A Madness of Crows: Mafia University #3

13. Day 42 – Domenico

Matteo lounges back in his chair, spreading his arms wide as a taunting grin spreads across his face. “Well, isn’t this lovely.”

I jerk my head in the semblance of a nod when he glances at me slyly. The room around us is empty, waiting for the newest iteration of the Cosa Nostra to walk through the doors.

Matteo picks up his glass, swirling the amber liquid inside as he sighs.

“Come now, Rossi. Crack a smile, at least. You might even see my lovely cugina tonight, if you’re lucky. I hear married life is agreeing with her.”

My muscles lock. A twitch feathers in my jaw.

Caterina.

“Just remember,” he continues speaking, his voice low and cruel. Victorious. “Any bruises you see are not our doing.”

Not their doing.

Mine.

My punishment, on her skin.

Become Matteo’s guard dog, carry out the violence he demands of me, or Caterina would pay the price.

Twice, I refused.

Twice was all it took for me to learn that they meant it. The photos were proof enough.

I glance down, as if I might see the blood beneath my nails that I scraped away before we left. The blood of innocent people, their only crime to piss off the man sitting beside me.

I have lost my way, Cat.

And I hate myself for hoping – just for a moment – that she won’t be here. That she won’t be here to see how far I have fallen.

My heart aches. I’m sorry, Bea.

She would be so ashamed.

I can do nothing. I dedicated my life to protecting Caterina Corvo, to standing by her side, only to be turned into another fucking tool to hurt her with. My hands are tied, bound to the man who did this to us, to her. And my vision whites as that familiar agony rips up my throat, closing my airways.

Useless. I am useless.

Luciano, on the other hand… my teeth grind together as he saunters through the door. He offers a mocking bow to Matteo, his enforcer at his shoulder as they move to a seat.

Not a flicker of his eyes to give away that it was the seat his father died in. Murdered, his throat slashed by the same man that he now exchanges a light-hearted joke with, his low laughter filling the room.

Luc doesn’t bother to look at me at all, tapping his fingers in a merry pattern against the table.

I stare at him. Trying to find any trace of the man I thought I knew.

Wondering if he was always this way, and we missed it.

Maybe he liked the idea of power. Of having Cat in his bed, the rest of us as allies, only to turn on us the moment the tables were turned.

I turn away when Gio strides in. A male I vaguely recognize – Johnno - is beside him. He doesn’t smile as he takes his chair, but Matteo only snorts, unfazed.

Gio glances at me, offering a brief nod. His eyes take in the bruising covering my exposed skin, bruising that never seems to fade before new ones appear. Evidence of the nights spent fighting in rings at Matteo’s command, facing off with man after man until the inevitable point that my body gives out.

All for his fucking entertainment.

Dante is a few minutes late. He mutters about a flight delay as he stalks to sit down, Rocco next to him. He doesn’t look at any of us aside from Morelli. Luc winks at him, and Dante’s hand clenches against the wood of the table.

And we wait.

Matteo doesn’t seem bothered as he whistles, flicking through photos on his phone. He holds out his screen to show me, and I grimace at the battered body.

“Excellent handiwork, Rossi.”

I glance at it again with a flicker of memory.

I did that.

I barely even remember it.

Finally, Salvatore Asante pushes the door open. “My apologies, Matteo. We had a slight issue in the car. All resolved now.”

Stefano is abnormally pale as he glances back over his shoulder, his brows dropping down into a deep frown.

Gio and Dante tense. Even Luc sits up, his head tilting as if to glance past the two men into the hall beyond.

Matteo snorts. “Fine, fine. You’ll find that I’m much more informal than my predecessor.”

He glances around. “I don’t believe we’ll need our seconds for this meeting, gentlemen. I’d rather keep it… more personal, if you don’t mind.”

My breathing stops. Three sets of eyes flash to me as I look at the door.

Murmured agreement. Across from me, Salvatore looks irritated, muttering to Stefano, who nods. He slips from the room first, but I’m close behind him, the others following more slowly.

My heart thunders inside my chest, my body waking as if it’s been sleeping for the last six weeks.

Stefano is already knelt beside a slumped shape at the end of the hall, and I break into a run.

Caterina—

I fall to my knees next to him, ignoring his stare. “Cat- fucking hell—,”

My voice shakes as I take her in. She’s so fucking thin, her bones sharp and tight beneath her pallid skin. And the bruises, my rebellion painted across her golden skin—

Her chest.

I shove Stefano’s hands out of the way, my fingers trembling badly as I trace the edges of the crest embedded into her skin over her ruined crow tattoo. Run them over the edges of the wings I crafted so carefully for her. Now jagged and broken beneath a fucking brand.

They scarred her. Took the tattoo that sang of who she is and branded themselves into her skin instead.

The buzzing inside my head grows as I gently lift her half-open eyelids, my voice breaking. “Cat? It’s Dom. Talk to me, baby.”

She mumbles a few words of garbled Italian, and my brows knit as I smooth her hair away from her pale face. Even her clothes are ridiculous, pink and flouncy and everything she isn’t.

As if they’re systematically stripping away every part of who she is.

Stefano reaches for her again, and my vision tinges crimson as my hand shoots out to grip his wrist. “Take your fucking hands off my capo.”

He swears. “Rossi—,”

Ripping the gun from my holster, I press it to his head as the roaring in my head grows stronger. “Give me a single fuckingreason not to.”

Movement behind me. Someone grabs at my arm, telling me not to be a fool, but Stefano only stares at me with black eyes as I shrug them off. “I can’t.”

I can’t breathe. “What has she taken?”

“Ket.” His skin is pale as he looks down, uncaring of the barrel to his temple. “He gave it to her in the car.”

Ketamine.

I mentally flick through what I know of it. I’ve seen plenty of it in action, seen the dazed looks, the aftermath. The fucking side effects.

And Salvatore Asante pumped that poison into her without giving a fuck. And Stefano… he stood by and watched it happen.

I pull the barrel of the gun back and whip that fucker straight across the face. A thin line of blood opens up immediately, his skin shredding beneath the metal edge.

He doesn’t make a sound.

“You’re a dead man,” I snarl. “When this is over, Asante.”

He doesn’t look up, ignoring the blood trickling down his face. “When this is over, I will already be dead.”

Ignoring him, I turn back to Cat, letting my gun clatter to the floor. She slurs more words as I cradle her shoulders, lifting her up. “How long?”

He spits a mouthful of blood to the floor. “Half an hour.”

I glance back toward the door as I slide my hands beneath her. Depending on the dosage, she could come out of it before they’re finished.

I sit back on the floor with Cat in my arms, daring Asante to say a fucking word as I cradle her. My eyes scan every part of her face, logging every mark.

Her name becomes an echo on my lips, my cheeks damp.

I stare at the main doors more than once.

I could run with her now.

Put a bullet in Asante’s head and take her where the politics of the Cosa Nostra would never find us.

But there is Alessia. And Cat would never forgive me for leaving the others behind to pay the price for our escape.

The threads of the family we built have become the chains that imprison us.

My breathing begins to shudder. Our time is running out.

I run my thumb across her cheek.

“When this is over,” I murmur the words, willing her to wake up, to look at me. “I’m taking you to a beach, Caterina. Nothing but blue skies and sand and the sea. We’re going to drink too much alcohol, and sleep in the sunshine, and I’m going to dance with you as the sun sets.”

It feels like an impossibility. A dream.

I stroke her hair back again. “I love you. And I need you to hold on, Cat. Because we’re coming for you, baby. It’s just taking a little longer than we hoped, but we’re not giving up.”

My voice breaks as I press my forehead to hers. “I miss you. I need you, Caterina Corvo. I’m breaking apart without you.”

A door opens.

“Cat.”

I raise my head. Dante stumbles, his face collapsing in devastation. “What have they done?”

Not a question. A statement, and it physically hurts to let her go as he falls to his knees, reaching for her with hands that shake just as badly as mine. His green eyes glitter, closing briefly before they open again. “Tentazione.”

Agony in his face.

I rip my eyes away. The meeting is over. We have seconds left with her, if that.

At the end of the hall, Stefano Asante meets my eyes as he shifts to let Gio and Luc pass him. He nods once before he steps back inside, closing the door behind him.

Seconds.

Gio gets to us first. He drops down beside Dante, his hands hovering over her as his face twists in horror. “Her chest—,”

But I’m watching Luciano Morelli.

Watching the expression that flickers over his face as he pauses. The longing. The agony, as he stares at her. The fury that tightens his eyes.

He walks straight past us, his mouth a thin line. Gio snaps his name, but Luc ignores him, throwing open the doors and stalking outside. His enforcer slips after him.

“What the fuck—,” Dante snarls, but I shake my head.

“He can’t, Dante,” I breathe the words in dawning realization.

I am a fool. But he was so fucking believable.

“He needs Matteo to believe he doesn’t care.”

Lie upon lie, a facade he has crafted so well that even I thought he had turned.

But there was nothing but stark, devastated honesty in his face when he looked at her just now.

Gio swallows, his eyes darting back to that closed door. “I think he’s looking for Alessia. Dante and I are working on the plan to break Caterina out, as soon as she’s safe. The Asante estate is a fucking fortress.”

Dante shakes his head, as if he doesn’t agree. But he doesn’t say anything.

My hands curl into fists. “What can I do?”

Nothing. Useless.

Gio strokes Cat’s face, murmuring to her. She stirs. “Keep Matteo distracted.”

He looks at me, his eyes dipping to those bruises. “Survive.”

“I want to be there.” Pressure builds up in my chest, weighing heavily. The need to do something, anything. “When you go in for her, Fusco. You tell me, and I’ll be there.”

He nods. “I swear it. I’ll get word to you, if I can.”

The three of us look at each other.

How much we have changed, all of us, in these last weeks.

Shouting comes from behind the closed doors. The other enforcers glance at each other, back to us, and move down the hall. Ready to intercept if they need to.

“Dante.” His hand lingers on her cheek, ignoring me. “It’s time.”

He only shakes his head, his throat bobbing. “Not yet. She’s going to wake up, Dom.”

But we will not be here when she does.

“There will be a punishment if they see us with her,” I push the words out through the agony gripping my throat. “And we are not the ones who will receive it.”

Gio’s face flickers with agonized understanding. He lifts her wrist, pressing a kiss to her pulse before he gently lays her arm back down. “Soon, Corvo.”

A vow. He doesn’t meet my eyes as he stands. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m ready for this to be done.” My voice is grim.

“We’re all ready, fratello.” He casts a glance toward the doors, his eyes shadowing. “As long as Morelli comes through.”

For the first time, it’s not anger that fills me when I think of him, but something closer to… respect. “He’s playing his role well. I didn’t even realize.”

Gio rubs a hand over his face. “I pray that’s all it is. For Alessia’s sake.”

With a final look at Cat, he clasps Dante’s shoulder and walks out, his enforcer following.

Dante has still not let her go; his body curved over hers as he murmurs the same words over and over again. Begging.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

But her eyes remain dazed, unaware, and I grab his shoulders. “Our time is up. We have to let her go, fratello. Now.”

We carefully lift her back onto the chair, and I press a final kiss to her forehead, studying her before I turn and walk away. I lean against the wall opposite, wiping away the emotion on my face.

Dante lingers a moment longer before he turns on his heel and strides out.

The main door has barely closed behind him before the meeting doors burst open. Matteo looks livid as he storms up to me, barely sparing a glance for Caterina. “Where are they?”

“The capos? Gone.” I lift a shoulder. “I assumed the meeting was over.”

When I glance behind him, Salvatore Asante has his finger in Stefano’s face. “What happened?”

Matteo’s expression smooths out, joviality barely covering the simmering anger still lingering in his eyes. “Nothing to concern yourself with. Let’s go.”

His gaze shifts, flitting between Caterina and my face. Assessing. And the anger dissipates, replaced by humor as he claps his hand on my shoulder. “Well. Looks like the lessons worked well, Rossi. Let’s go. I want to stop at the pits.”

Where I can work out my fury in the ring.

I give myself one more second to linger, not responding to his jibe.

One last, final glance, before I turn my back and walk away.

Shoving those dreams down, far away from where Matteo can break them out of me and rip them apart.

Soon, I promise her silently. Just hold on, Cat.

Hold on.