A Madness of Crows: Mafia University #3

14. Day 42 – Stefano

The car is silent.

My uncle is seething with rage, his jaw locked as he sits, watching me. “You are my biggest fucking disappointment, nipote.”

A badge I’ll wear with honor. I incline my head, not saying anything, and he sighs.

Caterina stirs beside him. Without blinking, he pushes her off the seat with hard hands and onto the floor, her head banging against the carpet.

I bite back the anger on my tongue.

It’s already bad enough.

Seething, I watch the awareness trickle in. She blinks several times, before turning her head to the side and retching.

And I’m forced to watch as understanding slowly dawns on her face. She closes her eyes, the engine rumbling beneath her cheek. “The meeting… it”s finished.”

“Yes.” Salvatore surveys her, his face expressionless. “You missed quite a show, wife.”

His eyes flicker between us now. And there’s suspicion there, suspicion that makes me turn away and stare out of the window as if I don’t care that she’s lying there at our feet, cold and shaking in devastation.

I don’t want to watch as her heart breaks.

We stay silent for the rest of the journey, and I ignore Caterina.

I ignore the hitches in her breathing, the single muffled sob that she tries so fucking hard to stifle.

Ignore the twisting in my chest.

When we pull up, Salvatore gets out without waiting, his tone short. “Take her to bed and meet me downstairs.”

Her face is wet when I pick her up. She offers no resistance as I carry her inside. No pithy comments as I set her down in the bathroom, waiting until her legs steady before I let go. “Take your time.”

She doesn’t respond.

It takes several long minutes before she walks out, her face pale as she takes the bottle of water from my hand. “Drink it all.”

Her throat flexes as she downs it. “I feel like shit.”

“You’ll probably be sore tomorrow. Some aches and pains. Do you remember anything?”

Slowly, she shakes her head. Her voice cracks. “Nothing.”

I keep my thoughts to myself as we follow the now familiar routine. She stares at the ceiling as I put the restraints on. “He doesn’t stop, does he? He doesn’t get bored of his toys.”

Slowly, I attach her wrist to the final restraint. “No. He just finds new ways to play with them.”

She laughs, and it sounds so wrong, so broken, that makes my chest ache. “So I’m discovering.”

When I sit down on the edge of the bed, she turns her head to me. Deep brown eyes, dark with exhaustion and sorrow, fix on me. “What happened to your face?”

I shrug, dismissing the sting. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Sitting there for a moment, I gather my thoughts. Bundle them together in a perfect screenshot in my head and clear my throat.

I have nothing to offer her, no comfort, but this. This, I can give her.

“When this is over, I’m taking you to a beach, Caterina.”

Her brows crease, confusion on her face.

“Nothing but… blue skies, sand, and the sea.”

Her eyes flicker. “What—,”

“That’s what Domenico Rossi said to you. 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.”

I heard it, even as I tried not to, to give them that privacy. And because I heard it, I remembered it.

“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.”

Her face crumples.

“I miss you. I need you, Caterina Corvo. I’m breaking apart without you.”

Her tears are silent. They drip down her face.

“Luciano Morelli is alive. Gio got to him in time.”

It was worth the cost, for the expression that crosses her face.

“You have people who love you,” I say quietly. Holding her eyes. “Do not give up, Cat.”

The restraints rattle as she squeezes her eyes closed, a sob sounding in her throat. “Stefan—,”

I tell her everything. Every little detail that I can remember. Everything I saw.

Or… most of it.

And then I sit quietly, the minutes ticking away from me, as she lets those tears go, and she sobs.

My uncle can wait.

When I eventually get up, she stares up at me. “You have a perfect memory?”

Unfortunately.

I shrug. “There’s no formal diagnosis, but it’s called hyperthymesia.”

The ability to recall past events in excruciating levels of detail. Something I would gladly give up, if I could. “Try and get some sleep. I can’t stand outside tonight, but Salvatore has other plans. He won’t bother you.”

Her eyes slide closed. “Stefan… thank you.”

Stefan.

“Don’t thank me,” I say roughly. “Not for any of it.”

But I hold that expression on her face close, as I walk toward the dungeon with my hands buried in my pockets.

Turn the sound of my name on her lips over and over in my mind.

And I keep it there for the hours that follow.