Chapter 50
The instant Vanessa shuts the door, I turn and yank Serafina into a hug; one as tight as physically possible until she taps my back for reprieve.
Nero gets to his feet and over my sister’s shoulder, I mouth, Thank you.
Venus trots over and shoves between us, breaking Serafina and me apart with an affectionate snort. I pet the dog, grateful the Bratva left her unharmed and that Vanessa released her from the closet.
“You okay?”
Serafina nods. “They didn’t hurt us. Thankfully, we weren’t even in the foyer when they started shooting.”
Nero heads to the side and picks up a handgun lying by the wall, likely from where they made him discard it. He slaps open the chamber, counts the bullets, and slides the weapon into his waistband. “We going after them? I can call some men. Be on the plane within the hour.”
I think about my parting words to Vanessa: “You can try to run from this, but I refuse to lose.” But not yet. She’ll be expecting me for the next little while and will only relax after enough time passes. Until then, I’ll leave her be.
“No. For now, we forget the last twenty-four hours have happened.” To Serafina, I say, “I’ll take you home. I think we’ve all had enough fun today.”
For once, my sister doesn’t argue and heads for the door. Nero turns to follow too, saying, “Don’t know how far they’ve gone, so better not leave her alone.”
I nod, despite knowing Vanessa isn’t one to go back on her word. If she’s left us all alive minutes ago, it’s not so she can sneak attack us now.
After another look around the foyer, I follow them to the car.
Serafina’s quieter than before, remaining silent for the entire trip. I’d worry about her if I didn’t see her texting her friends to make plans for tomorrow night, like nothing’s happened. It’s good, though. It’s what I want for her. If she can walk away from this, it means she’s strong enough to separate fact from fiction: from the life she could have had and the life she does.
When we pull up to Madre’s home, she leaps out and without a parting look to Nero and me, heads for the door. I glance into the back seat at Nero, wondering if he shares my concerns, but he merely shrugs before trailing after her.
Madre stands from the couch when we enter, and Serafina rushes right toward her, wrapping her in a large hug. She holds onto her for a moment before releasing her and striding by us all and up the stairs.
Madre glances from her to us, her brows lacing together as she retakes her seat. “What happened?”
Nero grimaces and drops onto the couch beside her, while I lean against the adjacent wall beside the TV. “What didn’t happen?” He snorts.
“Serafina did what I needed her to,” I reply. “She met his daughter.”
Madre looks down at her hands, her lips pressed into a flat line. It takes her a while before she glances my way again. “How’d that go?”
I shrug. “She snuck into my room all to have a conversation with her, and she won’t tell me about what, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Because Vanessa is gone.
Madre glances toward the hallway again, one hand bracing on the couch cushion to stand. “I should go see her. Talk to her, see if she’s all right. She must be so angry. I never wanted to keep that from her, but…” Madre trails off with a quivering lip and waning strength that drops her back to the couch.
“She’s mad at me, not you. We kept it from her because of this very reason.”
“Still, it wasn’t fair.”
“It’s over either way,” I say with finality, crossing my arms. “This will all be a memory now.” Except for the fact Vanessa is now my wife. A detail I’m not sure when to admit to my mother.
Madre watches me for a long while before standing and heading toward the kitchen. “Well, I’m sure we can all use a drink.”
That perks Nero up, who sits a bit straighter. Madre gets to pouring wine into three glasses and Nero meets her halfway, retrieving mine and his. She takes a long swig of her own and leans against the kitchen island, leveling me with a stare of displeasure that only a mother can master.
“Where’s the girl now?”
“Gone.” The truth tightens my throat a bit more and I stare into the wine glass, seeking something—not sure what—in the blood red liquid. “Her people came for her. They left earlier.”
Madre’s eyes flick to the hallway again, that dip in her brows returning. She’s a wise woman and pieces it together instantly, given her slow blink and subtle nod. “Well, maybe that’s a good thing. Let her go. Leave the Bratva alone. Vengeance isn’t worth all this.”
“We’ll see, Madre. Game’s just changed, that’s all.”
Before Nero and I go, I seek out Serafina in her room to check once again she’s okay. She’s seated in the farthest corner of her bed, using the wall on either side of her to keep her upright. She doesn’t look up when I enter; all her attention remains on the notebook she’s furiously scribbling in.
“What’s that?” I take up residence just inside her doorway.
Ten seconds pass and when I assume she’s ignoring me, she peeks between fallen strands of hair without lifting her head. “My journal. I try to write in it at least weekly. Keeps me grounded.”
I’m sure you have a lot to write about this time.
“Nero and I are heading out. Wanted to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” Her tone is utterly flat.
I stride two steps farther into her room. “Sera—” But she stops me with a glare colder than death itself.
“Go away, Zeno. What happened today hasn’t changed the fact that I’m pissed at you.”
“I’m sorry, but?—”
“No buts.” She slams the notebook onto the bed beside her, and her pen rolls to the floor but neither of us retrieve it. “Stop rationalizing your decisions when you’re not validating my feelings in this. You don’t seem to understand that I get you’re worried, but it’s not right to expect me to be an emotionless, rule-abiding puppet you can control.”
No, that’s not— “Sera?—”
“Please leave, Z. Please. Like you said earlier, it’s been a day. Just…go. Please.”
For the second time today, a fight ends with neither side winning or losing.
The fact she still called me Z, a nickname only she and Nero uses, is a win, so I slowly cross the room to retrieve her pen and drop it back onto her journal. She watches my every move like a bunny about to be spooked, but doesn’t react when I bend closer and drop an affectionate kiss to her forehead.
“I’m sorry, Sera.”
I turn and exit her room.