A Madness of Crows: Mafia University #3

19. Day 43 – Caterina

I’m pacing up and down my room when he knocks.

The fear and humiliation has faded a little, replaced by burning anger in my chest as I rip the door open. Stefano stares back at me with those black eyes, eyes ringed with shades of deep purple as the bruising develops.

He stills when I reach out my hand to touch the cut on his lip, voicing the question I buried earlier, too lost in my own pain until he walked away. “Why?”

What was the punishment for?

He sees the question in my face. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters.” It matters to me. “Why, Stefan? And don’t lie to me. Please.”

He doesn’t meet my eyes. “When the meeting ended last night… only Rossi wasn’t in the room. The others – he would have taken you home, and I knew you would want to see them.”

He glances up. “So I… I blocked the door. Stopped him from leaving, for a few minutes. Him and Matteo, so they could have that time with you. And I hoped that you would wake up in time to see them.”

He flexes his tattooed hands, clearly uncomfortable with my gaze. “I would like to take you somewhere, if you’re willing. In the house, I mean.”

I nod, my throat tight.

He did that for me, and Salvatore beat him badly for it. “Why don’t you leave this place? Why stay here?”

He clearly despises everything about his inheritance.

I watch as his mouth twitches up into a slightly crooked smile. “I was about to answer that question. Trust you to jump the gun.”

I stare at that small smile. The dimple that flashes. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him smile before.

When his hand slips into mine, tangling our fingers together as he leads me away from my room, I don’t pull away.

We walk down the hall, taking a few turns until he stops at another identical door. When I see the guards, I move to step away from him, but his fingers tighten. “It’s okay.”

He strides up to them, his face settling into emptiness. They eye me dubiously. One clears his throat. “Salvatore—,”

“I checked.” Stefan’s voice is cool. “But feel free to disturb him if you feel it necessary.”

They exchange glances. I let out a breath as they step aside, and he squeezes my hand as he softly opens the door and tugs me inside.

I turn to him as the door closes. “He doesn’t know we’re here, does he?”

I keep my voice low. Stefano shakes his head. “It… it will be fine. I promise.”

He still hasn’t let go of my hand. I glance over his shoulder, pausing.

This room has a slightly bigger window than the rest. It’s open, the late afternoon breeze creating swirls in the gauzy white material that hangs over the neat bed. Artwork decorates the walls, paintings and canvases clustered together to create chaotic but beautiful color all around us.

The woman in the rocking chair doesn’t look up at our arrival.

Stefano squeezes my hand once more before he lets it go. I slowly follow as he crosses the room, dropping down onto one knee.

The woman hums lightly, her gaze on the window and the open space beyond. Her dark hair falls loosely over her shoulders, heavily streaked with gray. And her eyes—

Dark eyes. Almost black, the iris and pupil nearly indistinguishable from each other, surrounded by olive skin.

Familiar eyes.

“Mamma,” Stefano says gently. He holds out a hand to me, his eyes softening as he glances back. “I brought someone to meet you. This is Caterina.”

My heart – it cracks. Straight down the middle, as I take his outstretched hand. Following his lead, I keep my own voice low. Gentle. “Piacere di conoscerti, Signora.”

She does not respond to us. She keeps humming, her eyes fixed on the window.

Fragile.

That’s the word that enters my mind, as I watch Stefano. He murmurs to her in soft Italian, his fingers stroking the still smooth skin of her hand.

Slowly, she turns her head to him. And a small, happy smile tips up her lips, so similar to the one he just gave me. “Tesoro mio.”

My eyes burn as he raises her hand to his face, holding it against his cheek. “Sì, mamma.”

But she doesn’t say anything else.

I take a closer look at this room. Several books sit on a bookcase opposite us, well-read and dog-eared. On the table beside her is a sketchbook and sharpened pencil. It looks new. Untouched.

“We can’t stay long.” I find Stefan’s eyes on my face. “They’ll find an excuse to throw us out otherwise, and… she doesn’t like having people in here. Them, I mean. It distresses her.”

My heart fucking breaks at that. His mother has turned back to the window, and Stefan stands, brushing a careful kiss across her cheek.

The humming accompanies us on the way out.

The guards don’t say anything as we leave. I glance over my shoulder, catch them watching us.

Stefan doesn’t seem to care. There’s a lightness to his posture as we walk back to my room in silence, and he follows me inside. He leans back against the door as I sit on the edge of the bed, sliding his hands into his pockets.

My fingers tangle together as I lean forward. “What…,”

I’m not sure that I want to know. But it feels important. Another little piece of the jigsaw, those pieces rapidly adding up to something… unexpected.

This man – he is not what I expected.

“I didn’t grow up here. I grew up in Calabria.”

When I shift, he follows my lead, crossing the room and sitting a few inches away from me. “Iliana – my mother - she was an artist. My father… I don’t know. But it never seemed to bother her, that it was just us. I didn’t know anything about the Cosa Nostra then. Didn’t even give it a thought. We lived in this little village where everyone wandered in and out of each other’s homes, and we were happy.”

He stares down at his hands. “Salvatore hunted her down. She’d run away from him, from the Cosa Nostra, from their parents. She didn’t want any of it. But he found her in the end, and he brought us here. I was ten.”

Our fingers brush. Slowly, I hook my little finger with his. He sighs. “I hated it. Every second. Salvatore had no children, and he picked me as his heir. I didn’t care, didn’t want it either.”

And his words stumble. “I just wanted to go home.”

A small, sad, dark-haired Stefano in this cold house. Dragged from the sunshine, from peace, into the living hell of the Asante world. “I’m sorry.”

He tips up his shoulder. “My mother… she hated it, too. She didn’t belong here. This house was sucking the life from her. So she ran with me, tried to get me away, but we didn’t get far before he found us again.”

Cold ripples across my back. I almost want to stop him. Don’t want to hear whatever follows.

“He wouldn’t let me see her again until I was twelve.” Such quiet, pained words. “And she was different. Whatever he did, it broke her. She didn’t laugh anymore. Didn’t speak at all, really. And she stopped painting, stopped drawing.”

He doesn’t say it. Stopped living.

“Whenever I stepped out of line, he would punish her as well as me. He would stop me from seeing her, take away her books, stop her from being fed, burn her art in front of her. And eventually, I just… did what I was told. It was easier that way, easier than seeing her hurt. Until—,”

We sit in silence, the words left unsaid. Until you came.

It feels as though he’s gifted me something precious. Something that he hasn’t shared with anyone. Instead, he withdrew. Withdrew from the world, keeping to himself. Protecting.

Silent.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “For sharing her with me.”

He dips his head in a nod. I study our linked fingers, the swirls and symbols of his tattoos that cover both arms and trickle down his fingers.

A piece of his heart, for a piece of mine.

“I have a daughter.”

His head jerks to mine, his eyes widening in shock.

“That’s what Matteo – what he took from me, that day. Who he was talking about. A little girl, with green eyes.”

The words feel like razor blades in my throat.

“V’Arezzo eyes.” The quiet statement surprises me, but I suppose it shouldn’t. He sees more than I ever realized. “You left – last year. That’s why?”

“Yes.”

When I shift back, curling up on the bed, he hesitates before he slowly lowers himself opposite me. We lay facing each other, inches apart as I summon up those memories that I locked away, locked down.

“I didn’t realize.” I grip the bedding in my fingers. “Not for a long time. We were careful, but not careful enough. And when I finally understood… I was so scared.”

Petrified in a way I had never been before, at the possibility of a child.

“It ripped my world apart,” I murmur. “I didn’t know what to do. So I went home. And my father - he was furious with me. For the first time, he treated me like I had failed. I wouldn’t tell him who I’d been with, so he assumed it was a Corvo. If he’d known it was Dante… I was scared, but I didn’t want him to use her. She would have been a bargaining chip. Something to be hoarded and traded to the highest bidder, to make the V’Arezzo’s pay whatever price he wanted.”

Like I was, in the end. And so was she, despite everything I did to stop it from happening.

His fingers reach for mine again. And it loosens something in my chest to hold onto him as it pours out.

“On the day that she was born, it rained. And as soon as it was over, the rain stopped. But they took her.”

There is no judgment in his gaze. “Did you want them to?”

“I… I don’t know,” I admit it. The truth. “Maybe before. I never planned to be a mother so young. But not once she was here. I wanted to hold her, to think and plan and try to find a way to keep her, but the midwife walked out with her, and my father told me she would be adopted. Slipped into the system, so nobody would know.”

The cotton turns damp beneath my face. “I didn’t want that to happen. I wanted her close, with people who would care about her. And Dom – he knew. He was with me, and he suggested his sister and her husband. They were struggling to have children of their own, desperate for their own family, and they were – I knew them. Knew they would take care of her.”

My breath shudders. “So I made a deal with my father. She would go to Bea and Pepe, and I would focus on my role as the Corvo heir. I wouldn’t… step out of line, wouldn’t do anything to embarrass him. And I would never, ever see her, or speak of her. So I named her Alessia, and Dom took her to them. And… that was that. It took me a few weeks to recover, and then I came back to campus like nothing had ever happened. I lied to Dante. I couldn’t – I knew he would fight for her, and I was so scared that my father would change his mind. That I would lose even that little piece of her.”

I pretended that nothing had changed.

Like I had not changed, irrevocably altered. No longer only the Corvo heir, focused and cold.

Everything changed.

“They loved her so much.” My voice breaks. “They were the kind of parents I would have liked to have. That she deserved to have. And Matteo – he killed them, and he took Alessia. I don’t know where she is now.”

“Cat.” He brushes tear-soaked hair away from my face. I close my eyes, feeling his lips on my forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. He whispers it over and over again as I lean into him, his arms wrapping around me, holding me together. “I’m sorry.”

It’s a long time before I lift my head again. Stefan’s eyelashes cast dark shadows across his cheeks, the thin lines of light gone under the blanket of night.

“They always win.” My voice feels hoarse. Stefan frowns, trying to follow my words. “Men like Salvatore, and Matteo. They always win because it’s easy, when you have nothing you care about. Nothing to lose.”

He hums into my hair. “I don’t believe that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

His fingers trace shapes on my back. “Look at what you have done, Caterina Corvo. How far would you go for the ones you love?”

I try to answer, but… I can’t.

“Are you done?” The question is gentle. “Done fighting?”

Am I done?

“No,” I breathe. It’s still there, that fire. Not as fierce, as bright as it once was. But something deeper. Hotter. Molten.

I am not done.

And I feel that small, secret smile, lift my head to see it for myself. “Then they haven’t won, if there is still something worth fighting for.”

We lay there in silence for a few more minutes. Precious, stolen minutes.

“We’re breaking all the rules today,” I murmur finally. “Feeling rebellious, Asante?”

Something changes in his face then. Something that makes me stiffen, that small piece of happiness and peace slipping through my fingers like smoke. “What is it?”

He smiles again. But it’s smaller this time. Sadder.

“Gio will be outside soon. You’re going home tonight, Cat.”

I stiffen. And then my hands are on his chest as I push myself away, sitting up. “What?”

Hope. It roars to life inside me.

Gio.

I can go home.

Stefan props himself on his elbows. His eyes travel over my face. “There will be a distraction on the other side of the house soon. The guards will be drawn in. And you will slip out, through a side entrance.”

I’m shaking my head, even though my pulse is thundering. “Stefan—,”

“You do not belong in this place, Caterina.” His words slice into my chest, flay it apart. “My mother didn’t, either, and it broke her. She would have wanted this, wanted me to get you out.”

He swallows. “I can’t - I can’t stand back and watch as he destroys you, Cat. I am her son. Not his. Never his. And I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize it.”

There are too many words in my throat, all fighting for space as he climbs off the bed. “I’ll be back soon.”

I can’t breathe, can’t think. “Where is Salvatore tonight?”

His hand brushes mine as I follow him to the door. “Away for the night. Cecile is with him. He won’t be back until tomorrow. The guards are always more lax when he’s not here.”

A hand against my cheek. “It will be fine. Trust me.”

The silence is loud as the door closes behind him. I walk back to the bed on unsteady feet, sitting on the edge.

I’m leaving.

I don’t move, barely dare to breathe, the thoughts tumbling over each other until Stefano slips back inside. “Time to go.”

He grips my hand tightly as he leads me through the halls. Once, we pass two guards walking in the opposite direction. My hands drop to my sides, Stefano’s hand slipping to my upper arm as he grips it.

As soon as they disappear around the corner, his hand drops back down.

He doesn’t take me through the main entrance. He takes me down winding halls that all look the same, so many that I lose count until we reach the end of a hallway. A curtain is set into the wall, and he pulls it across to reveal a thick metal door as he pulls out a key.

I watch him, my heart in my mouth as he unlocks it. “Where did you get that?”

“Salvatore’s office.” He offers me another of those crooked grins. “It’ll be back by morning.”

I wait as he pulls the curtain back into place. The cool night air swirls against my bare arms, and we both glance out at the open space in front of us. This side of the house looks deserted. We’re in the very far corner, close to the wall that circles the estate, and Stefano points silently to a dark rectangle set into the stone.

As I step out, he drags me back, pulling me against his chest. Our breathing merges, mingles, as voices sound in the distance. And then – something that sounds suspiciously like an explosion.

“Quickly.”

He takes off, dragging me with him as we race to that door, another key in his hand. We press ourselves into the alcove as he turns to check we’re clear. Listens.

And then he looks back at me. “Any second now.”

Seconds. That’s all we have left.

And those words find their way out of my throat. “What will he do to you? For this?”

What will the punishment be? For him? For Iliana?

But he only shakes his head, dismissing it. I open my mouth, but he moves faster.

Stefano Asante presses his lips against mine. Softly. Reverently.

And I press back into him, my body softening as his hand wraps around my back, holding me closer as though it’s the final time he’ll ever touch me.

His eyes are bright when he pulls back, presses his lips to my forehead. His eyes close.

And then he gives me that perfect, crooked smile. “I would have liked a lifetime with you, Caterina Corvo. To break all of the rules.”

I can’t breathe, can’t speak, as he gently moves me out of the way, fitting the key to the lock and pushing the heavy door open.

Hands wrap around the edges, pulling it from the other side.

Strong arms wrap around me in the next second, and I let out a sob as Gio buries his face in my neck. “Gio.”

He says my name, says it over and over again like a prayer. “I have you. I have you.”

And then he steps back, my hand wrapped tightly in his. “We don’t have much time. My bike is down the road.”

I turn back, but—

There’s nobody there.

The space is empty, as empty as the cavern that opens up in my chest.

That was his goodbye.

“Cat.” Gio keeps his voice low. “We have to go.”

His brows knit when I stay still. My mouth opens, closes. Gio looks over my shoulder. “He’ll be fine.”

There’s understanding there. But the thoughts continue to race. “Alessia. She’s safe?”

And Gio… he shakes his head. There’s desperation in his eyes. “We’re so close, Cat. Luc is getting her out.”

She’s… still there. Still with Matteo.

Gio follows as I take a step backwards. His hands cup my face.

“We will find her,” he swears. “But you can’t stay here, Cat.”

All of the threats run through my mind.

“There is nothing else to discuss, unless you wish to know exactly how many bones there are to break. A surprising number, for such a small, fragile body.”

And then… there is Stefano.

Salvatore will kill him. Break him, for letting me go.

What will you do for the people you love?

“Don’t you dare.” Gio is pale now, his hands shaking on my face as he reads it, reads the agony there. The decision in my eyes. “Come home, Caterina. Come home, to the people who love you. We’re all waiting for you.”

Pain.

“Ti amo,” I breathe. I slam my mouth against his, breathing him in.

He pushes me back, shaking my shoulders. “No. Cat – we have one chance. I’m begging you.”

But I shake my head. Take another step backwards. “Come back for me, Gio. When you have her. Come back, and we’ll burn this place to the ground.”

I can’t walk away from this. Can’t risk my daughter.

But I won’t leave Stefan either. Won’t leave Iliana Asante to pay the price for my escape.

I’m going to make Salvatore Asante pay.

Cecile, too.

I am not done.

“Please.” It’s a whisper now, an agonized whisper. “Come home, il mio cuore.”

But he knows. He knows.

“I love you.” I let the tears free as I step back into him. Wrap my arms around him, one more time. “I love all of you, with everything that I am. Tell them that, Gio. Tell them I’m still fighting, and I’m coming home.”

His face crumples. “Cat – please.”

But I shake my head, stepping back. It hurts to look at him, but I force myself to do it, force myself to take him in.

“Don’t you dare.” Raw, naked anguish on his face. “Don’t you look at me like it’s the last time, Caterina Corvo.”

He steps closer. “You stay alive. You stay alive, and you come home to us. You hear me?”

I nod, his face blurring beneath the sheen of tears.

It feels like torture, to step further away. To duck back into that doorway, my eyes traveling over him.

“I love you.” His jaw is tight, his own indigo eyes glinting. “You infuriating, stubborn woman.”

My laugh is half-sob. “That’s why you love me, Gio Fusco.”

He swipes his hand over his eyes. “Always. Go. Before they find you here.”

He pushes the door as I step back. Slowly, as if praying for me to change my mind. I brush my fingers over his before they disappear, the door sliding back into place.

Shuddering, I stare at that door.

And then I break into a run. I run for the side door, feeling for the edge and grimacing when I don’t find it. Don’t be locked, don’t be locked—

I breathe out when I find the ridge that lets me open it, dragging it towards me and slipping through. Stefano must have gone around the side, to feign assistance with whatever explosion he set up.

I slip through the halls. So many of them, all the fucking same with their bare walls and slitted windows. Intentionally disorientating.

Put a damn painting up to help with direction, for the love of god. Or a map.

It takes me too long to find my room. I’m panting when I twist the handle, darting inside and slamming it behind me.

I press my forehead into the wood, waiting for my breathing to settle before checking for anything that gives away my presence outside. Mud flecks my lower legs beneath my dress, my bare feet filthy from the packed mud ground.

This might be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, Caterina Corvo.