Chapter Thirty-five
Ciro
I’ m halfway through a tense meeting with Cito and Franchesco, finalizing security plans for the casino opening in a few days, when Carmela bursts through the doors, panting as though she’d run the entire way. My chair scrapes the floor as I stand up, my expression immediately darkening as I see the look on her face.
Something is very wrong.
“Where is she?” I snap, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade. There are only two things that would make my sister afraid for her life; Father being dead or my wife being in trouble . . . again.
“Vida,” Carmela says between breaths, her face pale and panicked. “She’s gone.”
The words confirm my suspicions and hit me like a gunshot. No matter how much I tried to prepare myself for the worst, I still can’t take it, not when it revolves around her.
“What do you mean she’s gone?” I ask, leaving the meeting room and heading into the main house.
“She . . .” she pauses, seeming to contemplate if she should tell me.
“Fucking speak, Carmela. What did you do?” I roar, letting the last ounce of composure leave my body.
“I promised . . .” she mutters.
In this fucking situation she’s actually daring to keep a promise she made? Fuck the Balleran oath. Fuck it all!
“Fucking speak! Where is my wife?!” I yell, startling her.
“She . . . she went to see Vito,” Carmela stammers, hands shaking as she tries to explain. “I took her there. She told me to wait, but when I went back to check on her, the office was empty. Both of them were.”
“Vito? Why the fuck was she with that mole?!” I ask in disbelief.
Carmela’s eyes shoot wide open in surprise and fear, staring at me like she’s just seen a ghost.
“You knew about Vito’s betrayal?” she asks.
“You underestimate me, sister. I’ve known for weeks, what does that have to do with anything?” I ask, arching my brow as I realize there’s more. But not now, now I have only one priority, only one thing to focus on, only one sole purpose.
My fists clench, the veins in my neck feeling visible as rage coils inside me.
“She . . . she found out about the mole and decided to go all superwoman,” she confesses.
“And you thought it was a good idea to wait until now to tell me? Now she’s fucking missing?”
“I thought she’d be fine! She had a plan and it was going fine,” she tries to explain, none of her words making me feel better about anything. She is lucky she has Mother’s ice blue eyes and she’s the better half of us. I would’ve held her neck till I felt the life leave her fucking lungs if she didn’t!
“Enough.” My voice drops, turning lethal. “Where the fuck did he take her?”
“I don’t know! She didn’t say anything.”
I yank my phone out of my pocket, my hands moving with controlled precision despite the fury burning under my skin. I clench my jaw tight as I open the tracking app, knowing it would come in handy, since my wife’s new hobby is getting into trouble.
“What are you doing?” Carmela asks, her voice trembling as she watches me tap on my phone.
“I put a tracker in her fucking hair clip.” I turn the screen toward her, the blinking dot glowing like a beacon. Deciding to bug all her belongings was the best thing I’ve decided to do in years, and I don’t even have the moment to feel happy about that.
“I’m coming with you,” Carmela says.
The fuck she is!
“Shut up,” I growl, grabbing my gun from the drawer. I stuff it into my holster, moving sharply towards the door.
“Stay here and stay out of fucking trouble! I don’t even get how I’m the troubled child between us.” I roll my eyes as I exit the house, leaving Carmela where she stood with no attempt to argue as she usually does.
I’ve always enjoyed putting her in her place, having the last word, but I can’t even enjoy it this time.
The place reeks of mildew and death. It’s an old, forgotten building, the kind of spot low-life criminals thought made them untouchable.
I park the car a few blocks away, moving silently through the shadows like a predator closing in on its prey. Which in truth, I am. Every sound, every creak of the floorboards under my boots is calculated, making me aware of my surroundings while still ready to jab a motherfucker in his fucking throat.
I pause outside a broken window, peering inside to try and make out what I’m about to head into. Going into a battle blind will only bring Grandfather back to life, and I need that man to stay very fucking dead.
My wife. She’s there.
She sits across from Vito, the fucking bastard who dared betray my family after years of protecting his sorry ass. They sit at a metal table, her body language stiff but eerily composed. Something is up with her, but I can’t see what. His fingers brush her hair as he leans close, whispering something I can’t hear.
That fucking bastard! No one, fucking no one, touches what’s mine. Especially not my fucking wife.
I tighten my grip on my knife, my knuckles white. My chest burns with an uncontrollable urge to act, to rip Vito’s neck off his shoulders, but I wait. My eyes quickly scan the room, and count the men. Once I’m sure I’ve counted all I can, I conclude there’s six men scattered around with their guns visible.
I don’t know what this could be about, but one wrong move, one misstep, and she might as well be dead.
Vito’s laugh grabs my attention again, his hand sliding down Vida’s neck. Just as I’m about to lose my cool because he’s fucking touching her, his voice gets louder.
“I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he finds out we’ve fled,” he says and laughs harder.
We?
“Tell me, girl, what horrible thing did he do to you that made you betray him this way?” he asks and I turn my gaze to Vida.
Betray?
She smiles, and even from here I can see how flimsy her attempt is. The corners of her eyes don’t even wrinkle like they should, her freckle not moving like it does every time she smiles for real. Is it all for show? I can’t even think it through after hearing the word ‘betray’ and him saying she’s ‘fleeing’. She can’t leave me. She won’t. I’d rather die than let her leave me in this fucking world.
One last stroke of Vito’s hand on hers is my last straw. That’s it.
I step into view with my gun drawn.
“Vito,” I call coldly, my voice cutting through the room like a whip.
Everyone freezes.
“Ciro,” he says, his grin faltering as he straightens. “Well, this is unexpected. Get him!”
The second he yells the order, my eyes instantly turn to his men as they dash towards me with their guns raised. Before any of them can even get a shot off, I fire first. The sound of the room erupting into chaos only makes me drown in my usual addiction; a killing spree.
Moving like a machine is a thing I picked up before I turned 10. Moving with a brutal storm of precision and violence is part of my DNA.
The first man doesn’t even have time to pull the trigger before my bullet tears through his skull. Blood splatters across the wall and my body as his body crumples to the ground.
Two more charge at me from the side, screaming like this is some kungfu training session. I duck under their aim, driving my knife into one man’s throat and pulling it out in a single, swift motion. Without registering the warm pour of blood on my skin, I immediately catch the crowbar that the second man swings my way. I pull it with force, using it to knock the gun out of his hand before slamming it into his chest with a sickening crunch. Hearing his ribs crack so loudly, I’m certain his internal bleeding will kill him in a few minutes.
The fourth man tackles me from behind, slamming me into a rusted metal beam. I grunt at the pain and the annoyance that he’s taken me by surprise, but I don’t dwell on it long before I twist out of his grip and slam my elbow into his face. The crack of bone echoes as the man drops, clutching his shattered and bleeding nose.
I quickly take out my gun, towering over the man as I pull the trigger. One shot to his chest for being unnecessarily fast, and the other to his face for touching me when I clearly belong to the woman who is busy betraying me.
Turning to find said woman, I spot Vito already halfway to the exit, dragging Vida with him.
“Vida!” I roar, my voice shaking the walls.
The two men left block my path, aiming their guns at me.
I smirk, pulling the trigger and shooting the man on the left. Before the second man can even take another breath, he is dead as fuck on the ground as well.
I stare at Vito as he holds my wife and can feel the devil take control again as I spot Vida pinned against the wall.
“Let her go,” I growl, my voice colder than death itself.
Vito smirks, his hand trailing down Vida’s face. “She’s not worth it, Ciro. She . . .”
This fucking man is talking too much!
My bullet hits his shoulder, cutting him off mid-sentence. He screams like a fool, releasing Vida as he stumbles backward, leaving through the door before I put another bullet in him and end him for good.
I turn my gaze to Vida, too tired to run after him when she’s still here, finding a blank expression on her face. I hate how she seems so unfazed by this side of me, the side where I take lives like I’m making breakfast. I hate how she accepts the devil that lives inside me. I hate it so much I love it.
“What . . .” I pause, not even knowing what the right question is.
“I can explain,” she whispers, her voice beginning to shake.
I stare at her for a long moment, my chest heaving. I hate how good she looks in this green dress and how her thighs look perfect in her transparent tights. I hate how long her hair is right now with it styled like this, and how the clip holds part of it neatly.
Jesus fucking Christ! I hate this woman for ever talking to Vito, for thinking of betraying me, and for daring to leave me. I could let her betray me a million times over, but I would rather lay in the grave with the devil himself than watch her leave me. I hate her so much for even wanting to live in a world where I didn’t exist!
“I hate you,” I say through gritted teeth, wishing she knew why I hated her, but wanting the words to hurt her more. Just as she’s done to me.
I watch her flinch, but she says nothing. She doesn’t even bother to explain, doesn’t even care enough to make all of this make sense.
Fuck her!
“Go home,” I order, turning away from her.
All I want is to hold her and take her with me, but I’ll be damned if I let another man’s blood touch her perfect skin.
“Ciro,” she calls, her voice desperate.
What does she fucking have to say right now?
“Now!” I yell, continuing my walk away from her. I can’t turn and look into her brown eyes, the very same pair of eyes that now invade my dreams, days, thoughts, and fucking shower times. I can’t do it. I can’t turn because I’m afraid I’ll take her lips with mine and beg her not to leave me.