A Madness of Crows: Mafia University #3

18. Day 43 – Stefano

Shouting wakes me.

Unfurling my body from the cold floor, I haul myself into a sitting position. The guards are fighting with someone down the hall.

Gingerly, I prod at my body, assessing the damage. Mainly superficial, but—

I hiss as I prod my side. Broken rib.

Salvatore wasn’t fucking around this time. I’ve rarely seen him so furious, and I rub my hands over my swollen face as I consider what other implications there will be for my disobedience.

For standing in his way last night. Blocking the door to give them another minute.

Another sixty seconds at most. Barely even worth it.

You fucking fool.

There’s a bottle of water in the corner, and I pick it up, my mouth dry. Across from me, a waif of a girl watches through curtained red hair. Her lips are cracked.

Assessing the position of the guards, I glance at her again. She shrinks back as the bottle of water rolls towards her, my hand stretching through the bars as I gesture at her silently to pick it up.

Must be new.

Most of them are used to seeing me down here.

Her hand shoots through, grabbing the bottle and hugging it to her chest as the guards move closer to us. She turns her back to me, facing the wall.

With a sigh, I stretch my legs as much as I can in the cramped space to wait. I won’t be escorting Cat to training today, and my mouth tightens at the thought of her waking to Cecile.

Hours pass, and my eyes are closed when the bars rattle. I open one swollen one to glance at Salvatore, expecting another lecture. Possibly another beating.

He does neither. Instead, he whistles as he unlocks the door. “You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood, nipote.”

Biting back a groan as I climb out, shaking out my aching limbs and holding a hand to my ribs, I don’t respond.

“Aren’t you going to ask why?”

“Why?” My voice is emotionless as I turn to head back upstairs. I have a visit to make and then I’ll go to Cat, check in on her after last night.

His voice is silky. “I’ve had such a wonderful morning with my wife, of course.”

I stop on the steps.

He grips my shoulder, his words a low hiss in my ear as I stand there, the thoughts ripped from my head and replaced with hollow emptiness. “How convenient, that I now have two sticks to beat you with. Be careful, Stefano. You entertain me, but I’m growing tired of your little rebellions. You will be at dinner tomorrow night. Dress up.”

I take off as soon as his fingers release me.

My heart in my throat, I pound up those stairs, ignoring the pain in my side as I head to her room at a flat run.

“Caterina.” I roar her name as I burst in. “Cat!”

The room is empty, the bed neatly made. Nothing looks out of place, nothing to suggest—

The bathroom door bangs against the wall as I storm in, my eyes locking on the space where the mirror used to be.

“They cleaned it up.”

At the quiet words, I spin. Cat is sitting in the empty bathtub, still dressed, her arms wrapped around her knees. Her hands are dotted with scratches, little dark red lines of drying blood.

She doesn’t look my way when I drop down beside her. “Where were you?”

The whispered question shreds at the heart I thought I’d lost years ago. “I… I was—,”

She glances my way, then. Her eyes sharpen, focus on my face. The darkening, raised eyes, the deep cut in my lip, my swollen cheekbone. “Was that him?”

“Doesn’t matter.” I raise my hand, only to drop it again, digging into the porcelain tub. “What did he do to you?”

She traces a symbol into her kneecap. “Reed.”

Horror swamps me. I know Reed well enough, know his methods, his cruelty.

“A health check,” she continues as I stare at her. “To make sure I’m ready for breeding.”

Her words are steady, bitterness rippling through every word. “I suppose it was always going to happen at some point, right?”

“Not to you.”

At my instant refusal, she lifts a shoulder, lets it fall. “Why not? It happens to everyone else under this roof.”

It’s a struggle to breathe, as I look at her.

Not to you.

My throat closes up in realization. “I have to leave for a couple of hours.”

She loosens a breath. “Of course you do.”

The sad words hit like a punch to my solar plexus. “It’s not like that.”

Not you.

She only nods. “I’m having dinner with Salvatore tomorrow night.”

Carefully, I cup her cheek, drawing her around to face me. Her eyes shimmer. “I will be back,” I swear. “I’m not leaving, Cat. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

She doesn’t pull away, only watches me with sad eyes. “Are you badly hurt?”

Am I hurt?

My eyes close. “No. Nothing I haven’t had before.”

And nothing like the pain in my chest as I leave her curled up in that bathroom and go for my keys.

***

The campus is eerily silent. I stop at my apartment first, shoving the things I want to keep into a holdall, living up to the excuse I had to come here in the first place. The place is nearly bare. Bare walls, bare sides.

Nothing to indicate that someone actually lives here.

Only a handful of Asante students are still around. They ignore me, their brief looks just as dismissive as the men back at the house.

Where Salvatore leads, they follow.

And then I begin to search.

The dining hall is empty. I’m turned away at the Fusco house, shrugged shoulders and tightened lips the only response when I ask for him.

Dante V’Arezzo is in Vegas, I’m told.

Nobody seems to quite know where Luciano Morelli is.

I jog up the steps to Cat’s apartment as my muscles scream for relief, my body threatening to give up entirely thanks to last night’s punishment. I’m expecting it to be empty, abandoned, but a silhouette moves past the window as I wait.

Gio Fusco opens the door with his gun in his hand and a grim look. “I’ve been messaging you every fucking day, Asante.”

“You have to get her out.”

It takes a second for the words to register before he pales, stepping forward as he gets a closer look at my face. “What the fuck happened.”

“Now,” I rasp. “Tonight. I’ll distract the guards. If it’s only you, there’s a side door on the far side of the estate that I can leave unlocked. It’s overgrown on the other side, but if you clear it—,”

He’s in my face, gripping my arms. “Why now? What happened?”

“I—.”

I shake my head. Gio steps back and I push past him. “Will you come?”

“Not even a fucking question,” he snaps. “Is she hurt?”

I stare around me. This is her space. Little pieces of Caterina are scattered around this apartment, pieces that Gio is careful not to touch as he moves to the table and starts pulling out his weapons, laying them out. Checking them. “Asante.”

I focus on him. “Not… physically. Not any more than what you saw. But you’ll come for her.”

His hands still, and he turns, slow and assessing.

I grunt as he lunges for me, his hand wrapping around my neck. The wall shakes as he shoves me into it, my head banging against the plaster. “Why now? Why now, when you could have done this weeks ago?”

He roars those words at me, the accusation landing like bullets against my skin. “She’s not physically hurt? I saw her. Saw what you and your fucking family have done to her. You’ve done nothing but fucking hurt her.”

The guilt. The guilt, and the fear—

“We all have people we love,” I rasp. I don’t fight the grip on my throat. “People that they use against us, Fusco. I am no different to any of you.”

And this… this could cost me the only thing I care about.

Except that’s not quite true anymore. Now, someone else has found their way in, digging beneath my defenses. Knocking them down like a house of cards.

Not her.

The lines I drew years ago to protect the only thing that mattered to me have shifted. Refocused.

I will not allow them to break her too.

“You care about her.”

My head whips to his as he releases me, staring. I don’t answer him, and he pushes. “Don’t you?”

“She doesn’t deserve this.” Doesn’t deserve to be broken down, piece by piece, until there is nothing left of her. Until that light goes out.

“Tonight, then.” Gio is still watching me, but there’s a tremble in his fingers. “Where?”

As I’m leaving, he stops me.

“Caterina Corvo has a habit of collecting hearts, wherever she goes.”

There’s a question there. A question I cannot answer.

I don’t look back at him. “My heart is not hers to take.”

I wonder if he can hear the lie in my words.