Chapter 25 Constantine #2
When we made it to Rome, the city was full of sirens.
That wasn’t unusual on a normal day, but ambulances and police and firefighters were everywhere.
The fire from the monument was so bad the entire sky was blacked out by smoke.
Destruction from the attack was visible in every direction, lots of roads closed off as the military and police did their jobs.
I was disgusted by it all.
And there was graffiti all over the place .
. . not just on the sides of apartment buildings and alleyways, but the Colosseum, the Spanish Steps, everywhere.
And strange people crowded all the streets.
Not people riding their motorbikes to the grocery store or meeting friends.
But drug dealers just waiting for customers to show up on some of the busy street corners.
They were visible at every turn—like the entire city was on something.
When Rocco had warned me how much the city had changed, I still hadn’t expected this.
I was dropped off at the hospital and checked in at the front desk. I feared the receptionist would tell me Rocco was in the morgue in the basement, but she gave me his room number in the ICU.
Thank god.
I took the elevator to the top floor and stopped outside his door.
It was a private room and the door was open, so I could see him lying there, wires hooked up all over his body, his face beaten up so badly, he was almost unrecognizable.
A doctor seemed to be in the room doing his rounds, so I waited outside until he was finished before I let myself in.
The TV was on in the corner, but it was muted. It showed the news.
Rocco didn’t look at me right away, probably because he thought I was another doctor or a nurse who’d come to check on him. His eyes were more interested in the news, but when he noticed I hadn’t moved, he turned to look at me.
I watched his reaction to me. Watched his eyes widen at the sight of me like I was the last person in the world he expected to see. It took him a second to process the sight and lower his eyebrows. His expression turned neutral, and he stared at me with his typical poker face.
I approached his bedside and took a seat in the empty chair meant for visitors.
Wordlessly, he stared at me.
I couldn’t figure out exactly what Rocco had been through because his injuries were hidden underneath his gown, but if his body looked anything like his face, then he was lucky to be alive. “You all right?”
“I’m supposed to be dead—so, could be worse.”
I didn’t chuckle, even if it was a joke. Nothing was funny right now. “What happened?”
“Tried to take down Darius. He decided he needed a matching nightstand, so he tried to shove me into one of his oil drums alive. It got rough. Only got away by chance, but not before he messed me up pretty bad.”
My eyes moved to the TV because it was easier to look at the news than visualize his tale.
“It’s not the first time I’ve tried to kill him, but he’s never alone, so it’s hard to manage.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
“I’ll be fine, Constantine.”
“No. I’m sorry that you’ve had to do this alone.” I kept my eyes on the TV because it was too hard to look at him. “I’m sorry I turned my back on you . . . our city . . . the Republic.”
A long stretch of silence passed, packed with things unsaid.
I didn’t expect him to forgive me or even acknowledge what I’d said. But I wanted to say it anyway. Our friendship was probably beyond repair at this point.
“You put your family first—as every man should.”
My eyes left the TV to look at him, to verify he’d actually said the words I’d just heard.
“You didn’t have another choice. I shouldn’t have made you feel like shit about it.”
I was stunned into silence, feeling the invisible weight I carried slowly leave my shoulders.
“It’s better for you to be there for her than to be in this hospital bed like me.”
“You shouldn’t be in this hospital bed either.”
He looked back at the TV and watched it for a while.
It was tense and awkward, like we didn’t know how to talk to each other.
“You came all the way here to see me?” he asked.
“I came all the way here to kill that asshole and protect the Republic.”
He looked at me instead of the TV.
I held his gaze. “I’ve got to kill him, Rocco. I can’t let him come for Aurelia and the others.”
He stared at me for a while before he gave a nod. “Yeah, I know.”
“I know you feel like shit right now and look like shit too—but you’ve got to get out of this bed and help me.”
Rocco signed all the paperwork to indicate he understood he was declining care from the hospital and leaving against their medical advice. He’d just had adnominal surgery due to the lacerations he’d taken from Darius’s knife, and he was being held together by long lines of stitches.
He got dressed in front of me, and that’s when I saw the extent of the damage. “Damn.”
“Asshole got me good,” he said. “What’s the plan?”
“Tommaso and Cosa Nostra are here to help.”
“Good.”
“And I cashed in the debt from the Fifth Republic. Luca’s probably here or almost here. Told him to handle the gangs.”
“You don’t think that will piss off Darius?”
“Darius will think twice before starting a war with the Fifth Republic. Right now, I want him to focus on you.”
“Me?” he asked before he pulled his shirt over his head. “This fucking rag doll?”
“You think he’ll want to finish the job?”
He covered the extent of his injuries beneath his clothes before he started to get his shoes on. “He did say I would make a nice addition to his bedroom set. I’ve been the one consistently pushing back against him. The last resistance of the Roman Republic. Says I’m a modern-day Marcus Aurelius.”
“Quite the compliment.”
He released a quiet chuckle. “Pretty sure it wasn’t meant to be one.”
For a millisecond, I was frozen in time, reunited with the casual banter we’d shared for years.
Felt like old times . . . like we weren’t in the midst of a war.
I blinked, and then it was gone, the present conflict coming back to the forefront.
“I don’t have much time before he realizes I’m here.
I’m not sure if he’ll come for me or . . . hit me where it hurts.”
“The second one,” he said. “So we’ve got to move quickly.”
“You think he’s at the palace?” My fucking house.
“I don’t know. Our brawl happened outside the Quirinal Palace.”
The Quirinal Palace was the private residence of the Italian president. And that meant President Barsetti was either in trouble or he was dead. “What happened?”
“He forced President Barsetti to step down. Darius says there’s no such thing as a republic when there’s a king. I don’t know what happened to Barsetti, because when I got there, I almost died. The military police showed up, and an ambulance took me. Not sure what came after that.”
“I haven’t seen anything on the news that President Barsetti is dead, so that’s a good sign.”
“Maybe. Or maybe no one knows he’s dead.”
We walked out of the hospital together, Rocco doing his best to move normally, but his body was unresponsive. I slowed my walk so it was easier for him to keep up with me without overexerting himself.
We stayed in the lobby before we stepped out onto the street. “How do you feel about being bait?”
He winced from one of his cuts before he straightened. “Bait?”
“Sounds like he’s taking the heads of everyone who resists his ascension to the throne.
Put yourself out there, he’ll come. I’ll handle the rest. We’ve got to move fast because it won’t take long for him to realize that I’m in the city.
Cosa Nostra will be a dead giveaway. You think you can handle that? ”
“If he gets his hands on me, you know I’m dead.”
“You know I won’t let that happen.”
He reached for me and clapped me on the shoulder. “I know, man.”
Rocco made some calls and figured out Darius was at the Pantheon—hanging traitors. I called Tommaso, and he picked us up as we headed across the city to the square famous for evening strolls and gatherings. I’d taken Aurelia to dinner there shortly after we’d moved in together.
We stopped a street over and prepared for the shoot-out. I strapped on a vest because I was going to do everything in my power to get back to Aurelia. Do everything I could to live to hold my baby. To be a father to a daughter so badass no man would ever be good enough for her.
“You got this?” I said to Rocco.
He nodded. “You know how he is, likes to play with his food first. He’ll drop his guard, and you’ll have your chance. How are you going to do it?”
“Gonna shoot him in the fucking head.”
“And that’s it?” he asked in surprise. “It’s your chance for vengeance. Your chance to make him suffer.” He didn’t share the rest of his thought, but I knew he was thinking of my brother . . . who’d died a horrible death.
“I’ve got to think about the living, not the dead. If I see the shot, I’m taking it.” I’d brought my scoped rifle and my automatic rifle, a strap over each shoulder, a bandolier of grenades around my hip. “Let’s move.”
Rocco turned to the few men he had left, and they armed themselves before they headed into the square of the Pantheon.
I took my position at the corner of the building and witnessed the mayhem myself.
Hundreds of bodies hung from the top of the Pantheon, all dangling from nooses.
The men I’d hanged had been criminals, but when I looked at the people above, men and women, I recognized senators and the mayor . . . and their wives.
Can’t wait to kill this son of a bitch.
I watched Darius grab someone by the shoulder and throw him hard across the street in front of the oldest complete monument standing in Rome.
My eyes narrowed when I recognized President Barsetti.
Darius descended upon him. “You’re a traitor to your country, denying the king of Italy his rightful place on the throne. Your emperor is gone, your people have turned on you, and you continue to fight me like you have a chance.”