33. Thirty-Two
Thirty-Two
Fabrizio
I ’ve never felt such bone-deep weariness, both physically and emotionally. It’s like an invisible hand has drained me of every ounce of strength, leaving me feeling hollow and utterly spent. Yet, in this overwhelming fatigue, there’s an odd sense of freedom and lightness, a relief that’s hard to explain. The emotional storm that had raged inside me for days has finally subsided, revealing a chaotic, swirling emptiness. This void is hard to describe; it feels like it has risen from the depths of my soul, enveloping every part of me with an unsettling calm.
I should feel a sense of closure now that I know who was behind my wife’s death. After countless sleepless nights, relentless pursuit of the truth, and unwavering commitment to justice, the truth has finally come to light. But it’s darker and more twisted than I could have ever imagined. The reality stands before me, stark and unyielding, casting long shadows over everything I thought I knew.
The moment I pulled the trigger, when the bullet found its mark right between Nicole’s eyes with unerring precision, it should have been a moment of righteous retribution. The act was swift, precise, and final, a culmination of all the rage, grief, and determination that had driven me to this point. It should have been a cathartic release, a moment where justice was not just served but embodied in the very act of vengeance. Instead of the anticipated closure, I am left grappling with an unsettling sense of emptiness.
I should feel regret, knowing that her death was far too swift and painless given the heinous acts she committed against my wife and the sinister plans she had for my children. Her end should have mirrored the suffering she inflicted on my family, a drawn-out reflection of the excruciating pain and relentless anguish she caused. But as she spewed her deranged tirades filled with venomous words, denouncing her own sister, niece, and nephew, I couldn’t bear to prolong my own suffering. The malevolence she harbored was clear, and I couldn’t listen to her deranged rants any longer. The sudden finality of her death leaves me with a lingering sense of incompleteness. The justice I sought remains just out of reach, shrouded in the same darkness that has haunted me since the day Lexi died. The echoes of the past reverberate through my mind, each memory a reminder of the love I lost and the darkness that has taken its place. The oppressive shadow that only began to lift when Sienna stumbled into my life; her presence brought a light I had long thought extinguished.
I should feel an overwhelming wave of relief that I found her unharmed, even though she was in complete shock. The sheer terror in her wide, frightened eyes and the tremble in her delicate hands as I led her back home should be etched into my memory forever. The intensity of the fear she experienced is something that will never leave me, serving as a stark reminder of how close I came to losing her.
I should be immensely grateful that, despite the harrowing ordeal she went through, she remains physically unscathed. Her safety, at the very least, is a small mercy in this otherwise devastating situation. But my relief is tainted by an all-consuming guilt that gnaws relentlessly at my conscience. I am the architect of this catastrophe, having dragged her into this abyss with me. Every perilous step she took into this nightmare was a step I led her to, and the crushing weight of that responsibility bears down on me relentlessly. Each whimper that escaped her lips, every tremor that shook her body as she slept, felt like a searing slap across my face, a piercing stab in the heart I thought had died with my wife. The torment of seeing her suffer because of my actions is a burden I fear I will never escape. One that I am not sure she’ll ever be able to forgive me for, let alone me being able to forgive myself. From the very start, my intuition about Sienna has been unwavering; she is as pure and innocent as she appears. She is a beacon of light in the suffocating darkness that surrounds me. Her laughter echoes like a melody through the desolate corridors of my mind, her kindness a soothing balm to my wounded soul. She makes me indescribably happy.
Yet, my presence in her life has done nothing but scare her, hurt her, and endanger her. The realization that I am the source of her pain is a bitter pill to swallow. The prospect of causing her further harm looms large, unless I find the strength to let her go. I must face the heart-wrenching possibility that the best way to protect her is to remove myself from her life entirely. The complexity of emotions swirling within me is a tangled web of grief, anger, relief, and confusion, each thread pulling me in a different direction of the moral labyrinth I now navigate. In the end, the lines between right and wrong, vengeance and justice, are irrevocably blurred, leaving me adrift in a sea of uncertainty.
How do I reconcile the relief of finding Sienna safe with the guilt of knowing I put her in danger? How do I balance the joy she brings me with the pain my presence causes her? My heart aches with the weight of these conflicting emotions, and I find myself questioning every decision, every action that led us here.
“I didn’t think I would find you here.” My eyes reluctantly pull away from the abyss I’ve been staring into and land on the doorway, where my brother stands. His silhouette is etched against the faint morning light spilling in from the hallway, casting a soft glow around him. Deep lines of concern are etched into his face as he strides purposefully toward me, each step heavy with unspoken worry.
“And where else would I be?” I reply, my voice tinged with both resignation and a hint of sarcasm. The weight of the past few days has settled heavily on my shoulders, and the exhaustion is evident in my tone. Marcello gives me a pointed look, one that speaks volumes without the need for words. It’s a look that conveys understanding, frustration, and empathy all at once. He knows the turmoil that has been brewing inside me, the sleepless nights, and the constant state of anxiety.
“She’s still sleeping.” No wonder she is; I had asked the doctor to give Sienna something to ensure she would sleep soundly as soon as she was brought home. The weight of the past few days has taken a toll on all of us, but it has been especially hard on her. I needed to make sure she got her rest while I dealt with my sister-in-law. At this moment, I’m relieved that Sienna is still upstairs in bed because I don’t know if I’m ready to face her hurt, anger, or reproaches—whatever emotions may come. The thought of confronting her feelings, her pain, and her questions fills me with dread. I’m not sure I have the strength to handle it just yet.
“Matteo is on his way to pick up the kids,” my brother informs me, breaking the silence that has enveloped us like a shroud. “Unless you want them to stay with Dad a bit longer?”
“No. It’s fine. I’m sure Sienna will want to see them as soon as she feels better.” I inhale deeply. “And they need some sense of normalcy. The past weeks have been… a nightmare.” Thankfully, the twins are still young enough to be shielded from the full gravity of what happened. They were more confused than scared, struggling to grasp the sudden absence of Sienna, who had quickly become a constant presence in their lives.
“You could have just called me,” I tell Marcello. The room feels heavier with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved tension.
“I could have,” he replies with a nonchalant shrug, his demeanor as casual as if we were discussing the weather. “But I also wanted to let you know that Nicole… has been taken care of.” I can see right through him. He isn’t here just to deliver news; he’s here to make sure I don’t completely lose my mind. The concern in his eyes betrays his stoic exterior. And, to be honest, I’m as shocked as anyone that I haven’t already. The past few days have been a whirlwind of emotions, and I’ve barely had time to process everything that’s happened.
“Good,” I say, trying to sound indifferent, masking the turmoil churning inside me. “And Vance?” Just uttering that name sends a wave of anger crashing through me. Memories of betrayal and deceit flood my mind, each one sharper than the last. I’ve barely allowed myself to think about that traitorous bastard, and even now, his name leaves a bitter taste on my tongue.
“Last time I checked, he was still alive—barely,” my brother responds, a sinister smirk creeping across his lips. “He’s missing a few body parts, but he’s still breathing.”
“I can imagine the men having their fun with him,” I muse, a fleeting smirk tugging at the corners of my lips.
In our world, betrayal isn’t just a slight; it’s a grievous sin that demands to be dealt with utmost seriousness, especially when it comes from within our own ranks. Particularly if it wasn’t just a moment of weakness, but a calculated move to cross this line. Throughout the ranks, the man in my employ knew that retribution would be swift and inevitable. Vance would be an excellent example for actions having consequences, and I was more than happy to have them delivered through the same men who once considered him a trusted confidant.
The men under my command felt an intense, burning desire to deal with one of their own who had crossed this unforgivable line. His treachery had not only jeopardized our operations but had also left their esteemed leader, Oliver, grievously injured. In a tightly-knit organization like ours, loyalty is the cornerstone upon which everything else is built. To betray this sacred trust is to commit the highest form of sacrilege, a transgression that cannot be overlooked or pardoned. The natural response from my men was one of fury and an insatiable thirst for retribution. I saw no reason to deny them this cathartic release. Granting them permission to handle the situation themselves felt not only justified but imperative to maintaining order throughout the ranks. And by the time they were finished, there would be little left of Vance that would need to be disposed of.