Chapter Fifty-nine
Vida
I ’m struggling to catch my breath as I follow Carmela. I had pushed my body so hard today and it is finally hitting me. My legs throb with every step and my hands are trembling as I hold the wall for support. I am done. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.
And I can’t stop thinking of the havoc I left Ciro in.
“Just a little farther,” Carmela urges in a kind but firm tone.
“Cam, please, I can’t,” I gasp, already drenched in sweat.
“Yes, you can,” she snaps. I know it’s not because she’s mad, she’s worried and scared too. “I have to get you to safety, Vida, and I can’t do that without your help.”
She’s right and not just that, it isn’t just about me. I have someone else to protect, someone else to fight for, and I can’t do that like this. If Raphael finds me, he’ll shoot first and leave me bleeding on the ground without a second thought.
Izzy grabs my arm, using herself to support me as much as she can.
“Come on, Vee. We’re almost there,” she urges.
My chest burns as I nod and force my feet to keep moving. After passing two more doors, Carmela stops in front of a thick wooden door and shoves it open. It looks to be a dimly lit study with books that fill the shelves. It smells like old leather and cleaning supplies.
“Sit,” Carmela orders, pointing to a chair by the desk.
I fall into it without hesitation, letting my head fall back as I close my eyes. My pulse pounds in my ears as the events of the evening keep replaying in my mind like a broken record.
The gunshots. The screams. The fear. Raphael. Ciro.
Izzy bends down beside me, placing her trembling palms on mine.
“Are you okay?” she asks with a forced smile.
This isn’t the world she’s used to, and I feel guilty she has to witness this.
“I’m fine,” I lie, sucking in the pain in my legs.
“Breathe, Vida,” Carmela says as she checks the lock on the door. “In and out. We can’t have you passing out now.”
I know she’s trying to make us laugh but breathing is already hard enough.
“We’ll drag her if we have to, she’s carrying our niece, remember?” Izzy jokes.
“Thanks for worrying about me,” I chuckle lightly.
I scan the room around me, wondering who’s study this was. It’s old fashioned and stiff, no paintings or anything that gives a sense of relaxation. But right now, it is safe and that is all that matters.
The faint creak of the second door catches my attention, and before I can react, Carmela is on the intruder. She moves like a wildcat, with her knife shining in the dim light as she stabs the man before he can make a move. He grunts, but still blocks her next strike. That doesn’t stop Carmela though. She doesn’t give him any room to do anything but protect himself from her.
A knee to his gut. A blow to his temple. A slice on his arm making him stumble, giving Carmela enough room to strike. Her knife plunges into his face with a sickening sound.
He falls to the floor, lying lifeless in a pool of his blood.
I stare at Carmela as she towers over the man before checking the lock on the door.
“It’s broken,” she says as she walks to the table to push it.
“I’ll help,” Izzy says, standing to move to help her.
Before I can say a word, I notice movement in the doorway.
“Carmela!” I shout as the man steps into the room, his knife clutched in his hand. I pull the skirt of my dress up quickly, taking out the small gun Carmela had me tuck against my thigh.
I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I fire.
The man staggers back, holding his chest before collapsing.
Silence.
I turn to the girls to find Izzy staring at me with her mouth wide open and her wide eyes moving between me and the man I just shot.
“You . . .” she stammers. “You just . . .”
“She’s a natural,” Carmela says with a laugh. “Damn good shot, Vee.”
I open my mouth to respond, but the words don’t come. The sound of the gun is still ringing in my head and I need a moment to catch my breath.
“I always told you, you have great reflexes,” a voice says. So familiar. So smooth. So haunting.
The air leaves my lungs and my body goes cold. I can feel the blood turn to ice in my veins.
That voice.
It can’t be.
It isn’t possible.
No . . . I’m hearing things. It isn’t real!
But as I turn to the door, I stop hearing the beat of my heart, and I forget how to breathe. It is him. He is standing right in front of me, smirking as if nothing ever happened.
My throat goes dry, and my palms shake for the life of them.
No . . .
It’s all in my head, right?
But as I watch him move closer, the reality of his presence in the room is undeniable.
I turn to Izzy to find the same look of shock and horror on her face, and it is all the confirmation I need.
Adam is really here!
I want to say something, but I can’t speak or even move. I’m barely even breathing as the tears form in my eyes.
“Miss me, babe?” he chuckles darkly.
My hands tremble so violently I can hardly hold onto the chair anymore. All the pain in my body vanishes and I can’t feel anything physically. Every emotion or feeling are those that come from seeing him in front of me again.
I’m paralyzed.
My world is falling apart again. Within seconds, the perfect life I had now went up in flames.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, baby,” he mocks.
“Adam,” I finally say, my lips trembling as his name escapes my mouth. It comes out as a whisper, barely audible for me to hear, but filled with disbelief.
His laughter fills the room as he tilts his head to look at me.
“What?” he asks, his voice filled with mockery. “No happy gesture to see me? No ‘Oh, Adam, I missed you so much’?”
He spreads his arms wide as if he expects me to leap for joy, but I can’t move. My vision turns blurry with tears as the moment dawns on me.
He really is real.
“How?” I finally manage to choke out, my voice cracking. “How are you here? How are you alive? How?”
Adam’s laughter darkens with a bitterness in it that sends chills down to my bones. I watch him as he takes a step closer. He looks pale and ill. His golden hair is now dirty and messy, his eyes are surrounded with dark circles, and his clothes look like they hadn’t been washed in ages. He looks like a ghost.
But . . . but ghosts don’t breathe.
They don’t talk.
And they certainly don’t laugh the way Adam is now.
“I saw you die,” I whisper as I grip the arm of the chair. “I held you as you died. How are you here?”
His bitter laughter stops as his expression turns to fury.
How dare he be mad! How dare he be the one angry! I was the one who has every right to be mad, not him!
He slams his hands onto mine, holding my hands to the armrest of the chair as he leans in until our faces are inches apart. My skin crawls from his touch. His touch that used to feel like heaven, but has now become something that makes me want to bathe for days.
“You ruined me, baby. You fucking ruined everything!” he yells, his saliva splattering against my face as he talks.
I can’t help but cry. I spent months blaming myself for that! For him dying in my hands because I got out of the fucking car. I had nightmares that haunted me night after night because he let me believe he was dead! Now, it feels like it really is my fault. I ruined everything, but fuck him!
“You were supposed to stay in the fucking car!” he shouts. “But no, you had to play the hero, didn’t you? You just couldn’t fucking listen!”
I sob as I shake my head, his words washing over me like acid. The memories of that night flash in my mind. I hold still, remembering his bloodied body, his lifeless face, how I begged him not to leave me and how they pulled me away from him. I saw him die!
“We buried you,” I cry, remembering all of the pain I felt. “I grieved for you! I . . . I died with you, Adam! I lived in hell for months because of you!”
My eyes held his as my voice got louder, my shock turning into anger. His own anger shines through and he slams his fist on the table, the sound echoing through the room before he begins circling me.
“This was supposed to be my break!” he hisses, raking his hands through his filthy hair. “My fucking breakout! And you . . . you ruined it! You ruined me!”
His finger trembles as he points it at me, and I just watch him. I watch as the ghost of the man I once loved says things I can’t believe would ever come out of his mouth.
“I had everything planned,” he continues, pacing around like a lunatic. “I was going to walk away from all of it. Hell, I was even going to ask you to come with me! But no! You couldn’t stay put! You just had to be there, didn’t you?”
“I had to stand trial because of you!” I scream. “I put my family in danger because of you! I put your family in danger because of you! How could you do this?”
I can’t focus on what he’s saying, my mind is stuck on the memories of his death, the endless nights of nightmares, the soul crushing grief, the constant ache of his absence.
“I mourned you, Adam! I was forced into a marriage I didn’t want just to protect our families! What is this? Who are you?”
“Raphael was my meal ticket to the life I wanted, a life where dreams came true and I did everything right! Everything! It was our last meeting we had and all you fucking had to do was sit in the damn car!” he roars.
“Fuck you! Jesus, Adam!” I shake my head, my voice trembling as I sob. “You were dead. I watched you die. I buried you, Adam. I buried you. I had nightmares, I blamed myself. I left everything and everyone to come here . . . to . . .”
“I thought you loved me, baby. I thought it was me and you against the world. But the minute you get a better offer, you spread your fucking legs open for him,” he laughs.
“Don’t you dare!” I stare into his eyes.
This isn’t the man I knew or loved. As I watch him, I begin to wonder if that man ever existed. He grins at me, but it isn’t a smile I remember. It’s a cruel, empty, smile filled with nothing but hate.
“Look at you, princess, you’re different too. What is it? Added some weight?” he laughs. “Could have been us making a baby, if only you didn’t sex starve me. What did you even think? That I wouldn’t get it somewhere else? You really were delusional.”
My chest tightens as his words sink in and the room spins around me. I want to scream, to run, but one thing is for sure, I want to wipe that fucking smirk off this damn lips!
My legs tremble as I stand, even though every inch of me wants to collapse. I can’t stop the tears from falling. They don’t fall because I’m in shock or disbelief, they fall because I’m so angry I can’t think straight.
“Fuck you,” I say bitterly.
Adam just smirks at me, tilting his head like he is watching a child throw a tantrum.
“Awe, don’t cry, baby,” he says mockingly. “You’ll ruin that pretty little face. Although . . .”
His eyes flicker over me, making me feel dirty. God, what happened to him?
“I guess it doesn’t matter. Doesn’t seem like your dear husband will mind. What did he call you? His little chaos?” He chuckles. “How fitting. You’ve been nothing but a disaster since we started dating.”
His words have no effect on me anymore, I’m not going to let him affect me ever again.
I step forward, gripping the gun tighter.
“Shut the fuck up!” I shout.
But he doesn’t stop. His gaze slides down to my stomach, and I can see the disdain in his eyes.
“And this?” he says, gesturing lazily at my bump. “Really, Vida? You really went all out for this fucker, now your carrying his vermin? I thought better of you, baby.”
Something inside me snaps.
“You’re disgusting,” I snarl, my voice cracking as I point the gun directly at him. “I was so fucking stupid to ever think you were a human being.”
Adam raises an eyebrow as he looks at me, the smirk still plastered on his smug face.
“I loved you,” I say, my voice breaking as the tears come out harder, “since I was twelve. I thought you were my everything. I don’t know when or where you turned into this . . . this fucking piece of shit of a person, but the only thing I’ll ever regret in my life is wasting all those years on you.”
Adam takes a step toward me. “Go on then, shoot me, baby. I dare you. But we both know the truth, don’t we? You don’t have it in you to hurt me. You never did.”
The way he leans in and drops in voice is meant to make me break, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t know me. I’ve changed and fuck him for expecting me to just submit and do what he wants after the stuff he pulled!
“You’re some piece of fucking trash,” I whisper as I pulled the trigger.
I watch him drop to the ground as he lets out a groaning scream and clutches his thigh.
“You bitch!” he screams. “You fucking bitch!”
I stand over him, numb with the gun still in my hand, my ears still ringing from the shot. I should feel something, satisfaction, regret? But all I feel is a numbing rage.
“I’ll make sure you die this time fucker”, I say as I pull the trigger again.
No shot. Only the click of the gun. Fuck!
Adam moves quickly, his hand darting inside his jacket. My eyes widen as I see the flash of metal.
“NO!” I scream, but it’s too late.
The gun goes off, the bang filling the air, making me freeze as Carmela staggers backwards, her eyes wide with shock. Her hands fly to her stomach, where blood begins to bloom across her dress like a dark, horrifying flower, taunting her blue silky dress.
“No,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “No, no, no.”
I cry as I watch Izzy hold her as she falls, my lungs seizing and my heart stopping as tears blur my eyes. She drops to the floor, with her hand clutching her stomach as blood pours between her fingers.
“Cam!” Izzy cries as she shakes her.
My head snaps to Adam, who is crawling toward the door, dragging his bloodied leg behind him.
I let out a scream and jump for the knife Carmela dropped after killing the man. The world around me blurs as I throw myself on him with the blade in my hand.
“You bastard!” I shout, stabbing him in the shoulder. He screams, but I don’t stop.
“You fucking pig!” I scream again, plunging the knife into his arm. “I hate you! I fucking hate you!”
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And fuck, am I scorned.
I don’t just want him to feel pain, I want him to feel the kind of hell that burns through his soul, the kind that leaves scars. He ruined me. He broke me. And now, I’m going to return the favor.
His fist swings wildly, landing a punch to my stomach. The impact sends me sprawling to the ground, the knife clattering out of my hand.
As I try to get to it, he picks it up before I can and with one fling, he drives it into my stomach, making me yell in pain. I kick him with every ounce of force in me before stretching to pick up his gun and without wasting a second, I point the gun at his head and pull the trigger.
Pain shoots through my body as I struggle to breathe. My vision becomes blurry as I hear heavy footsteps pounding toward me.
“Vida!” Ciro yells, his voice filled with panic. He and Franchesco appear, their faces pale with fear.
Ciro drops to his knees, pulling me into his arms as his hand cups my face, his voice cracking as he pleads, “Stay with me, chaos. Please, stay with me.”
I fight to stay awake, my gaze drifting to the table where Carmela is.
“No,” I whisper, trying to crawl toward her. “Carmela . . . please. Please . . .”
I need to get to her. She needs help. There’s so much blood.
“Please, please, please, please, please,” I cry, trying to get to her. I can’t lose her, I can’t lose a sister to Adam. Of all things . . . I just can’t.
“Please, Vida. Don’t leave me. Fuck! Stay with me, chaos. Please. I beg you,” I hear Ciro cry as I stop fighting the pain and let go, letting the darkness take over.
Hell.
That’s where I am as I wake up. Not because of the sterile smell of antiseptic or the beeping coming from the monitors, but because of the emptiness that swallows me whole before I even open my eyes.
I blink as the white fluorescent lights make my headache with its brightness. The world comes into focus slowly, from white walls, an IV pole, machines beeping and . . . him.
My husband.
He’s slumped forward with his head resting against my hand while his fingers wrap themselves tightly around mine. His shoulders rise and fall in slow, even breaths, but even asleep, he looks drained.
“Baby . . .” My voice cracks.
He shoots up, his bloodshot eyes wide with relief.
“My chaos,” he breathes, his voice trembling as he cups my face with both hands.
“Oh, baby,” he adds before planting kisses everywhere he can reach. From my forehead, my cheeks, my lips, my eyes, everywhere. His lips feel warm but they still tremble, like he has barely been holding himself together.
“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs against my skin.
I manage to shoot him a weak smile, as I try hard not to cry.
“I’m okay,” I whisper dryly.
Ciro finally pulls back, brushing a strand of hair from my face. He looks awful. His eyes are red, his skin is pale, and the dark circles beneath his eyes make it clear he hasn’t slept or has been crying.
“How long?” I ask, looking at the tubes and needles sticking out of my arm.
“Two days,” he says calmly. “You’ve been out for two days.”
Two days.
I glance around the room again, taking a deep breath as I let myself remember the events of two days ago. It’s then that panic swells in my chest as I remember.
“Carmela!” Her name tears from my lips as I grip Ciro’s hand tightly. “Ciro, where’s Carmela? Is she okay? Please, tell me she’s okay.”
Ciro smiles at me as he leans closer.
“She’s fine, baby,” he assures me. “She’s okay. She made it through surgery and she’s stable. I promise.”
I sigh in relief as I let myself smile in gladness. She’s okay, I’m okay, we’ll all be okay. But my joy doesn’t last. If she is fine, why does he look like this?
“Then why?” I turn to him.
His expression changes, like the walls he had tried to build up crumble away as my question floats in the air. Something is wrong.
“Why do you look like that?” I demand. “What happened, Ciro? Why have you been crying?”
His mouth opens, but . . . nothing.
I wait. I can hear my heart pounding harder by the second as I watch him, studying how his jaw clenches and the way his hands keep rubbing against each other.
And then I feel it.
Or rather, I don’t feel it.
My hand moves instinctively to my stomach, trembling as I press against it.
Nothing.
I freeze as my breath catches in my throat as the realization hits me.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”
“Vida . . .” he calls.
“NO!” I scream, tears blinding me as I shove at his chest, fighting his arms as he tries to pull me close. “OH GOD! NO! Tell me it’s not true! Tell me, please!”
I cry harder, but he doesn’t say anything. He just holds me tighter, his silence crushing me more than any words ever could. My sobs tear through the room as I shake my head over and over. “I can’t, I can’t! God no, Ciro, our baby! No, please!”
“Baby, please,” he murmurs, his voice breaking as his arms hold me close.
But I can’t stop. I can’t stop screaming, crying, begging for it not to be real. I hit his chest, pounding my fists against him, until finally, I have nothing left. The fight drains out of me, leaving only emptiness.
“Our baby,” I whisper as I slump against him, our bodies trembling as we cling to each other.
His hot tears mingle with mine as he whispers over and over, “I’m so sorry, chaos. I’m so, so sorry.”
Why is he sorry? I lost it. I did. I should be the one sorry! I couldn’t protect it. I failed it.
I bury my face in his chest as I let the sound of his heart fill my ears, allowing myself to drown in the weight of our grief.
We’ve lost our child.