GIO
I inched my way stealthily toward the bed, my heart pounding in my chest like the beat of a distant war drum. From my vantage point, I caught a glimpse of Tonio’s knees peeking through the narrow gap beneath the bed frame. My fingers tightened around the grip of my weapon as I aimed with unwavering focus, targeting the vulnerable right kneecap. The gunshot shattered the tense silence, and the sound of Tonio’s agonized scream echoed through the room, a symphony of retribution that sent shivers down my spine.
Propelling myself off the ground, I covered the distance in just two powerful strides, finding myself at my uncle’s side. My hand coiled around his throat, fingers digging into the flesh as I hoisted him upward until our eyes were locked in a deadly confrontation.
Grimacing, the words tumbled from my lips, laden with vindictive satisfaction, “Say goodbye to the prospect of a swift demise, Uncle.”
Hours later, the mansion stood behind us, its walls harboring the aftermath that would be handled by Dario and his cleanup crew. As Sebastian and I made our way toward his sleek Porsche Cayenne, a disorderly mop of brown hair emerged from the backseat, catching us off guard.
“Damn it,” Sebastian muttered under his breath, frustration etched on his features. “I completely forgot about Rachel.”
Running a hand through my hair, I let out a sigh of exasperation. “How old is she?”
Sebastian’s response carried a hint of uncertainty, his brow furrowing in thought. “Honestly, I’m not sure. We have too many cousins. Twelve, maybe?”
Resigning myself to the situation, I opened the back door and leaned in. Rachel’s reaction was instinctive, a flinch followed by her curling into a protective ball, her legs pulled close to her chest. Despite the weight of recent events, I endeavored to maintain a semblance of composure as I addressed her, my tone tinged with a fragile civility, given the circumstances.
Seeking to bridge the chasm between us, I inquired gently, “Could you tell me how old you are?”
Her gaze held a mixture of fear and wariness, as if she anticipated danger from every corner of her world, myself included. Scrutinizing her face closely, I attempted to recall the details. “Are you around twelve years old?”
She swallowed hard, her apprehension palpable.
Having gathered the information I needed, I carefully closed the door, leaving Sebastian to lock it before I slipped into the passenger seat. The question lingered in the air, and I couldn’t escape the weight of responsibility that came with it. While she was our cousin, my options for her safety seemed limited. Too young for marriage and too vulnerable for the dangerous world we inhabited, the question remained: who among the tumultuous bonds of family could be trusted?
Aunt Giada and her husband Peter, residing in Baltimore, appeared to be the most reliable choice. In the absence of clear alternatives, I voiced my decision to Sebastian. “Giada. For the time being, Rachel will stay with Melanie and her husband.”
Unfurling like a delicate bud, her voice trembled with uncertainty, “What’s going to happen to me?”
Despite the darkness of my recent actions, a surge of determination washed over me. “You will be safe.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes at my statement, his disbelief evident. “No one will harm you, Rachel. Neither Gio nor I.”
Relief accompanied the moment we left Rachel in Melanie’s care, her husband’s loyalty a fortification against the dangers that lurked beyond their doorstep. Our journey then led us to the preordained meeting point, the Yonker power plant, where Leonardo and Massimo awaited. Eli, Amadeo’s legitimate son, was bound and restrained, a prisoner of his own sins.
His glare met mine with searing intensity, his contempt manifested in a defiant spittle aimed at Leonardo’s feet. “You bring disgrace to our legacy. Bastard. My father should never have accepted you into our fold.”
“Welcomed?” Leonardo’s voice dripped with venom.
In a measured tone, I issued a warning, my grip tightening around my knife’s hilt. “He’s mine.” My blade gleamed menacingly as I drew it forth. “Let’s unveil the secrets you harbor, Eli.”
After this night, the Famiglia would be purged of traitors, poised to confront the impending war with the Outfit. With every fiber of my being, I embraced this path, one unburdened by the fetters of sentiment. Regardless of the toll it might exact and the time it might demand, I was resolute in my determination to dismantle Mathias Ruberti’s empire, even if it meant embracing the darkness until my very last breath.
MILLIE
In the aftermath of Gio’s departure, a torrent of emotional desolation swept over me, leaving me adrift in a mansion that once felt like home. The weight of heartbreak clung to me, manifesting in my diminished appetite and an almost visceral aversion to most foods. My sisters and Dario, perceptive to my suffering, hovered nearby, their concern palpable as they observed my feeble attempts at nourishment. Yet, it wasn’t solely the gnawing hunger that tormented me it was Gio’s absence that cut deepest. Having been a constant presence in my life, his sudden withdrawal left a cavernous void that seemed to widen with each passing moment.
Days melded into a haze of longing, with the ache of his absence gnawing at me incessantly. In this disorienting span, I found myself roused from restless slumber before dawn’s first light. The chill in the air penetrated even the two layers of blankets cocooning me, compelling me to slip into my bathrobe over my nightgown. Driven by an inexplicable impulse, I descended the stairs and ventured out onto the terrace, where the world was draped in the serene embrace of early morning.
As I shivered, a silhouette emerged from the shadows below Dario. His figure was caught in the rhythm of exertion, engaging in his customary morning routine of sprints and burpees. While my sisters still slept, oblivious to the world, I watched him in the solitude of the dawn, a sense of shared solace washing over me. Eventually, his perspiration-glistening form turned in my direction, and he abandoned his exercises to approach me with a concerned expression etched upon his face.
“Millie, what’s wrong?” he inquired, his voice laced with genuine worry.
A fractured chuckle escaped my lips, and I met his gaze, finding a confidant in the midst of my turmoil. “He’ll come around,” Dario assured me, his voice a steady anchor. “He knows you’re innocent. Sebastian tracked down the photographer, and the truth has been confirmed.”
The knowledge that someone had fought on my behalf, unraveling a web of deceit to vindicate me, was not lost on me. Yet, amid this vindication, a hollow emptiness lingered a void that even exoneration couldn’t wholly fill. I struggled to comprehend the depth of the emotional chasm that had been carved by Gio’s departure, a departure that extended beyond the confines of nights and spilled into the very essence of my days.
“When?” I ventured, my voice betraying a vulnerability I hadn’t intended.
“Yesterday,” Dario responded, a note of empathy in his voice. But his words, while intended to offer solace, couldn’t remedy the absence of Gio’s presence, nor the silence that stretched between us.
His lack of communication since my heart’s undoing hung heavy in the air, a silence that seemed to echo with unspoken questions and unanswered fears. Did he still believe my fidelity had wavered? Did he no longer love me? The unanswered queries multiplied, intertwining with the tendrils of uncertainty that tightened around me.
My fingers found their way to my stomach, a subconscious touch that spoke volumes of the revelation that had unfolded in the midst of this tumultuous time. The weight of the unshared secret bore down upon me, its significance inextricable from the turmoil that had befallen my life.
“He needs time to heal,” Dario offered, a glimmer of understanding flickering in his eyes. “Your trip to Chicago, done without his knowledge, left wounds. He’s grappling with his own family’s trials at the moment.”
With a sigh, I clung to the fragile threads of hope, allowing Dario’s words to envelop me. The prospect of a second chance with Gio felt like an elusive dream, an aspiration I dared not relinquish. “There’s something I must ask of you,” I finally revealed, aware of the weight of my request.