Chapter Thirteen
Vida
“S tay here babe, I’ll be right back,” Adam instructs.
“But you should wait for backup. You have no idea how many people are in there, and you could get hurt,” I say, trying to reason with him.
“I’m not going to do anything stupid, just an in and out. Plus I need to know what it looks like in there before calling for backup. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it. Just don’t leave the car,” he adds before kissing my lips and forehead.
Adam had his stubborn moments, but that came from being a cop. Dad and Luca are just the same, too, so I give him a nod and watch him leave the car. His hand presses against his gun; cop mode activated.
5 minutes pass and he still isn’t back yet, and worry takes over me with each passing second. He said to stay in the car, which was becoming even harder every minute.
“Fuck this,” I mutter, picking up his radio and calling for backup.
“Vida? Is that you?” Charles asks from the other end.
Thank God it was someone I knew, but then again, I knew the whole police department after all these years.
“Charles, I need backup! Adam found Raphael and . . .”
“Raphael, Raphael?” he cuts in, the gravity of that one name coming through in his voice.
“Yes and he went after him and I . . .”
“Where are you? We’re heading over now,” he asks, his siren loudly ringing in the background.
Knowing that backup is on its way, my nerves can’t stay calm. Something about how Charles had said his name, like he was the devil, only made me scared.
I’m going in, I decide, unbuckling my seat belt and removing my heels. If I was going to enter some kind of battle, I wouldn’t be needing them anyway, plus I can’t afford to be seen or heard.
“I’m warning you! Drop the weapon or I will shoot,” Adam yells.
I watch as he points his gun at Raphael, his hands steady, ready to pull the trigger. Yet, he doesn’t. He has a clean shot, but he doesn’t take it.
Raphael smiles, an even grin across his face as he looks over Adam’s shoulder, his stormy eyes trained solely on me.
“Company,” he says.
Fuck me! So much for not being seen.
“Vee?” Adam calls, barely taking his eyes off of Raphael long enough to turn and look at me.
“Let’s go, Adam, please,” I plead. Everything about this moment feels wrong, familiar, and very much wrong.
“Listen to her, rule keeper, she sounds smarter than you,” Raphael taunts.
He’s wrong, Adam is smarter than I am. He is a smart man, always thinking through everything and doing his research, and that made him a very smart cop.
“Please babe, please let’s go,” I beg.
Why does this feel so familiar? Why does this moment make me so scared? I want to leave. I want us to get out of here.
“Let’s play a game then, rule keeper,” he chuckles, pointing a gun I hadn’t noticed at Adam.
“My life or hers?” he asks with a smug smile on his lips.
“Drop your weapon!” Adam yells.
“The villain or the innocent, who would you sacrifice?” I ask.
Why? Why am I holding Raphael’s gun? Why am I pointing it at Adam? What the hell is happening?
“Babe no, drop the gun, please,” Adam begs, his gun still pointed at Raphael . . . at me.
“Tick tock, rule keeper,” I say, repeating Raphael’s words.
I’d never say those things, they aren’t my words. I just wanted us to leave and forget about all of this, but I have no say. It’s like Raphael is taking over, he is me and I am him, and deep down I know the end of this story. I’ve lived this nightmare over and over a million times, and I know what will happen next.
“Vida no!” Adam shouts, his yell muffled by the sound of the bang. A bang that came from my gun. A bang that I had triggered.
I watch as he falls to the ground, yet I still can’t move. I watch him lay there, bleeding and alone as he leaves me forever.
“Adam, babe? Adam, please wake up,” I cry and beg, still unable to move and go to him.
As I watch the backup swarm in, I see him! He’s a different figure than the ones usually in this reoccurring nightmare, but he just stands there, watching me. He’s not in a suit or fancy clothes like I’m used to seeing him in, no, this time he stands before me in sweatpants and a t-shirt. His arms are crossed as he leans against the wall, just staring.
I follow his gaze to wear Adam’s body lay, surrounded by a pool of blood all around him.
“Why?” Adam whispers.
The image of a dead man talking shoots me out of my sleep, panting and terrified with a feeling heavy in my chest that I had become accustomed to; guilt.
As I sit on my bed, sweating and crying, I look to the door that separates my room from Ciro’s, and all I can wonder is why I had seen him in my sleep. It’s been a dream that has haunted me for months, so why was he there?
“Rough night?” Izzy asks as she walks into my room. I’m sure I must look like a mess if she’s asking me that.
“Sorta.” I smile as genuinely as I can, rubbing my face with my palms. It was more than rough, but they are leaving today and I don’t want Izzy worrying about me.
“So, new tattoos huh?” she smiles, referring to what Carmela had told us about the other day.
When Carmela had talked about the family initiation, I almost fainted. I couldn’t understand why they had to put a scorpion tattoo on me. She assured me it was a family thing and that everyone had one, and even though I didn’t like the thought of getting a tattoo, I’m a Ballera now, which means being stabbed with a sharp needle over and over as someone paints a scorpion on my freaking body.
“I thought my first tattoo would be a book or some fictional man’s name,” I joke, picking up some shorts from my wardrobe.
I wish Carmela had told me earlier about getting me a white wardrobe and a walk-in closet full of clothes. I wouldn’t have bothered Lisa with helping me pack.
“You mean a dick from a fiction novel?” she asks, arching her brow at me and smirking.
“No! Why would I . . .? Wait, why am I even answering that?” I laugh. “Are they ready?”
“Our parents are always ready, but it’s your wedding night, so they assumed you were still in bed,” she replies.
“But they realize I’m not sharing a room with him, right?” I ask. They have to realize we wouldn’t be sharing a room. They can’t be that blind to the hate between us, can they?
“No! I didn’t mean it like that,” she laughs, shaking her head, “I mean in bed cause it was a long day yesterday and you must’ve been tired.”
Why had I even thought that? That my parents were assuming I was busy . . . eww. I’m so not going there.
“Ready?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Put on some shoes, girl” Izzy instructs, giggling as she looks down at my bare feet. It is an instruction I’m all too familiar with. There is freedom in being barefoot and these humans never seemed to understand that.
I hurriedly walk around my bed and put on my flip-flops before following Izzy out of my room. It is just as big as Ciro’s, and for a second I glance at his door, wondering if he was up yet. After the nightmare, I had not been able to get back to sleep, but a part of me wondered if he had gotten some rest after the Donato fiasco. I had not even thanked him yet, and that was the only reason I thought about him.
“ Mija ,” Dad calls as we descend the stairs.
“Good morning, Daddy,” I greet, hugging him before turning to Mom.
“My dear,” she smiles at me before hugging me too.
Last week, I was mad at them for all of this, but now, I knew better.
“I wish you could stay, at least for the initiation,” I pout.
“When you call it that, it sounds like you’re joining a cult, dear,” Mom whispers, making me laugh.
“Maybe I am,” I reply with a shrug.
“Your sister has to go get ready for her new job and we have to get back to work,” Dad explains, and though I keep reminding myself of that, I still wish they could stay.
“I’ll miss you guys,” I tell them, trying not to start crying.
“Oh, my darling. You’re in our heart and God is with you,” Mom says, cupping my cheek.
God. He wasn’t with me when I needed him, why would he be with me now?
“You guys are all packed and ready,” Luca says, walking towards them.
“Aren’t you?” Dad asks.
“Been ready all morning,” he laughs, punching Dad in the arm and then dodging Dad’s attempt at hitting him back. Goodness, these grown-up men.
“There’s a slight change of plans,” he begins, “Carmela had to take Father to the hospital, so he can’t see us off.”
“Oh dear! Is he alright?” Mom asks, everyone turning to Luca as we wait anxiously for his reply.
“Yes, of course. All the stress from the wedding wore him down a bit, so it’s just a simple check-up,” he replies.
“So who’s going to take us to the airport?” Izzy asks, looking at me before looking back at him.
“He’s in the car, probably been there waiting for a while. Let’s go,” Luca instructs. If I had to guess, I’d say it will be Cito. He’s a good listener, so the drive won’t be too bad.
All of my thoughts fall to the floor though as I climb into the car and see who is in the driver’s seat.
I had tried so hard not to cry, but watching them get on that plane broke me. I didn’t care if Ciro saw me cry or not, I let my eyes fill with tears as I waved them goodbye. They were all I knew, the places and pieces of a life I had once wanted, and now they are gone. I’m now alone in a world I didn’t know, with people I barely know, and a husband I don’t want to be around.
As Ciro drives, the only sound that fills the air is my sniffling.
“Can you keep it down,” he finally says, clearly hating listening to me cry.
“Yeah,” I whisper, looking out the window, angry at myself for still crying in front of him.
“Crying won’t bring them back,” he continues.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I mutter, trying to clean my tears from my cheeks.
“Emotions cloud judgment,” he says deadpan “Do well to remember that.”
What is this dude on about? This is the second time he’s said this to me and I still don’t understand why.
“That might be your mantra or whatever, but telling it to me over and over again doesn’t mean I care,” I retort.
Wasn’t I supposed to be thanking him for what he did yesterday? But then how can I when he is a total prick?
“You’ll care, one way or the other,” he says, eyes staying on the road as he drives.
“Just take me home.”
Home. Was that place a home? Could I even feel at home there? Carmela and Matteo have been the only ones to try to make me feel comfortable, but am I there yet? Do I even have a choice?
“Clean your face and buckle up, we’re being followed,” he orders, staring at the rearview mirror.
“What?” I ask, turning around. Panic takes over my sadness as I spot the black car behind us. “Why do you think he’s following us? It’s probably trying to overtake or something.”
“Like I said, emotions cloud judgment. If you were paying attention instead of filling your face with snot, you’d have noticed it since we left the villa,” Ciro says, taking the next turn.
“I wasn’t . . .” I start but pause. This isn’t the time for going back and forth with him, and even if it was, I don’t have the strength to deal with him right now.
“What do we do?” I ask, looking at the car from my side mirror.
“We?” he asks, cocking a brow at me when I look back at him.
“Yes, we! Do you think I want to get killed . . . or whatever they want to do?” I ask, cocking a brow of my own at him.
“YOU will do nothing. I will take care of this,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument, not that I pay any attention to it.
“You’re the dense one if you think I’d sit back and do nothing,” I state. I’m done sitting and doing nothing! I hate that people see me as the type of girl who would do that. I will be listened to, dammit! “You will not tell me to sit and wait!”
“I didn’t . . . fine!” he answers, sounding exasperated with me. “Stretch under your seat and take out the gun. I’m guessing you’re familiar with how they work?”
“A gun? In broad daylight light? That’s stupid!” I shoot back, wondering why he’d even suggest that.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re worried about the time of the day?” he snaps, finally showing some kind of emotion on his face.
“No,” I mutter, doing as I’m told. “Why can’t we just go home? Whoever it is wouldn’t you follow home, right?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he asks with a grin before taking a turn that looks to lead to some kind of warehouse.
“Where are we?” I ask, looking around.
“You ask a lot of questions. Just shut up and stay here,” he says as he puts the car in park.
“I said . . .”
“You’re not waiting, you’re going to let me know when whoever is driving enters that container over there,” he says as he points at the black container ahead of us.
“But how will I let you know? And what if they check the car first?” I ask, my mind racing with questions. My body is on the brink of going into fight or flight mode and it doesn’t know whether to stay and listen to him or go.
“First, you have a loaded gun, if anyone walks towards the car, shoot them before they get any closer,” he says, looking into the rearview mirror again.
“Second?” I ask after trying to swallow past the lump of fear in my throat.
“No one will dare hurt you when I’m alive. So they’ll have to kill me first,” he says like it’s no big deal. “Now, stay here and make sure the safety is off.”
By the time I look up from switching off the safety, he’s out of the car and walking towards the container. As I watch him walk, I can almost understand why he’d say they would follow him first. The car isn’t as visible as I’d thought. If the person following us was stupid, the container would be the first place to check.
As my thoughts spiral and my heart begins to race, I notice the black car park and a man step out. I quickly duck, making sure I can’t be seen. I peek out and watch as he looks around the warehouse before turning to face the black container. Just like Ciro said he would, he begins to head towards it.
“Shit!” I curse, realizing Ciro hadn’t actually told me how to let him know when the person began to head towards the container.
I begin to search around the car, not exactly sure what I’m looking for. After failing to find anything to help, I decide to do the only thing I can think to do, even if it is the dumbest idea I’ve ever had.
The sound of the car horn fills the air as I press it, and I don’t dare look up to see if the man has turned and started heading towards me. Instead I stay hidden with the gun gripped tightly in front of me.
The seconds drag by with the racing beat of my heart and the ringing in my ears, and I have no idea how long it’s been. Five minutes? Ten? A few seconds? Time seems to be insignificant when you’re afraid for your life. I’m dying to know what is happening, I hate feeling like I’m not in control, but I can’t move. My body is frozen in place and I couldn’t even get out of the car even if I tried. I can’t call for backup and wouldn’t know the first thing to do if I were to go and try to help him, so I keep myself tucked away and stay in the car as memories from last time flash through my mind.
Ciro will be fine, right? He is the next mafia don, he should know how to handle himself. He’s a big boy, he’ll be okay. I tell myself that over and over to try to keep calm.
Footsteps! The sound of shoes pounding against the concrete inside the warehouse fills the silence, making my heart race harder and my hands shake. The fear coursing through me has me too scared to look up and pull the trigger. If it was someone who was sent to kill me, he wouldn’t waste his time on me, right? Ciro said they wouldn’t hurt me unless he was dead, but what if he is? What if, like Adam, he is there, lying on the cold ground and now it is my turn to join them? The next few seconds will come to my life or his. Could I let this be it? No, I can’t, I won’t let one of Donato’s henchmen kill me. I didn’t leave everything I knew behind just to die like this.
With that thought in my head, I ready myself as the door opens. I shoot, pointing the gun at the familiar stranger who stands there with blood covering his face and clothes, barely missing him.
“Didn’t I say to shoot before they get any closer?” Ciro asks, his dark brow cocked at me.
Relief washes over me as I see him. The urge to jump at him and hug him, to thank him for not dying and for coming back alive nearly wins, but I stop myself.
“Are you hurt?” I ask instead.
“Not mine,” he says as he gets into the car and starts the engine.
What did he do to get himself covered in blood like that?
The drive back is silent. My body is still buzzing with adrenaline after all of that and I have no idea what to do or say. The car smells like blood, which just adds to the mess in my brain. I want to know what happened in that container, what he did to that man, who he was, and why he was following us, but I haven’t been able to mutter a single word.
“You have a question, ask it,” Ciro says, almost like he’s been reading my mind this whole time.
“I don’t,” I lie, the words coming out of me before I can stop them. I have a lot of questions, I just don’t know where to start or how to really talk to him when every interaction we’ve had has been exasperating.
“Ok,” I sigh, “who was that man?”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
“It isn’t, not to me at least. You’re in the mafia, a lot of people could be trying to kill you.”
“A friend of yours,” he replies, not saying anything else.
“We aren’t friends,” I mutter.
“Next question.”
“Did you kill him?”
“If I did, would that make me bad?”
Is that a rhetorical question?
“I just want to know if you did,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
“He won’t be driving or walking anytime soon,” he replies, his voice unwavering.
“Good,” I whisper.
Good what though? Good he had disabled a man or good he wasn’t dead? I knew the answer to that deep down, but it is one I can’t believe I’d ever think.
“Good he’s not dead?”
He’s a mind reader, isn’t he?
“Yes,” I lie.
There is more to why I’d said it was good, more to why I felt almost satisfied that Ciro had done what he’d done, to why I wasn’t even close to being scared of the man next to me or disgusted that he was driving with blood on his face and clothes, and it certainly wasn’t because he wasn’t dead.