Dario DeLuca: Savage Bloodline

5. Dario

FIVE

The phone vibratesagainst the desk in my condo in the city. It’s a relentless pulse I’ve ignored for days. I glance at the caller ID, my sister Carmela’s name staring back at me.

“Finally picked up, huh?” Her voice is pure Sicilian fire, laced with mock irritation and genuine concern.

A sigh escapes my lips, heavy, tasting of duty and familial obligation mingled with the bitterness of neglect. “Bene, anche a te ciao.” Well, hello to you, too.

“Mi hai ignorato.” Carmela pouts. You’ve been ignoring me.

“I haven’t been ignoring you, sorellina. Just busy.”

“Over a week, fratello. You’re so busy you can’t make time for your only sister?”

I smirk. It’s just like her to play the only sister card. Spoiled is what she is, but there’s no one to blame but us.

“What do you need?”

“Nothing, now,” she adds. “I had to get Rafael’s opinion on the color palette because you couldn’t be bothered.”

She should know by now that wedding details are as foreign to me as innocence is to our bloodline.

“You know better than to ask me anything about wedding colors. Where’s Angelo? Why didn’t he help you? It is his wedding, after all.”

“He was useless,” she quips, and I can almost hear her rolling her eyes. “He thinks taupe is a type of fish.”

Her laugh, light and carefree, trickles through the line. I stifle a chuckle, never letting it reach my lips. Her fiancé is a good man—a rarity in our world, untouched by the shadows we grew up in. But he’s good for her and keeps her happy.

Knowing she’s found someone who pulls her into the light warms my chest. I imagine her big day, where she exchanges vows under the sun, untainted. Unlike our parents’ union and now my own—arranged marriages like pawns on a chessboard—hers is a choice made from love.

She deserves that.

A pause stretches between us, the silence a thin thread ready to snap. I can almost see her in that sun-drenched kitchen of our childhood, hands braced on the marble countertop, waiting.

“Are you coming to Italy? You better not stand me up, Dario.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I assure her with a firmness I don’t entirely feel. The responsibility rests on my shoulders. The honor of walking her down the aisle is now mine. She’s the last scrap of innocence in our bloodstained family portrait, and it’s a big cross to bear, but I’ll guard that with my life.

There’s no way I’d miss it. Then I glance down at the stack of pictures before me, and suddenly, I’m reminded of the deal with the mayor. I should have plenty of time to fly to Italy before the campaign.

“Good.” She sighs.

I shift and lean back in my chair. “Plus, that means you’ll owe me one.”

Her laughter tinkles, but confusion edges in. “Owe you? For what?”

“Best man duties,” I toss out, casual as a stray bullet. Sliding open my drawer, I take out her wedding invitation, my thumb brushing along the edges of the thick cardstock.

“Scusa?” Excuse me? Carmela’s tone sharpens, Italian slipping through, a sign she’s caught off balance. “Your best man?”

I steer the conversation away, reaching for safer ground. “How’s Ma doing?”

But she’s relentless, my sister, won’t let me evade so easily.

”Non cambiare argomento,” she chastises. Don’t change the subject. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing, just—” A deep breath, and I’m wading into murkier waters. I know she will flip out, knowing I’m marrying someone before she can vet them. “I’ve got my own… arrangement to consider.”

“Arrangement?” The question is a soft prod. “You’re getting married?”

“Yes.”

“To whom? Do we know her? Is she Italian?”

“No. She’s the daughter of the mayor here.”

“Stop being so cryptic and spill it. I know Rafael has the line encrypted, so you can stop tiptoeing around it.”

“It’s a business deal. Her father and I have an agreement. With her at my side, I’m running for a city council seat.”

“You forced his hand, didn’t you?”

“I only seized an opportunity. Besides, you can thank our father for putting him in my path. Apparently, dear old Dad owed him a favor, and I need to be on that council.”

“Politics…” Disapproval weighs down her tone.

“Yes.” That’s all I’m willing to tell her over the phone. She’s not clueless about the family business, but we try to keep her and my mother as far away from it as possible. It’s why our father left her and mother behind when he brought me to the States all those years ago. So he could groom me for my place in line while shielding them from it all.

He’d tell me that women are precious and worthy of protection at all times. If he’d brought them with us, they’d be in harm’s way and could be used as a liability to get to us. They’d visit every once in a while, but never for long.

“Well, whatever it is, be careful. I stay out of what you do, but I trust you know what you’re doing. But stay vigilant. If the mayor was in bed with our father, he’s no saint, Dario. Don’t forget that.”

“Got it handled, little sister.”

The line goes quiet for a beat, and I sense there’s more she wants to say. She’s always been curious, digging into things and not stopping until satisfied with the answer.

“Well. Tell me about her.” She huffs. “Do you at least like your soon-to-be bride?”

My sister’s question bounces around in my head as I pick up one of the pictures from the stack before me. I glance down at the photo, taking in the image of the woman who’s about to be my wife.

She’s laughing and eating with some friends at a local brunch spot. Mia is living life completely unaware the camera is watching her. Clueless to the danger that’s been following her around the city.

I study her, tracing her features with my mind. She’s gorgeous, I’ll give her that. Buttery smooth skin, teeth so white they’re blinding, but her eyes speak to me the most. Big, deep eyes that seem like she can see right through you.

My mind goes back to the other day when her father told her she was meant to be mine and the defiance that seeped from her. I can’t help but admire her fight and her strength. But I recall a hint of fear behind those beautiful eyes.

It’s understandable. After all, what young woman wouldn’t quake at the thought of being married off to a virtual stranger? Let alone one with my reputation and power.

“She’s…” I pause, grasping for the right words. “Not what I expected.”

“You like her, don’t you?” Carmela asks, a smile hidden in her voice.

“I told you. It’s business.”

“Oh, spare me the macho bull. You forget I know you, fratello.”

I drop the picture.

“This is more than business. I can tell.”

“You’re wrong, sorellina.”

“You fool only yourself, Dario. Is she pretty?”

I contemplate my answer and steal one more glance at the images. “She’s not bad to look at.”

Carmela chuckles. “I’m sure. Well, I’ll add her as your plus-one to the wedding. Have you told Mama?”

“Figured you’ll take care of that for me now that you know.”

She gasps. “Are you saying I talk too much?”

“Those are your words, not mine.”

A knock at the door pulls my attention away from the call. Rafael stands in the entryway, waiting for me to wave him in.

“Vaffanculo.” Screw you. Carmela snips.

“Come in,” I wave Rafael over and continue talking to my sister. “Kiss Mama for me.”

“Hey, Carmela. Are you going with the colors I picked?” Rafael says loud enough for her to hear.

“Yes. Thank you.

“She said thank you.”

Rafael only nods.

“I need to discuss some things with our cousin. I’ll call you next week.

“You better. And send us pictures of this woman you’ll be marrying.”

“Bye, Carmela.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Love you. Bye, Rafael.”

With that, my sister ends the call, and I drop the device on the desk and let out a deep exhale. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s the same ole Carmela. What were you able to find out?” I ask as he sits down in front of me.

Rafael digs into the large manila envelope and pulls out pages of printed still-frame images. He sets them on the desk and spreads them out for me.

“I ran the serial numbers on the back of the prints we got from the mayor and figured out what printer was used.”

“That’s it.”

“Not quite. So, the serial number records not just the printer type but also specific locations or offices. For example, one of the printing services at an office supply or a pharmacy. Once I figured out the printer, I had to search for places that still use those printers today. Considering that everything is via smartphones and shit now.”

“That was my thought process as well. Why would you use a regular printer these days?”

Rafael tilts his head. “My thoughts exactly. It was strategic.”

“They wanted us to be able to figure it out?”

“Yeah.” He points with a nod and continues his spiel. “So I figured out what facilities still offered self-service printing and had to narrow it down to the place in the city. One of those places is just a few blocks from Mia’s content studio.”

“What the fuck is a content studio?” I blurt out.

“You’re about to marry this woman and don’t know shit about her, do you?”

I give him a pointed gaze, and he shakes his head.

“Finish telling me what you’ve found.”

“I started with the location near her studio. Considering this person has been following her, that would be most likely where he’s been.”

“Keep the friends of your enemies close.”

“Exactly. It took some convincing, but I got access to the security footage and used the date from these photos as a guide, and this is what I found.”

Rafael points to one of the images of a man dressed in dark clothing. His face isn’t visible as he’s wearing a hood and ensuring that only his back is in the camera. But the spot under my cousin’s finger catches my attention the most. I snatch up the blurry piece of paper to examine it closer.

With a frown, I stare at a symbol I haven’t seen since I was a teen.

“You remember that crest, too?” he asks, awaiting my response.

“That can’t be possible.”

“My thoughts exactly. But more importantly, what’s the mayor gotten us into?”

As the words slip out of my mouth, my phone dings and the mayor’s name flashes across the screen. I open the message with Rafael craning his neck to read it as well.

Mayor Gordon: She ran.

When I pick up the phone, I let out an aggravated breath. Already, this woman is causing me problems. I key in my message and snatch up my things.

Me: I’ll find her.