Chapter Fifty-Three Larissa
Chapter Fifty-Three
LARISSA
IPRESS THE BARREL of my gun menacingly into Enzo’s forehead just as he slowly kneels at my feet.
As have all of them, one by one, in a pledge of allegiance since I started my interrogation.
Infuriatingly, I’m no closer than when I started hours ago.
Collecting myself minutes after that bottle shattered, determined to find those responsible.
Tula is actively on her own rampage, vetting everyone, including veteran house staff.
Tyler and Alonzo are somewhere on the grounds, no doubt on their own missions to get to the bottom of this.
All of us divided for the same purpose, knowing none of us will sleep until this is resolved, because somewhere in this villa—amongst our most trusted—is a fucking traitor.
This guard, one of the few who have ties to Ciro, might be foolish enough to have some lingering, misplaced allegiance, or could be using my father’s death by my hand as an excuse.
Truth being, all those gunning for my position will seize on any opportunity that makes me look weak until eventually a shift in power is demanded.
A motive that helps narrow the list of suspects.
Several of whom are lieutenants we handpicked for private security, which only enrages me further.
This traitor is aware of Ciro’s tradition of giving his bride her annual bottle of Chanel on Christmas Day.
Possibly mindful of the humiliation the gift might cause me.
Though the latter seems unlikely. Only those present in the woods that day were aware of what transpired for me personally.
Either way, the agenda remains the same—this enemy wanted to make itself known.
What I withheld from Tyler last night was that I’ve already put a bullet in the heads of two men idiotic enough to challenge me.
Taking both down in a messy way, and in the right company to send a message.
One which apparently wasn’t clear. And the fact that my home no longer feels safe—especially for my children—has me determined to rectify that.
Between the questionable motive and Tula’s standing rule against cameras inside the house, pinpointing who and why has proven difficult.
Even if Tommaso is reviewing weeks of perimeter footage up to this morning, the infuriating truth is that practically anyone could have slipped in with that small bag, so easily concealed.
And of course, our own fucking guards are never searched, which makes this hunt equivalent to finding a needle in a haystack.
A needle I’m determined to eradicate as I glare at the man kneeling before me.
“Tuo padre era amico di Ciro, no?” Your father was friends with Ciro, was he not?
“Mio padre fu molte cose che io non sarò mai.” My father was many things that I will never be.
“The father of my children can detect lies,” I state.
“He’s very good at it, but I can read a man’s intent just as easily.
Which makes my gift just as valuable. I believe you think of yourself as a good and loyal man, but this is a question of allegiance.
Of which house you truly serve. Tommaso tells me you’ve been here for five summers. ”
He nods.
“And before that?”
“Ho vissuto per strada.” I lived on the streets.
“Why?”
“Per fuggire da mio padre.” To escape my father.
“Only to turn around and join the mob,” I snap. “Was your father also not a lieutenant?”
“Tula is change.” He struggles through his English translation. “I respect for her.”
“That doesn’t mean you respect me,” I hiss, bending to issue my threat. “You have the blood, Enzo, and you’ve just been promoted, do you think I’m not aware of any man who stands to gain my place?”
“No, donna.”
“Do you think I won’t kill every single fucking one of you and replace you with more loyal men to keep my family safe? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t start now.”
“My allegiance is to you, donna,” he vows. “I will help you hunt him.”
“I don’t need your fucking help.” I press in again, tilting his head back.
“You’ve already failed me.” When I fire my gun next to his ear, though he conceals his flinch, his face reddens in restraint.
I hold his eyes as I call one of my guards.
“Feed him and then lock him up.” I keep my murderous gaze on Enzo.
“And because you failed me, you’ll regain your freedom when I do. ”
“Sì, donna.”
Enzo doesn’t struggle as he’s escorted away, and I turn back to Daniello and Alessio, the only two I trusted enough to be in attendance during each interrogation. Daniello’s expertise is invaluable, though he hasn’t been able to pinpoint anything of significance so far.
“That’s everyone?” I ask.
Alessio nods, and my anger builds, the tick of the clock since I opened that box growing louder as I stalk toward the villa and they fall into step next to me. Daniello sensing my growing fury.
“We will find him,” he assures.
“I want his head, now, cousin,” I hiss, mind racing with possibilities. “Any report from Tyler’s detail?” I speak of the service he’s had parked here for endless months.
“They are looking,” he states as my suspicions continually direct me back toward the most obvious, which has me deciding to seek Tyler out for an overdue conversation.
Our personal drama has prevented us from having a more in-depth discussion about Antony.
But we no longer have time to waste. Though he’s been quiet for long months, what happened today is starting to reek of him.
Not only that, but when we were younger, Antony had been present a few times at Ciro’s during the holidays.
Forever observant as he is, I have no doubt he didn’t miss a thing.
Especially since Ciro boasted so fucking freely about the gifts he showered his bride with, and since I’m still unsure how often Antony was at the mansion during my extended absence.
That, along with the mysterious nature of his connection to my father, is intriguing.
The fact that Ciro betrothed me to him is telling in that they had laid plans.
That gnaw increases with the knowledge that there’s something vital I haven’t placed.
The only others at that house who were true constants were me, Alonzo, and …
I whip my head around the courtyard as we approach, scanning the grounds as I rush out my question to Alessio. “Dov’è l’Ignazio?” Where is Ignacio?
“è rinchiuso nella sua stanza, donna.” Locked in his room, donna.
“What is it?” Daniello prompts as I start at a dead run toward the villa, both on my heels as I shout my orders.
“Alessio! Get Tyler and Alonzo and tell them to find me in the east wing!” Alessio instantly shifts directions as I task Daniello. “Go get Alexander and Macey! Keep them with you, only with you!”
When he hesitates to leave me, I wave him away. “We don’t have time to argue, cousin, go!”
Trusting my instincts, Daniello shifts direction without any more argument as I race toward Iggy and my mother’s wing. My heart pounding in time with my foot falls as my adrenaline spikes with fear, which only ramps when I skid to a stop outside Iggy’s door … to see it open and empty.
“Iggy!” I scream at the top of my lungs, flying down the hall toward my mother’s room. Suspicions continually rising that the gift was not a threat for me, but rather a declaration of war against an absentee parent.
“No!” I shout, heart thrashing in my chest as I reach my mother’s suite to see that her door is also open, the entrance to her room shrouded in pitch dark.
Canting my head for any sound, when I hear none, I brace myself against the fear I’m already too late.
When I step inside, flipping the switch, and no light comes, I sink where I stand.
It’s the worry for my mother that fuels me farther in.
Each step becomes more weighted with dread as I force myself forward.
Gun still in hand, finger ready on the trigger, I hasten my feet.
Eyes adjusting to the lack of light just as I clear the entryway … I freeze at the sight that greets me.
My eyes bolt to my brother, who stands covered in shadow behind the bed separating us.
The endless strands of Christmas lights outside illuminating his profile in a deep crimson red.
The same red which glints now off the straight razor clutched in his hand.
His intended victim is sitting feet away in her wheelchair, rambling rapid, unintelligible Italian.
Iggy’s eyes and attention are fixed on the dark corner of the room, to my right.
“I’m already here,” Tyler announces from those shadows, his outline barely definable as his assuring tone briefly blankets me in relief. Confident he’s beside me, my eyes flit back to my brother as my heart refuses to believe what’s becoming clearer.
“Iggy, what the fuck are you doing?”
When his eyes finally float over to me, inside them I see nothing but accusation and loathing, which obliterate any last remnants of hope.
“No, sister,” he hurls like a weapon. “What have you done?” He turns and glares in my mother’s direction.
“You came to free me, but still care for the woman who allowed him to get away with so much.” His scathing judgment sears me as he continually condemns me. “While fucking the man who killed Roc!”
“W-who—who told you that? It’s not true.”
“The truth!?” he screeches. “None of you told me any of the fucking truth!”
“We were waiting for you to heal. Roc … was sick, he was becoming like Ciro, hurting people. He had to be put down.”
“You all tell me I’m sick, am I next?”
“God no, of course not.”
“And I should believe you? You put a bullet in his head only to take his place, donna,” he spits. “You’re no better than him!”
My eyes water as I stare at the remains of the little boy I was forced to abandon in a madman’s hands as Tyler’s whisper breaks through.
“Larissa, baby, lower your gun.” It’s then that I realize I’ve got Ignacio in my crosshairs, my finger on the trigger.
“Yeah, baby,” Ignacio mimics. “Or will you reward your lover for killing another brother?”
“Who told you this?” Tyler probes evenly, his voice drawing near as my hand starts to shake, and I grip my weapon more tightly as Ignacio tilts his head menacingly.
“Why? Because none of you wanted me to know the truth? He was right.” He glares between us. “You’re the ones who are sick.”
“You were misinformed, your sister is the one helping you,” Tyler reasons.
“My sister is caring for the woman who allowed my father’s friends to rape my brother!” My heart starts to crack as his eyes drill into mine. “Roc l-loved us! He protected us! He’s the one who deserved your loyalty, your care! He’s the one who deserved to be saved! Not her! Not her!”
“Drop the blade,” Alonzo hisses, emerging from the shadows mere feet from Iggy.
Which tells me they were both waiting for him.
They knew. But how? “Right now,” Alonzo barks, coming into view, expression rippling with fury.
Ignacio blinks in surprise before slamming his palm against the window, reeling in Alonzo’s direction.
“You too?” he snaps bitterly. “You still defend her when she turned her back on you and had another man’s children. Tell me, Zo, has she made you heel yet? Because her next bullet is sure to be for you!”
Alonzo’s face deadens as he inches closer to Ignacio, who again slams his palm against the glass in warning. This time, Mama jumps, darting her eyes around, her frantic whispers increasing.
“Stop, Iggy, you’re scaring her! This isn’t you,” I deny to us both, as I have the day Alonzo and I freed him.
No trace left of the little boy I moved heaven and earth to liberate.
Knowing, from the second he locked eyes with me outside that clinic, that boy was long gone.
“You’re confused, but you can beat this, I know you can! ”
“How would you know anything? You left us there to rot with him!”
“I had to, please believe me, I didn’t want to leave you, he forced me away!”
“Only for you to become him!”
“I did it to protect you!”
“And who will protect me from you!? If you really want to cure this family of sickness, you should put a bullet in your own head!”
I gasp as tears blur my vision, the cracks inside multiplying as Alonzo’s outrage cuts through the air.
“You begged for a different life, for years!” he roars.
“This is the different life I paid for, that she paid to give you, and this is how you repay her?” He takes a step forward, posture lethal with his warning.
“Put the blade down, Ignacio, or I’ll fucking kill you myself.
” Rage seizing him, he begins fearlessly stalking toward my brother, murder in his eyes.
“Get the fuck away from me,” Iggy shrieks just as I’m blocked from view, my gun already plucked and clattering to the floor as Tyler captures me wholly in his iron grip.
A scuffle ensues behind the wall of the man who’s caging me protectively in his embrace, and I begin ferociously fighting him just as his feverish whisper reaches me.
“Don’t fight me, baby, please,” he croaks, pained, “please don’t fight me. ”
My broken screams increase as I fight to no avail, and black begins to dot my vision.
Their names ripping from my soul and throat as fear and grief start to overwhelm me, draining my fight.
The scrape of Tyler’s shirt against my cheek barely registers as my legs give out and he sweeps me into his arms. Racing me out of the room and down the hall as my jagged cries echo off the walls, along with his thundering footfalls.
His murmured words becoming more distant, muted further by the abyss beckoning me with its familiar promise of refuge.
Embracing it, I allow it to sweep me into the numbing void.