A Mastery of Crows (Mafia University #4)

1. 1. Domenico

1. Domenico

“ C at.”

A small furrow appears between her brows at my murmur, but her eyes don’t open.

Carefully, I tug the blue fleece blanket up, hiding her tangled mess of a dress. It’s barely more than rags and blood at this point. My eyes linger on the sight of my own hands, so close to her face.

Scarred and bloody.

As we all are.

I drag my eyes over her still form again, taking her in even as I pull my hands back.

Here.

She’s here, and safe, and far away from the battlefield we’ve left behind.

Until the next one.

Swiping a hand over my face as if I could possibly wipe away my exhaustion, I collapse into a seat opposite Dante. His fingers trace over the crumpled photograph in his hand, but he’s staring out of the window, his face expressionless.

I glance down at the photo, catching a hint of bronze curls. My chest begins to tighten, and squeeze.

And then I turn my face away.

When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse - from the smoke, maybe, or the fight. Dark traces of dried blood still fleck his face as he turns those all-too-damn-familiar green eyes on me. “She’s asleep?”

At my nod, he leans forward and looks around me, as if assessing Cat for himself.

Or perhaps he’s making sure she’s really here . As if the events of tonight – or last night, by now – were nothing more than a cruel trick to tease us into believing that we might actually have won, when we have lost over and over again.

Checking on her is something none of us have been able to prevent ourselves from doing, during these last quiet hours.

She curled up in a seat and let us do it without any of the attitude I’d normally expect from her. She just… sat there, silent and pale in her bloody gown with her cold fingers gripping mine, even as I held onto her just as tightly. We sat there, and I stared at her as she stared out of the window, watching mutely as the pitch-black view outside slowly changed to golden shades of dawn and the world passed by beneath us.

And for the first time, I had no idea what she was thinking. What nightmares might be hiding behind those deep brown eyes.

I glance back at her again - wondering who she thinks she’s fooling, with her eyes scrunched closed.

I know her tells, the movement of her body – I know her better than she probably knows herself. And she’s not fooling me.

Nor Dante. The same awareness reflects back at me in his face, jaw tightening. He forces his eyes away, and back to me.

I wonder if he feels as helpless as I do, now there are no enemies left to fight. Not on this plane, although the tension in the air suggests otherwise.

Gripping the armrest, I force out a breath. “How much longer until we get there?”

He checks his watch. “An hour, maybe.”

An hour until we land in Palermo, and the quiet peace that we’ve found in these hours above the sky is shattered again.

When I meet his gaze this time, my own voice is grim. “We need to regroup.”

“That’s what we’re going to do.”

It’s not Dante who responds. Gio slides into the vacant seat beside mine, an empty glass dangling from his hand. He looks worse than Dante, the deep cut above his left eyebrow already knitting, even as the bruising around his eyes continues to build into a vivid purple. “But we’ve earned a few days to rest, Dom.”

My hands tighten on the armrests. “Matteo doesn’t need a few days. Every hour we wait is an advantage for him.”

No, he needs no extra time. Not when he wasn’t even part of this fight. Unharmed, sitting on his fucking throne in Cat’s family home with his minions drinking and fucking and fighting around him.

You walked out.

The thought flips over and over in my mind, accompanied by a solid dose of guilt that settles into my stomach like lead.

I just… left. Left him there and walked away.

I could have tried , could have tried for Cat, but all I could think of was getting to her as soon as fucking possible.

Some fucking enforcer I am.

I wonder how he feels with his pet killer missing.

Gio is staring at me. When I meet his stare, he works a hand over his jaw. “We meet up with Luc. That – that has to be our priority right now.”

We both carefully avoid looking at Dante. At the photograph he grips tightly.

“And then,” Gio continues steadily, his tone brokering no disagreement, “We rest . We’ll be no good to anyone if we’re exhausted. We rest, we rebuild, and then – then we can plan.”

Rest .

My hands clench tighter. I can’t think of anything worse than fucking resting, than losing myself in my own thoughts.

I want to fight.

Want to feel blood beneath my nails, the crunch of bone. I need it, the pull in my veins urging me even now to pick a fight.

If I don’t find a way to release the fury bubbling beneath my skin, then it’s going to erupt.

Gio eyes me. My head jerks in a nod. “Where’s Asante?”

Blue eyes narrow. “In the back room. Checking on his mother.”

And avoiding us, no doubt.

Footsteps sound from behind me, and the man in question appears as I look over my shoulder. We all watch without trying to hide it as he leans over Cat and brushes her hair back, his broad shoulders hiding her briefly before he straightens.

He doesn’t shy away from our stares. Instead, he meets them before he nods to Gio’s empty glass. “Any left?”

Stefano Asante looks just as exhausted as any of us, but my shoulders tense as Gio waves a hand toward the bar lining one side of the plane. “Help yourself.”

“ Grazie .” The mutter as he brushes past us is near silent. We wait until he returns, several fingers of amber liquid filling the cut crystal glass. He throws it back like water, swallowing most of it in one before he faces us. He doesn’t bother to sit, to take the empty chair beside Dante. “So.”

Here we are, then. Minus one.

And I wish Luc was here, here with his fucking irreverent charm and his sarcasm to lighten the mood. Strange, to feel that need when I’ve spent most of the last three months desperately wishing he was anywhere but in my vicinity.

He played his role. Played the irreverent playboy to perfection, so well that we all doubted him – thought he had turned on us, on Cat, in favor of joining the winning side in this clusterfuck of a war.

I wonder what scars it has left on him.

I haul myself up from the chair, shrugging past Stefano to grab my own drink. I don’t bother with a glass, instead gripping the neck of the bottle with my finger, and he stiffens as I push back past him to get to my seat. As if bracing for an altercation.

As he fucking should.

I have not forgotten.

I will never forget.

The Asante brand, burned into her fucking skin. The promise I made.

And as our eyes meet, I know he’s thinking the same.

The brandy burns, and I welcome it, that little bite of pain. I take a second swig, and then a third, until Gio curses fluidly. “Steady, Dom.”

Ignoring him, I pin my eyes on Stefano. “Why are you here, Asante?”

The tension jumps. Dante straightens in his seat, his eyes also landing on Stefano, even as Gio shifts his eyes between us.

Stefano doesn’t look away. He meets my stare, his shoulders straightening. “Because where she goes, I follow.”

Red.

The mist swoops, threatening to descend over my eyes, and I fight it, fight it with every inch of me. “You’re a dead man fucking walking if you think I’m going to let you anywhere near her. Be grateful you’re still alive, Asante, and that’s only because you got them in.”

I gesture to Gio and Dante as he stiffens. “Don’t call me Asante.”

“You’re the heir now,” Gio points out with a frown. “No getting away from it.”

But Stefano only stares at me, dark eyes unblinking. “I don’t want any fucking part of that inheritance. It can burn to the fucking ground for all I care. Have it. Take it, pick over whatever scraps are left. I never wanted it.”

I take another swig as I survey him. I’ve never heard him speak so much at once, let alone with so much vehemence in his tone - have never seen his face flood with color as it does now.

“So fucking loyal,” I mutter, and this time, rage crosses his face as he steps closer. Rage that almost – almost – matches what bubbles away beneath my own skin as he leans down.

“I am loyal to those I care about, Rossi. Caterina asked me to come, so I’m here. And the only way you’ll get me to leave her side is if you put a gun to my head and pull the fucking trigger. Want to get it over with now?”

My temper erupts. “Don’t fucking tempt me—,”

I’m out of my seat, both of us squaring off against each other. Gio jumps up as well, pushing between us with a snarled curse. “ Basta! Enough. We have enough fucking battles. She chose him, Dom. Get your head around it, and quickly.”

I snap my head to him, the anger rising in sweeping waves that make my hands shake as I clench them into tight fists. “She was fucking forced into it. Where’s the choice in that?”

Whatever Caterina was forced to do to stay alive while she was buried in that fucking hellhole - whatever she felt she had to do, to say, to survive it – I’ll be fucking damned if I let him hold her hostage over it for a moment longer.

Not when I have failed her so badly already.

But Gio shakes his head at me, and there’s something in his expression - something like pain, that makes me pause.

“Stefano got her out ,” he says quietly. His hand is on my shoulder, squeezing, gripping as if he would hold me in place in case I go for the asshole’s jugular. “I was there , outside the walls, waiting for her. I saw her, spoke to her. But she wouldn’t – she wouldn’t leave . She went back, Dom. There was no coercion. She chose to walk back inside the Asante compound, and nobody forced her.”

My eyes dart to his. She wouldn’t —

“She went back.” Gio hesitates, then. “For him .”

My eyes slide to Stefano’s face. And it’s twisted, twisted in something that looks remarkably like the agony lacing my own chest.

“I wish she had left,” he rasps, his eyes on mine. And there’s disbelief there, as he shakes his head. “But he’s right. She came back. She would not leave me, and she wouldn’t risk Alessia. And the cost —,”

A hole opens up in my chest as his voice stutters over that word.

His voice hardens. “I will not leave her now. Whatever follows.”

I have to close my eyes.

She went back.

“So,” Dante says quietly. “Then there were six.”

I tear my eyes away from Stefano to glance at him in question. He waves his hand. “Six men, including Morelli. Unless we’re expecting any more?”

There’s a twist in his voice. Something harsh, but it’s me he’s staring at as if he wouldn’t mind giving me the fight I feel so desperate for.

“What?” My tone borders violence.

He only raises a mocking brow at me. “I’m only checking. Any more arrivals we should know about? What about added extras ? Do I have any other children you’ve hidden from me, Domenico? Or was it only my daughter you lied about?”

The others still.

Dante’s sharp blow lands with all the more power behind it for the unexpected question. I rock back on my heels as if it were physical, taking in the fury he finally allows to show on his face now that we’re all out of immediate danger.

Another reckoning to face.

And I knew it was coming, knew that I would need to answer for this too - but fuck if I’d nearly forgotten amidst the pain of everything else these last few months. And that guilt wraps itself around my neck with a throttling grip.

Whatever friendship we started to build… I see none of that reflected in his face as he stands, his fingers adjusting the fit of his suit jacket, even though it’s covered in soot and ripped on the one side.

This is the V’Arezzo capo. Cold, and angry, and right to be. I have no defence, aside from protecting Cat.

And she will always be my first priority.

“Dante—,”

There’s an apology, low and genuine, in my voice. Or the beginnings of one. The words I owe him are too big to fit within a single sentence, and too fragile for me to share them here, with everyone watching us.

But his own anger is too strong to allow me anything at all, and I can’t fucking blame him for it as he steps closer. I don’t move, even as his finger stabs into my chest.

“You’re itching for a damn fight, Domenico.” I jerk at that, but he doesn’t let up, his words a low snarl. “I can fucking see it – all of us can see it. And I’ll happily fucking give it to you, but not here . If I can hold onto my need to punch you in the fucking face for keeping my daughter a secret from me, then you can sit the fuck down until we get off this plane and get her somewhere safe .”

His words drop to a hiss as he glances behind me.

We all turn, as if all of us are synced to the woman who brought us together in the first place.

But her eyes stay closed, even as that furrow in her brow remains.

Awake, but silent.

And Caterina says nothing.