Chapter Thirty-seven
Alessia
Rodion promised to take me home, and he kept his word.
The car slid down the familiar streets where I grew up.
Memories pressed in, and it all felt unreal after all this time.
We passed St. Leontius Chapel, its stone spire shadowing the road.
My gaze caught the white statue of Mary standing in the courtyard, her hands open in silent blessing.
Her eyes followed me, and a shiver swept over my arms. That chapel meant we were close to home.
My fingers locked around the seatbelt while my gaze clung to the window.
Rodion drove silently, as if he understood I needed the time to wrestle with my thoughts.
The car eased to a stop outside my house.
It didn’t rattle me to see that he knew the place.
My stomach knotted as I stared at the peeling gray gate.
The cracked stone wall still leaned the same familiar way.
I once prayed to vanish from here because of my parents.
But now, against all odds, I ached to step inside.
Nothing had changed. The neighbors’ houses were still as I remembered them. I could almost feel the weight of their eyes behind the curtains, already peering out to see who had pulled up to our gate.
“Should we go back?” Rodion’s voice was low, but it caught me off guard. I faced him. His hand rested on the wheel, his eyes pinned on me.
A soft laugh slipped from my throat as I unbuckled. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
The corner of his mouth curved. He tipped his chin toward the house. “The dog’s already barking for you.”
Vivo’s little barks carried through the door, sharp and impatient. He had always been quick to sense visitors, scratching and howling as though the world was ending. I was even surprised he hadn’t figured out how to open the door by now.
My body shifted, a hesitation pressing me against the seat. I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or resentment.
“You alright?” Rodion asked.
I let out a slow breath. “I’m about to hear that I have a half-brother.”
“If he looks like you, maybe he’s the one who should be nervous.”
That drew a genuine laugh from me, easing the weight inside. I nodded. “Alright then.” My hand settled on the door. “You said I can’t stay here tonight?”
“No.”
I swallowed the truth with a slight nod.
“Okay.” My fingers closed around the handle again.
“I’m off, then.” I stepped out and made my way to the gate.
The hinges groaned as I unlatched it, a rusty protest that scraped through the area.
Vivo’s bark pitched higher, claws raking against the door in frantic rhythm.
By the time I reached the porch, his bark had shifted to that low groan he saved for people he loved, playful and insistent. My chest softened. He knew I was here. I knocked once, then turned. Rodion had stepped out and leaned against the car. He was busy on his phone.
The door opened, and Mamma appeared, blinking as if I were a ghost on her threshold. I smiled, but Vivo threw himself at me before I could speak, paws scrambling, tongue dragging across my cheek.
“Hey, boy.” I crouched low, arms circling him tight, rubbing the familiar warmth of his sides. He licked me, making up for the days without my presence. “I missed you too.”
Mamma’s voice cut through, wary. “How are you here?”
I didn’t rise. My hand stayed on Vivo’s head as I looked up at her. “Surprise.”
Her face didn’t break into joy. There was no anger either. She was caught between words. Her gaze slid past me to Rodion by the car, and a sharp gasp slipped out.
“Come in,” she said quickly, stepping aside.
I glanced back. Rodion had lifted his eyes to mine. For a moment, he held the stare, then dropped it back to his phone.
Mamma still held the door open, but the only creature truly glad to have me home was Vivo. He lunged at my legs with his clumsy joy, nearly knocking me forward.
Inside, the house greeted me with its same sweetness, like something was baking, even when the oven was cold. Mamma had kept it that way. Her love for food had long been the mask she draped over everything else.
We neared the living room. The voices from the television bled through before I stepped around Vivo. I froze. Papa sat in his favorite chair, leg propped on the footrest.
“Papa?” My voice cracked sharper than I meant.
His head lifted, startled. I started toward him, but slowed when I saw someone else in the room.
A guy sat sprawled on the opposite sofa.
He wore a navy jersey and jeans. His black hair was messy, not the kind you comb, but the kind you give up trying to fix.
He didn’t smile; his face carried the weight of someone who’d seen too much to bother with pleasantries.
I couldn’t place why, but something about him made my spine stiffen.
Papa’s voice yanked me back. “Why didn’t you say you were coming?”
I rushed to him, dropped into his arms for a brief embrace, then pulled away fast, eyes falling to the bandage wrapping his leg.
“The same way you don’t tell me things,” I said, fingers hovering over the gauze. “No one bothered to tell me you got injured. No wonder Mamma’s been brushing me off.”
From behind, Mamma’s voice sliced in. “I did?”
I glanced over my shoulder, narrowing my eyes. “You weren’t good at hiding it. I knew something was off.” My hand skimmed the edge of his bandage. “Can you walk?”
“I can,” Papa said.
I stood, offering my hand. “Then let’s walk.”
Mamma chuckled. “He just walked a few minutes ago. Let him rest.”
“No.” My voice dropped. “I need to see for myself. To know you’re not hiding a wheelchair somewhere.” My eyes swept the room, searching corners like I expected to find one tucked into shadows.
Papa sighed, giving in. “Fine, fine.” He eased his leg down and pushed forward. I reached for him, but he waved me off with a grunt. “I can stand on my own.”
“He’s stubborn,” Mamma muttered.
I stepped back, arms folded, watching him push to his feet. He wavered, found his balance, then took a step. I let out an exhale. “I’m relieved.”
Papa chuckled, brushing off my worry. “You act like I’m dying. It’s nothing. You worry too much.”
“If you had told me, I wouldn’t be worried.” I quarreled, and Mamma slipped toward the kitchen. I helped Papa sit back on the couch. His exhale was heavier than he wanted me to notice, but I caught it. He was pushing too hard for my sake.
Silence thickened as I also occupied the sofa next to Papa. My eyes shifted to the stranger on the other sofa. “Sorry,” I said finally. “I didn’t greet you.”
He gave a slight shrug, one shoulder lifting and falling. “All good.”
I nodded, though the longer I looked, the more the air bent strangely around him, so I turned away before it lingered.
Papa broke the tension with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So, should I stop worrying now that you’re back?”
“He told me everything,” I answered. “That’s why I’m here.”
Papa’s gaze shifted between us before he lifted a hand in a lazy gesture. “This is Alonzo. Alonzo, this is Alessia.”
“Do I know him?” My voice cut in.
“Your mother will explain the rest,” Papa said, and that was enough. Rodion didn’t lie to me. I had a brother.
I stared at Alonzo. His features were sharp, where mine softened. His expression carried the kind of weight that stripped a man of laughter. If he smiled, I hadn’t seen it, and I doubted he bothered trying.
A knot climbed into my throat, but I swallowed it down.
Mamma returned with a glass of juice in her hand. She passed it to me before sitting at my side, her palm settling on my shoulder.
“I meant to tell you about him.”
My fingers stilled around the glass. I didn’t look at her. “Papa was hurt, and no one told me. How am I supposed to believe you would have told me that I have a brother?”
“You knew?” Her voice faltered with surprise.
I lifted the glass and took a sip. The juice was sweet, but it didn’t wash out the bitterness lodged in my mouth. I hadn’t realized how quickly I emptied it until I caught their eyes on me. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand. “Just say it.”
The silence that followed pressed heavier than Mamma’s touch. I let out a sigh and turned toward Alonzo. He looked as uneasy as I felt.
“Listen, Alessia…” Mamma’s voice softened. “I should have told you.”
“Me? Or Papa?” I asked. “I’m twenty-four,” I said, my voice tightening. “So stop circling it and tell me everything.”
Alonzo shifted, his feet screeching against the floor. He cleared his throat. “Should I wait outside?”
Papa and Mamma answered together. “Yes.”
But I shook my head. “No, stay.” My voice held the finality. I swallowed hard. “I shouldn’t be mad.” Mamma reached for me again, but I pulled back, heat flushing beneath my skin. “But this is different, Mamma.” My voice dropped lower. “Is he your son?”
Her lips parted. “Alessia…”
“Is he?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. He is. And I understand you’re hurt, but things were different—”
“I’m not hurt.” The words came out too loud, fire climbing into my chest. “You hurt Papa.” My gaze cut to her, then to the stranger across from me. “And worse … you hurt him.”
I pointed at Alonzo. The motion broke something inside me. My breath ragged, and I shut my eyes. “You know what?” My words came out almost as a plea. “I need to calm down.”
Papa’s voice cut through. “You’re right, darling. But we talked about it. That’s why Alonzo is here now. It’s hard for you, and yes, it changes everything, but listen, nothing changes.”
I stared at Papa, trying to blink sense into the weight pressing against my temples. “I shouldn’t be mad, right? For not knowing any of this?”
Mamma’s whisper barely carried. “I’m sorry.”
My gaze slid to Alonzo. “What about him?”
He met my eyes. “My life goes on,” he said simply. “I’m not here to change anything. I’m returning to Italy.”
He should have been angry. But he wasn’t. It was like he had practiced burying what he couldn’t change.
The silence swelled again until Papa broke it. “Regardless … he is your brother. And that is why we will move to Italy together.”
My head snapped toward him. “What?”
Papa nodded. “Yes. I already found a job there. This isn’t about Alonzo alone. With the way things are, I have to take my family there.”
Confusion clawed at me. “Wait, we’ll go back home?”
“Yes.”
“But Papa—”
He cut me off gently, but the words struck hard. “It’s not safe here, Alessia. You know it. I was shot. And who knows who will be next?”
My heart sank
“So yes,” he went on. “That’s my decision. I dealt with Rodion and gave him what he wanted. Soon I’ll face him myself, and he should let you go.”
Rodion.
The name shouldn’t have made my stomach twist. But it did. Why did it feel wrong? Why did it feel like leaving his side was the last thing I wanted to do?
I sat there, reality landing in heavy pieces. Rodion’s life wasn’t going to be mine.
“Those people are dangerous. Their enemies are worse. And they know I worked with him. They know you. Next time, they might kill one of us.”
“No.” My whisper broke through. “Don’t say that.”
Mamma leaned closer, her hand brushing mine. “It’s best we move back home. It’s safe.”
Safe.
My thoughts spun. What was the plan now? I had started to adjust to Rodion’s world, to him. And now?
Yes, they were dangerous. No one had to remind me. I had seen it and even experienced the worst. Rodion was not a man you brought home to meet your parents.
So why did the thought of leaving feel like ending something I wasn’t ready to lose? Why did I want to scream against how wrong it was?
No one spoke after that. The truth settled over me. Rodion was not mine. We weren’t meant to be. And if I didn’t let go now, it would cut too deep.