GIO
My response carried a weight of conviction, an acknowledgment of the path I had chosen. The Famiglia’s need was paramount; strength was the currency of survival in our world. The call for ruthless authority was an implicit plea for acceptance, a declaration that my role was not one of appeasement, but of commanding force. It was a role I embraced without hesitation, for it was a role I knew I was born to play.
Sebastian’s nod held a weight of understanding as he reached out, his hand finding its place on my shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. His eyes bore a mixture of hope and caution, a complex emotion that mirrored the uncertainty of our situation. “I hope you are right,” he spoke with a tinge of gravity, his voice low yet resolute, “because if not, things are bound to take a turn for the bloody.”
I didn’t avert my gaze; instead, I locked onto his, each of us silently acknowledging the shared determination that fueled our next words. The air seemed charged with the intensity of our pact, the unspoken promise that echoed between us. “I refuse to bend to anyone’s whims again,” I affirmed, my voice carrying a newfound steel, “I will carve a path in the East, reigning supreme, or I’ll embrace a fiery end while battling every step of the way.”
A wry smile tugged at Sebastian’s lips, revealing a glimpse of his devil-may-care attitude even in the face of impending turmoil. His words, though laced with a shade of grim reality, held a hint of audaciousness. “Oh, I know,” he quipped, his tone a mixture of casualness and a deeper truth, “if our grand designs falter, then knives will clash and bullets will sing. It’s a dance of survival where the finale might see us both on the ground, staring fate in the eye.” A pause, a flicker of something more vulnerable in his eyes, before he continued, “And as much as I hate to admit it, there’s a certain craving to taste Harper before the lights dim for us.”
I couldn’t help but shake my head, a wry smile playing on my lips, a blend of camaraderie and shared mischief passing between us. “Perhaps,” I retorted, a thread of dry humor in my words, “by getting us killed, I’ll spare you that particular distraction.”
His smirk persisted, a testament to his affinity for danger and the thrill it brought to his life. His reply was almost a confession, a window into his essence that needed no elaboration. “Trouble, my friend,” he declared, as if stating a well-known fact that defined his very being, “is a taste I’ve acquired a liking for.” The subtext was clear: embracing trouble was our way of living.
Millie’s image flickered in my mind, a reminder of the stakes that extended beyond us, beyond our shared defiance. Sebastian’s question lingered in the air, demanding an answer that accounted for her safety amidst the impending chaos. I hesitated, contemplating the words that would bridge the truth and the shield I wished to provide her. The world we navigated was treacherous, and a wrong step could cost dearly. “No,” I finally responded, a hint of protectiveness woven into the syllables, “she deserves peace of mind. Let her be free of unnecessary worries while we confront the storm.”
The die was cast, our choices made. Sebastian’s understanding gaze met mine, a silent agreement that spoke of the unspoken bonds that tied our fates together. In a world rife with uncertainty, one thing was clear: our resolve to face whatever came next, whether in the shadow of triumph or the embrace of inevitable doom.
MILLIE
Something felt amiss from the moment Gio stepped through our front door last night. The air seemed to carry an unusual tension, and as morning dawned, my suspicions solidified as I observed him methodically strapping on his gun and knife holsters. The glint of blades caught the light two sheathed at his chest, two nestled against his back, even more at his calves. It was an arsenal that went beyond precaution; it reeked of a looming confrontation.
Turning to me, Gio’s eyes bore a seriousness that matched the weight in the room. He motioned for me to prepare as well, his words shrouded in mystery. There was an unspoken turmoil hanging between us, an unshared truth that knotted my stomach. Whatever had transpired among his underbosses the previous day had prompted this sudden call for an assembly of the entire Famiglia.
“Gio, I can’t shake this unease,” I murmured softly, my fingers trailing through my hair as the brush found its place back on the vanity.
He took my hand with a firmness that betrayed his resolve. Drawing me close against his chest, he attempted to quell my worries. “There’s no need for concern. This is me just being overly cautious. You’ll spend the morning with Dario. He’ll watch over you.”
“It’s you I’m worried about, not myself,” I admitted, a frown etching my brow.
His countenance softened briefly, a fleeting vulnerability, before a faint smirk tugged at his lips. “I’m not easily taken down.”
I recoiled slightly. “Someone’s planning to harm you today?”
Gio’s lips met mine in a kiss, an embrace that felt both desperate and reassuring. His hold on me tightened almost painfully before he gently withdrew. Leading me downstairs, he guided me to where Dario awaited, his own anxiety thinly veiled. It was clear he had been trying to mask his emotions, but his concern was as evident as mine.
“Gio,” I whispered, my voice barely reaching his ears. “What’s happening? Wasn’t this supposed to be a routine Famiglia meeting?”
A wordless exchange passed between Gio and Dario, a moment of silent understanding before Dario made his way to the entrance door.
Cupping my face, Gio positioned himself so that Dario couldn’t easily discern our conversation. I sought solace in his gaze, but he shielded me from his thoughts. Fear gripped my chest, and my eyes welled with tears. Perhaps Gio aimed to spare me the brutal realities of our underworld existence, but I was the daughter of the Outfit’s Consigliere. The mafia flowed in my veins. I was intimately familiar with its codes, its players. The ascension of a new Capo signaled a shift in power dynamics.
Desperation tinged my voice. “Gio, please tell me.”
His response was a growl, an almost primal sound. “No. No tears.”
Blinking away my emotions, I inhaled deeply. “You’ll come back to me.” The words quivered like a plea.
A dark, resolute fire ignited in Gio’s eyes. “Always. Even if I have to bring down an army to do it.”
The sheer conviction sent shivers down my spine. I believed him. Another searing kiss passed between us, but when he tried to step away, I clung to him, unwilling to let go.
“Millie,” he murmured, his voice a blend of tenderness and urgency. But my grip remained steadfast. Gio signaled to Dario, and with a reluctant glance at me, he gently pried me from Gio’s embrace. One last look, and then Gio was striding out of the apartment, the elevator doors sealing off his form.
“Come, Millie,” Dario’s voice held a gentle note, releasing me from my trance. “We should move as well.”
“Is he in danger? Is this about him being a young Capo?”
Dario shook his head, regret flickering in his eyes. “Gio wants to shield you from the details. Please, don’t ask me for answers I can’t provide.”