Chapter Seven
When I had imagined escaping from our prison with Nestore, it had never unfolded like this. Nestore was turning into a monster, hungry for revenge.
I whirled around, unable to bear the sight of Nestore cutting my father open.
The sound of bone splintering and the cries of my father dying in a gurgle made me retch, and bile filled my mouth.
I hadn’t eaten in two days, or I would have thrown up too.
Instead, I spit out the bile, shuddering heavily.
Silence followed. I wished my father were dead.
I wished it for Nestore, but remembering his words, I knew my wish wouldn’t be granted. Nestore wasn’t done with my father.
Heavy black boots appeared in my field of vision, and when I looked up, my gaze met merciless, almost black eyes.
Remo Falcone, son of Benedetto Falcone, the man who had commanded my father.
Was his son any better? Looking into his pitiless face, I doubted it.
He had freed us, true, but not out of the goodness of his pitch-black heart.
He wanted power and revenge, and he knew injured animals were the most vicious.
Nestore was wounded in so many ways, wounded in ways I wasn’t sure could be mended after having witnessed his monstrous actions today.
Remo Falcone wanted Nestore to become his monster—an army of monsters to conquer a kingdom for another monster.
Remo dissected me with his eyes. Distrust filled his. I held his gaze even as my pulse raced from fear. I had seen too much to cower in front of another monster.
He moved closer and leaned down so his low words only reached my ears. “The path he’ll tread is one you should be certain you can follow. Are you willing to brave the dark? Or will another Lamorgese betray a Romano?”
I cringed at the implication. My father had betrayed Nestore’s father in the worst way. “I would never—”
He raised a palm, his smile hard. “You can’t even bear to witness what he’s become, and believe me, he’s still evolving.” His eyes hardened. “Or is it perhaps pity for your father that makes you close your eyes to what’s happening?”
Evolving. He made it sound as if Nestore was becoming a better version of himself, something to admire. But I wanted to keep my Nestore, the boy who listened to me reading him The Tale of Peter Rabbit with a wistful smile. I didn’t want him to lose himself.
I didn’t want to watch Nestore lose more of his humanity with every slice of the blade.
I was consumed by the weight of our past, by the utter darkness clawing its way out from the very depths of where I’d buried it. “I don’t pity my father.”
Remo scanned my arms and the wrist I held stiffly against my chest. “Maybe. Maybe the bruises that he left will give you the courage to become the person Nestore needs by his side.”
“You don’t know what Nestore needs.”
His smile was vicious. “But I know what he craves in the darkest corners of his broken soul.” He didn’t mean love or anything of the sort.
He glanced past me at something and straightened, bringing a bit more distance between us.
A warm hand on my lower back made me relax, and I sank into the touch. My Nestore.
“That look in your eyes is unnecessary and would have dire consequences under other circumstances,” Remo said, his warning gaze focused on the man behind me. “I have no interest in your girl. I have whores to fuck and don’t need anyone for emotional bullshit. And she’s still a girl.”
“Your father enjoyed them young like that,” Nestore murmured.
I shivered.
“I’m not my father,” Remo said in a voice that sent a spike of fear through me. “I don’t betray the people loyal to me. I reward them. You can have everything you desire.”
Nestore nodded. “If I’m loyal to you.”
“If you’re loyal.”
“You saved me from my prison and gifted me him,” Nestore said, nodding toward my father.
I followed his gaze with trepidation and heaved.
Father lay unconscious on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
Part of the bone in his lower leg was missing.
Nino Falcone knelt beside him and wrapped a belt around his upper thigh to stop the blood flow.
Another man attached a drip to Father’s hand.
I tore my eyes away. They were making sure he lived so he could be tortured more.
“Once we’ve gathered all the evidence, you can burn down this place if you want.”
“No,” Nestore murmured. My eyes widened. No? “This is my house. It’s where Amelia and I will live, where we’ll rule.”
Remo chuckled. “I like it. It takes a certain type of person to remain in a place like this.”
Nestore remained silent. Something in his hand caught my eye, and when I looked down, a cry lodged itself in my throat. He held a bone covered in blood and flesh in his hand. My father’s bone.
I closed my eyes, tears squeezing out.
“You and the girl should rest. The house is clear. Pick a bedroom and sleep. We can discuss the details in the morning. Nino will patch up Lamorgese so you can enjoy him for a while. And if you want, Nino will treat the girl’s and your injuries.”
“Yes,” Nestore said. I looked up at him. He looked exhausted and a little lost, as if he couldn’t believe we were finally free.
“Where are my stepmother and brother?” I asked.
“Upstairs, locked inside a bedroom,” Nino said as he straightened. My father remained motionless on the floor.
“We’ll question her later to determine her further fate,” Remo said.
“Don’t hurt her. She’s innocent.”
Remo narrowed his eyes at me, and I backed into Nestore for comfort. “I highly doubt it. She’s guilty of cowardice at the very least.”
“She endured more than you can fathom,” I whispered, rage and respect of the unhinged Capo filling me.
“Don’t assume you know anything about what my brothers and I have endured to be where we belong. Our blood and suffering will be the foundation of a new Camorra.”
“Flavia Lamorgese helped us. Without her, neither Amelia nor I would be alive. She falls under my responsibility as Underboss.”
Remo tilted his head. “Tomorrow, when you accept the tattoo of the Camorra, you’ll be Underboss, and then she’ll be yours to deal with.”
Nestore gave Remo a nod.
He took my hand again.
“Nino will take you upstairs and show you the rooms. We made sure they are all clear.”
Walking the corridors of the place that had been my home and prison for three years felt strange with Nestore by my side. This place felt haunted, as if the walls were whispering about the horrors they had seen over time. I didn’t want to stay. I hoped Nestore would eventually agree.
Nino opened the door to the primary bedroom and motioned for us to go in. Nestore waited for Nino to step back before he led me inside.
“That’s where Lamorgese slept?”
“I doubt he found much sleep here in the past few months since my brother and I began burning down everything he valued to get to him,” Nino drawled. Something about him set my teeth on edge. He appeared too emotionless, as if none of what happened today had made his pulse spike.
“Can I go to Flavia?” I asked, gathering all of my courage.
Nino looked at Nestore, then at me. “You should get cleaned up and rest. I’ll be back with a first-aid kit to treat your wounds in thirty minutes.”
He left and closed the door.
“Go ahead, take a shower. I’ll wait here and make sure you’re safe,” Nestore said. He wasn’t looking at me, though. His gaze lingered on the bone still clutched in his hand.
“Nestore—”
He shook his head. “There’s too much noise in my head right now. I need to…” He trailed off as if he wasn’t sure what he needed, what would help him.
Clinging to my father’s bone certainly wouldn’t, but I could see that he wasn’t ready for that conversation.
I touched his bicep, then turned and headed toward the bathroom.
I had never been inside the primary bedroom.
Father had taken it as his from the moment we moved in.
The bathroom was held in black marble with gold veins.
A massive round Jacuzzi bathtub was positioned in the middle.
Four columns stretched from its marble edge to a vaulted ceiling with a painted night sky.
The golden fittings complemented the gold accents in the black marble.
A massive rain shower with a steam function took up half of one wall. The room was at least 400 square feet.