66. Viviana
Everything happened so fast.
As soon as Anatoly knocked Trofim unconscious, I got my first clear look into the car. I didn’t know the shadowy man in the passenger seat was my father, but I knew he wasn’t a friend. I yelled out to warn Mikhail, but Raoul jumped into action first. The door opened, Raoul leapt in front of Dante, and then…
I can’t bring myself to look, but based on the way Mikhail is shouting, I know enough.
Mikhail was taking cover behind a white hatchback, but he isn’t worried about cover now. He tears across the parking garage like he thinks he’s invincible. Right now, he might be.
“Agostino!” he roars, rage practically rippling behind him as he charges at my father.
My father whips around. His face pales when he sees Mikhail coming towards him. He’s frozen for a second before he ducks behind the car…
And comes back up with Dante in his arms.
No!
I don’t realize I’ve spoken—or moved—but everyone turns to me. I’m stumbling across the garage, my arms outstretched. “Don’t hurt him!”
“Then tell your husband to give me space,” my father bellows back.
Mikhail slows down, but even from this distance, I can see the murder in his eyes.
“I told Trofim this was a stupid plan,” my father mutters almost to himself. “We should have struck when it was just Mikhail and the Colombian, but Trofim wanted Viviana to watch. Now, he’s dead and I’m left cleaning up his mess.”
He wanted me to watch. Watch my husband die. My son, too, probably.
My stomach churns.
“This is your mess,” I tell him. “You got involved with Trofim because you hate me. After all these years, you’re still mad at me. So let Dante go and take me instead.”
Dante is wide-eyed and shaking in my father’s hold, and I can’t look at him. If I do, I’ll collapse. The only way I can save him is to stay strong.
“Why would I want you now?” he spits. “You’re useless to me. You”re pregnant with another man’s baby. Trofim is dead.”
“As good as,” Anatoly agrees. He’s standing over Trofim’s unconscious body, gun at the ready. “As soon as he wakes up and knows it was me.”
“Even Christos is losing interest in Mikhail,” my father adds. “Now that Helen is re-engaged, he doesn’t want revenge. I have no alliances, nothing to gain… You are nothing to me.”
“Careful,” Mikhail growls.
My father cackles. “I should be careful? I’m the one with the leverage.” He pats Dante on the shoulder hard enough that Dante winces. “What a way to meet my grandson, huh?”
There’s so much to unpack there, but only one thing matters. “Let Dante go.”
“Not until I know I will walk out of this parking garage alive,” he retorts. “I’m not letting him go until I know you aren’t coming after me.”
Mikhail sneers and starts to say something, but I charge ahead. “We’ll let you go. I never wanted to kill you, Daddy.”
His eyebrow arches suspiciously. It’s been a long time since I’ve called my father “Daddy.” It feels foreign rolling off my tongue, but who needs dignity? Not me. I just need my son.
My father hesitates for a second before a sick smile twists across his face. “That’s the problem with you, Viviana. You’re always lying to me. It makes it impossible to trust you.”
“You can trust me on this! If you let Dante go, I won’t hurt you.”
“What about your husband?” He eyes Mikhail nervously. “Can you guarantee that?”
Mikhail doesn’t turn to look at me. He’s laser-focused on my father’s hands around our son’s neck.
My father just shot one of Mikhail’s best friends in the chest and is now holding his son hostage. There’s no saying what kind of hell Mikhail has planned for him.
I dodge the question. “We just want Dante safe.”
“In that case—” He takes a step backward, dragging Dante’s much-shorter legs across the cement. “You won’t mind if I take Dante with me and dump him a block or two from here. Just to make sure I can clear the area before you come looking for him.”
“No!” I lunge forward, but my father flexes his fingers around his gun. It’s a silent threat.
He’ll kill him if he needs to.
“He’ll be fine,” he says coolly. “Besides, it will be good bonding time for us.”
My father takes another step towards the exit when, suddenly, a loud roar echoes behind him.
He jolts, loosening his grip on Dante just enough that Dante squirms away from him and runs, full-tilt, towards me. The distraction gives Mikhail time to close the gap.
Before my father can react, Mikhail swipes his gun out of his hand and has his arm around his neck.
“Mama!” Dante leaps into my arms, the remote control for his dinosaur still in his hands.
I cradle him against my chest. “You’re okay, baby. No one is going to hurt you.”
“Please. No.” My father’s pleas echo through the empty parking garage. All of the arrogance has drained out of his voice, replaced with raw fear.
“You just tried to use my son like a bartering chip,” Mikhail growls, squeezing my father’s neck until his face is red. “Was using Viviana as one her entire life not enough for you?”
“This was Trofim’s idea!” he cries. “I never wanted to come here and take you on. He blackmailed me into?—”
Mikhail drops him to the ground and kicks him in the stomach. I twist Dante away so he can’t see.
“You did so good, bud.” I kiss his cheek. “You were so smart.”
He sniffles. “My dinosaur scared him away with his roars.”
“That was genius. You scared him and escaped. I’m so proud of you.”
My father’s groans fill the space, but I hold Dante against me, shushing him as he whimpers. “Please,” my father whines. “Viviana, please! Don’t let him kill me.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands tall. My father doesn’t deserve another second of my time, but… he’s still my father.
Anatoly appears in front of me. His eyes are still trained on Trofim’s limp body, but he’s talking to me. “I’ll take Dante if you want to go deal with that.”
I’m not sure what Anatoly means, but sitting here huddled in a corner while Mikhail cleans up my mess seems selfish. So I kiss Dante and promise him I’ll be right back. Then I stand tall, press my shoulders back, and cross the parking garage.
Gunsmoke is still wreathed in the air. Cement dust has settled like a fine powder on the ground. My shoes crunch over shattered glass.
Mikhail must hear me coming because he drags my father to his feet, the gun pointed at his temple, and faces me. “What do you want me to do, Viviana?”
I lose some of my confidence. I don’t know anything about torture. Even seeing my father like this, bloody and limp in Mikhail’s grasp, makes me nauseous. “You’re leaving it up to me?”
“As Agostino said, he’s your father. The decision should be yours.”
My father whimpers and blood spills over his lower lip. “Vivi,” he coos, using the nickname he gave me when I was a child. I only heard it when he wanted something from me. This time is no different. “I went about things the wrong way, but I only ever wanted what was best for you. You know that, don’t you?”
His lip is busted and there’s a mottled bruise around his eye. He’s pawing weakly at Mikhail’s hand around his neck, but he doesn’t have a chance of breaking free.
He’s weak.
He has always been weak.
“You controlled every element of my life,” I say softly. “You sold me to ruthless men for alliances that benefited you. You killed the boy I loved because he was born without money.”
“I wanted you to be protected,” he gasps.
“You wanted to protect yourself. It was never about me. I was just a way to get what you wanted: security.” I frown, taking in the pathetic scene in front of me. “You are terrified of the people around you and you were willing to sacrifice me to save yourself. Why should I do anything different?”
“Because I’m your father,” he says again, as if it means anything. “We are blood, Viviana.”
I try to feel something. Part of me wants this moment to hurt just so I know I’m not half the monster my father was.
But I feel nothing as I turn to Mikhail. “He stopped being my father a long time ago. Kill him.”
Horror flickers across Agostino Giordano’s face for an instant before the bullet tears through his skull.