever evil lived beneath the surface, it wouldn't just turn off that slice of who he was. I could see that, the pain in Dante's eyes and the change in his stance was so visible.
I should have gone with him to the funeral regardless of what he said.
Talking to the mantle, his voice sounded distant, even though he was right there. The memory was happening in real time in his head, he was living it all over again.
I knew the feeling, it happened to me every night.
“My father always spoke to me like everything he was about to say was the most important thing in the world, and my job was to listen. So that's what I did, I waited and listened. I didn't ask him what was in that box, I didn't try to sneak a peek, I just waited for him to tell me. Everything he did was a lesson, there was always a lesson or some type of test he had for me and my brother.” Lifting his head to the ceiling, he turned back to face me. “Sesto, he always just seemed to get it. He never had to struggle with our life, with the things we were expected to do. That's why he was my father's favorite.”
“Dante, I don't think any parent really has a favorite. I don't know what happened with your brother or in your past. I have a good idea about what you probably went through, but it doesn't matter, your father loved you too.”
His tongue danced behind his lips, a grin lifting to his ear. “You didn't know my father, Ivy.” Leaning against the brick, Dante fiddled with the cuff on his shirt and went on with his story. “So he held this box out and nodded at me to come and take it. It was light, but something was moving around inside. Then my father says to me, 'Dante, tonight we're going to see how much Pisani blood really flows through your veins.' Stepping forward, Dante's hands replayed each word, manifesting his memory in shadowed movements.
My stomach twisted, confusion strangling my brain, making me fearful of what his next words would be.
I might not have known Bane the father, but I had seen Bane the boss; it wasn't inviting or calming. I wanted to think that his story was about loss, about not knowing what to do with the feelings inside.
I wanted to think that at some moment in time his father had treated him with the same love I had once felt. . .
But that wasn't the look I saw in his eyes.
Twisting my bottom lip nervously, I clutched my ribs. “What happened?”
“My dad stepped forward, his hands dangling by his sides, and his eyes. . .” Pausing, he closed his lids tight. “His eyes were black, Ivy, I watched the color drain from them. And you know what?”
“What?” I asked, watching him like his story was more then just a tale. It was like a bad car wreck, where you know you shouldn't look, but your neck twists anyway. I was curious, I was nervous, but I needed to hear it.
“That was the first and only time I felt fear. Can you remember the very first time you felt fear? Like true, muscle-freezing fear?”
My eyes popped open, voice lost in his question. I didn't know how to answer him. I felt more fear with Remo than any single person should ever have to feel in their lifetime, Dante knew that.
But was it the first time I had ever felt it?
Waving away my chance to respond, he went on. “No one really can, it's usually just something you recognize, something you feel, but it's not new. Everyone has felt that at some point in their life, but to remember that exact moment, it does something to you.”
Hugging myself tighter, I said, “I remember the night Remo came for me, I remember the way he smelled, the way his eyes danced inside his sockets like they were being electrified. I know fear, Dante.”
Scratching his chin, he let his eyes drift up, stealing a quiet gasp from my lips. “That was fear, Ivy, I'm not saying you don't understand it. But that feeling, was it new to you, was it something you had never felt before until right then?”
As I thought about his question, a realization bubbled in. He was right.
I had felt that same fear before, I had felt that same shiver scale my spine, that same stale breath seep into my lungs.
But from what?
That memory had slipped away, it was gone and buried behind one that was so much stronger.
Fear was an emotion that everyone learned was there. Whether you experienced it from a viscous dog as a child or by a dark street that you found yourself walking alone on; it wasn't a new feeling. Fear was an emotion that went dormant, just waiting for the next moment to strike.
But fear was always fear. It didn't matter what level it came at you, it was already built into your mind and body.
“Ivy, I don't want you to think that I'm trying to downplay what you went through, I just want you to think about the feeling as a whole. What did you do with it when it hit you? There's only two options that someone can pick from when it comes for you.”
Fight or flight.
I hadn't ever placed myself on either side of that notion. But having to really think about it cemented in me who I was.
I was the fighter.
Everything I had done just to get here was built off fighting. I never ran from my fear, I never cowered because of my fear. I stood up to it, I embraced it, I survived it.
“Why are you telling me this? What happened, what was in the box?”
Shaking his head, Dante said, “He told me to set the box down.” Pointing to the kitchen, he bounced his chin. “Right there, right on that counter. So I did as I was told, just like he taught me to. I didn't ask questions, I just followed orders. Then he says, 'I want you to open the box, Dante, open the box, but don't let it out.' So I peeled each flap open, really slow at first. I didn't know what the hell he was trying to do. My chest was thudding, sweat had started to streak my forehead. I was afraid of what was in there, afraid of what he was asking me to do.”
“What was in it?” The curiosity was killing me. I had to know what was in that box and what his father wanted.
Do I really want to know?
There was bad, there was evil, then there was the unexplainable. Bane struck me as the type of guy who would do things to people for fun, no matter how sick and fucked up it might be.
“Sitting on the bottom of the box was this small rabbit. This small brown bunny, all curled up in the corner, his whole body was shaking, his chest bouncing a mile a minute.” Pausing, he closed his eyes, slowly peeling them back open. “And then my dad says, 'Now I want you to kill it, Dante.' Pulling a knife from his back pocket, he held it out to me. My father wanted me to kill the fucking thing, right there.” Holding an imaginary knife, Dante caressed the sharp figment of a blade.
My heart was racing, beating against my ribs, pounding and jumping so hard it hurt. I couldn't imagine someone asking me to do something like that, never mind my father being the one to want it.
“Did you?” The words squeaked out as I swallowed hard.
Thinning his lips, Dante's eyes stayed glued to the counter. “No.” Scratching at his forehead, he shook his head. “I couldn't, I couldn't do it.” Blinking heavy, he scrubbed his hair with the tips of his fingers. “I ran, I took the box and bolted out the door like a fucking puss
y. But I swore after that, I'd never let my father down again, that I'd do whatever it took to prove to him that I wasn't a failure. And I would never let fear taint me because fear made you weak. I didn't want to be weak, Ivy.”
“Dante, that doesn't make you weak, it makes you alive, it means you actually feel. That was something your dad didn't have, he didn't have feelings. You're nothing like your father, I've known that from the first time I met you.”
“That's where you're wrong, I'm exactly like him. I couldn't do what he asked me to that time, but by the time I was twenty, I'd done enough to make up for it.”
“I don't understand why you're telling me this. If you're trying to make me think you're a bad person, it won't work. You did something good, you saved me.”
“Did I really save you?” Gripping his waist, Dante's back snapped square. “Do you really think that this is saving you? Look at us, Ivy!” Throwing his arms out, he lunged forward. “Looks at us! Where still sitting in the same cage we started in, I didn't do shit! The only thing I did was get my father killed! I failed him, I ran again, and this time it cost him his life.”
“Is that really what you think?” My mouth dropped open, eyes lowering. “Do you really think that this is your fault? It's not! This has nothing to do with you, can't you see that?”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Of course it does, I stole you and it got my father killed.”
“No, you saved me, and your father got killed because Remo will do anything to get what he wants.”
I couldn't believe how hard he was being on himself. He did something right for once, he thought for himself and took charge. I didn't take that lightly.
If it wasn't for him standing up for what he wanted, I would be dead.
“I have to fix this, I need to make things right, Ivy, for you. I'm tired of running, I won't do it anymore. This is my city, I own it. And I won't stop till I get it all back.”
“We'll make things right, you're not in this alone, Dante. Stop thinking you need to do this all by yourself. I'm here, I'm on your side.”
“I can't risk losing you, I promised to keep you safe. I'm going to take care of this, but you need to stay out of sight.”
“What? No! I want him gone too, you can't stop me from helping you.”
“I can.” Pacing in a small circle, Dante threw his finger out. “You're staying here till this is all over. I'm going to go to the yard tomorrow and either he's going to listen, or he's going to die.”
“What are you going to do? Go in there with guns blazing? He has his guys, he has men he pays to keep him safe. After all of this, do you really think you'll just be able to storm through those doors and not get your head blown off?”
I didn't know what the hell he was thinking. He couldn't do this alone. Remo took precautions, he always took precautions.
If Dante thought for a second that he could waltz right into Remo's without being killed, he was fucking stupid.
That would never happen.
“Don't worry about me, Ivy. I know what I'm doing.”
Slamming my hands to my hips, I cocked my head up. “It sure as hell doesn't sound like you do. That's a death sentence, Dante, you're going to get yourself killed.”
“I might, but not before I kill him.”
Breaching the gap between us, I clutched his face. “Just so you know, as much as you want to save me, I want to save you too. None of this will matter if you're dead, all of it will be in vain if you don't come back to me.”
His eyes softened, a small smile tugged on the corner of his lips. “Do you remember when you asked me where I thought I'd go after I die?”
Holding his eyes on mine, I nodded. Brushing my thumb over his bottom lip, Dante dipped his head into his chest, kissing the back of my hand.
“There's nothing I could ever do to clear my name, nothing in the world is good enough to open those gates to a man like me. But maybe. . .” Holding his breath, he kissed my forehead. “Maybe saving you is all I need to die happy.”
Six
Dante
Ivy.
I could say her name over and over inside my head and it still wasn't enough. I loved her. Every inch of my soul had been consumed by her.
There was nothing left for me to give, nothing left that I could offer her.
Except complete and total freedom from the tyrant who haunted her dreams at night.
Laying back on the bed, I watched her pick through the small bag of clothing we had.
“What are you looking for?”
“My book, have you seen it?”
“Check the—”
“Got it, it was in the side pocket.” Holding it up, Ivy twisted it back and forth.
“That's what I was about to say.”
Plopping down beside me, she laughed. “Sure you were.” Winking, she leaned in and kissed my cheek.
And I felt that kiss.
It stayed on my skin, turning my insides into hot soup. Never in my life could I have imagined myself loving someone like I loved her.
I wanted to end every night with her beside me, wake every morning to her warm body, and live the life that we carved out for ourselves.
In my mind I pictured us sharing what the world had to offer, and knowing we only needed each other to be happy.
Rolling to my side, I rested my hand under my head and stared up at her. “Can I ask you something?”
Flicking her eyes from the book down onto me, she smiled. “Ask away.”
“When this is all over, when the world is ours and we don't have to run anymore, would you marry me?”
“What?” she asked, lowering her book onto her lap. “Come on, stop playing around.”
“It's a serious question. Would you marry me when this all over?”
“Dante, I'm flattered, really. But I don't think right now is the best time to ask me that.”
“Ivy, I'm not holding a ring, I'm not down on one knee, I just want to know if you would.”
“You're serious?”
“Yes, very.”
“I would, but. . .”
“But, what?”
“Dante,” she said, reaching for my hand. “I'm afraid to say yes.”
You're not afraid.
That's nerves.
Ivy knew what it really meant to be afraid. What she was feeling wasn't that. This was something else, something that transforms into similar feelings, but doesn't hold that deep- seeded nature to make you shake and squirm, to make you whither up and wish that tomorrow would still come.
This was love hidden in the grip of not knowing what was coming next.
“No you're not, you love me, that's what you're feeling. You want to say yes but you don't know what tomorrow will bring.” Lifting the book off her lap, I threw it to the floor. Crawling up her stomach, I tickled her neck with my fingers. “You say you're afraid, but that's only because you don't want to allow yourself to be hurt if I die.”
“How could you know that? You're not in my head, you don't know what I'm thinking or feeling.” Angling her chin, she eyed me curiously.
“Your eyes say everything, Ivy. You don't need to say it for me to know it.”
“What if you're right then? What if I'm just scared you'll die?”
“I'm not going to die.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I thought about what you said, and you're right. I can't just walk into a lion's den, I need to be smart about it.”
“Wow, you actually listened.”
“I can listen sometimes, but I'm still an asshole, that won't change.”
“Noted,” Ivy giggled, snuggling her head into the pillow.
“The vacant lot off seventy-eight.”
“What?” she asked, brows raising high. “What are you talking about?”
“Earlier tonight, that's where I was.”
Her eyes slit tight, lips curving into the cutest frown. “Why?”
“That's where I let that rabbit go years ag
o. Every so often since I was young, I'd go out into the field over there to see if I could find him. I know it sounds stupid, but letting it go reminded me of my mother. I always thought that if she had been around, my father wouldn't have done that, she wouldn't have allowed it. When I let him go, it made me feel like my mom was with me, like I had given her something to be proud of.”
“That's not stupid, Dante. Your mom was gone and you weren't exactly given the chance to find yourself. You were forced into a life that was laid out for you and there was nothing you could do about it.”
Dipping my brows, I played with the ends of her hair. “My life was a game to him, just like that day with the rabbit. He wanted to feel his power.”
“Did you ever see that rabbit again?”
Shrugging, I ran my fingers through her hair as I looked down at her. “I don't know for sure it was him, but I'd like to think it was. That animal was the only other thing I ever gave back life. . . Besides you.”
Slipping her fingers over my scalp, Ivy clasped her hands around my neck. “Do all your friends know you're a softy?”
Smirking, I pointed at her face. “Let's keep that between us.”
“Oo,” she moaned, her lips rounding and forming a perfect O. “And if I don't?”
“Well, I'll have to punish you.”
“If that's supposed to be a threat, it's not working.”
“So you're telling me I need to be more physical then.” Grabbing her hip, I flipped her to her belly and slapped her ass.
Ivy let out a high-pitched gasp, her hands splayed out in front of her, digging into the sheets. Arching her back, she pressed her chest into the mattress, and lifted her ass higher.
“That's what you needed, a little rough play to show you I'm serious.”
“I'm still not convinced.” Jiggling her ass in my face, she stretched her arms out further, wrapping her fingers around the headboard. “I think I need more.”
A deep growl spilled from my lips, my cock firming. “I'll give you more.” Curling my fingertips into the seam of her panties, I peeled them down her thighs.