Chapter Eight #2
I left the basement, ignoring Niccolo’s attempt to talk to me. I wasn’t sure if I could forgive him for taking three years to come for me. Part of me was glad he was alive, but another envied the life he’d been allowed to live while I had gone through hell.
I found Nino and Remo in the kitchen, eating breakfast. The staff had prepared omelets. They had worked for my father before they’d worked for Lamorgese. They didn’t care who they served eggs to. I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep them.
I sat across from the two Falcones.
“Make him an omelet,” Remo ordered one of the cooks. Marla was her name, and she’d been working here since before my birth. “I see you’re as averse to wearing shirts as I usually am.”
“What are your plans?” I asked, cutting to the chase. I had no intention of discussing how sensitive my skin was to the feel of fabric, thanks to all the scars. Considering the number of scars on his body, he probably knew.
“What are yours?” Remo asked, cocking an eyebrow. It was split by a scar.
I leaned back. With less than twenty-four hours of freedom, I should give my body time to rest. I should spend time with Amelia. But restlessness had taken hold of me. I wanted to solidify my power and prevent something like Lamorgese from happening ever again.
“I’ll take the tattoo today and officially become one of your Underbosses. Then I’ll have this house cleaned until every trace of Lamorgese and his traitorous men is wiped away. After that, I’ll fight by your side to kill whoever needs to be killed to make sure you stay Capo, and I stay Underboss.”
A satisfied smile broke across Remo’s face. “I’m impressed. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to handle responsibility so soon, but your determination and hunger for revenge are perfect tools for our purposes.”
“Is California under your rule?”
Remo shrugged. “Close. San Diego still holds the fort. From what I hear, the Underboss there is preparing everything to leave the sinking ship.”
“Will you let him?” I asked neutrally.
“No. Rats need to be poisoned, or they’ll propagate.”
“Agreed.” I’d spend each waking hour in my life to hunt every last traitor and person who’d wronged me. I wouldn’t rest until they’d all paid the ultimate price for what they’d done.
“In the afternoon, Fabiano, my enforcer, will join us to oversee how you receive your tattoo, and tomorrow morning, we’ll leave for San Diego to kill everyone who supported the wrong Capo. You are cordially invited to join us.”
“What about your two younger brothers?” He hadn’t mentioned them. Perhaps he’d really killed them to rise to power. If that were the case, I’d have to be even more careful around Remo.
Something in his face shifted, a warning bell that told me all I needed to know. Protectiveness and fury battled in his dark eyes. “They aren’t your concern yet.”
I gave a terse nod. “Who makes sure none of the prisoners in my basement get killed or escape? They are mine to punish.”
“Your cousin Niccolo and a couple of my men will stay back.”
“Amelia needs to be safe. People need to know that she’s mine and that I’ll kill anyone who dares to lay a hand on her.”
“I’ll tell my men. You won’t have to worry about her.” He paused, eagerness filling his face. “The only thing you need to focus on is to be exactly who you are. The man who ripped a throat out with his bare teeth. That story will make you notorious.”
I hardly remembered biting into the guard’s neck, only the rush of adrenaline in my veins and pure rage lighting up my insides.
When I watched Nestore receive the Camorra tattoo this afternoon, some of the hope I’d harbored for a life away from all the violence died.
Nestore didn’t show a flicker of pain when Nino touched the tattoo needle to his forearm.
I stood off to the side while the men loyal to the Falcones had gathered in a circle around Nestore.
Nestore was determined to do Remo’s bidding, to kill and maim on his behalf. Nestore hungered for violence in a way that terrified me. I could see it in every angle of his face. Nestore had hurt so much, and now he wanted to see others suffer.
I wasn’t sure how to make him see that a life existed beyond the anguish and pain. I wanted us to have a future without the darkness that stained our past.
Maybe it was still too soon. Maybe Nestore needed this to move past what had happened. I didn’t want him to leave in the morning, but I knew I couldn’t stop him.
Eventually, I turned away from the inking, unsure what to do. Niccolo appeared by my side, making me jump. I didn’t know him very well.
“Remo will allow you to visit your stepmother and stepbrother. I’ll take you to them.” Surprise washed over me. I had asked him several times, so I wondered why he would let me see them now, of all times. Maybe he didn’t want a woman present when Nestore was inducted.
Niccolo took me to one of the guest bedrooms on the upper floor. My belly tightened when he opened the door, worried about what I might find behind it.
Flavia perched on the sofa, breastfeeding her son. Niccolo’s expression twisted with discomfort at the scene. “I’ll wait in front of the door.” He left without another word.
Flavia scoffed. “Nothing drives away men faster than the sight of a baby feeding from a breast.”
I walked over to her, noting with relief that she had a tablet with food on her bedside table.
I sank down beside her. My heart swelled, and my eyes filled with tears at the sight of my little brother for the first time.
He was a chubby little thing, with dark hair and tiny fingers and toes. He was perfect.
Flavia gave me a soft smile. “When he’s done eating, you can hold him if you want?”
I nodded, my throat clogging with emotions. “How are you?”
She scanned me from head to toe, lingering on my bandaged wrist. “That’s a question I should ask. Are you safe?”
“Safer than before.”
“The Falcones reign brutally over their territory.”
“They’re at war. Wars are always brutal.”
“Some men never return mentally from war.”
“I’m just happy that Nestore’s suffering is over, that he gets a chance to live.”
She stroked the dark hair of her baby, a soft smile tugging at her lips. When she looked back up, her eyes were serious. “Is he dead?”
“Father? No. He’s down in a cell. Nestore…Nestore wants to torture him before he kills him.”
Flavia swallowed. “I wish he were dead.”
“So do I. Not just for you and me, but also for Nestore. I worry what it’ll do to him if he is consumed by revenge.”
“It’s hard to move on from what he’s survived, Amelia. Maybe he can’t. Perhaps you need to let him go.”
My eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe you should leave this manor, this life, and all the darkness clinging to it. I won’t stay.”
My heart sank. “You’re going away?”
“Yes. I told Remo Falcone everything I knew when he came by this morning, and he told me I could leave. He doesn’t seem too concerned about releasing women. He doesn’t consider me a threat to his power.”
Sadness overcame me. “You’re really leaving?”
She touched my hand with a soft smile. “Come with me. I’m sure Remo won’t care.”
Maybe Remo wouldn’t, but Nestore most definitely would.
He’d never let me go. I had promised him to stay, and I couldn’t imagine being without him, but I couldn’t deny it.
He had scared me on occasion in the last twenty-four hours.
Though that wasn’t even why I felt the deep desire to leave.
These walls seemed to whisper about the past. I heard them at night or when I closed my eyes. It felt like I was still their captive.
“You don’t have to decide now. We’ll stay for a few more days to give things time to calm down. I want all of your father’s men out of the way before I’m seen in public.”
Niccolo took me back down an hour later, but we never made it to the ballroom before Nestore came our way, eyebrows drawn together and eyes harsh with suspicion. “Where did you take her?”
“To her stepmother on Remo’s orders,” Niccolo said.
Nestore touched my waist, worry clouding his expression as he met my gaze. “Are you okay?”
“I am. I just had a chat with Flavia. I needed to make sure she and the baby were all right.” I lowered my gaze to the tattoo on the inside of his forearm. The skin around it was an angry red. The eye on the hilt of the blade was puckered because of a burn scar there. “Now you’re a Camorrista.”
“A Camorrista and Underboss, as was my destiny all along.”
“I thought you’d have to be of age to take the position.”
Nestore shrugged. “It’s only a few more days. Nobody will care about age if I prove myself.”
How? I wanted to ask, but I was too scared of the answer.
I woke with a start. Suppressed screams filled the room.
I turned on the light and blinked against the sudden brightness until Nestore came into focus on the floor beside the bed.
He must have slept down there if the pillow and blanket were any indication.
His muffled screams were the result of him pressing his forearm into his mouth, teeth drawing blood as he screamed in agony.
It was a nightmare, but too close to what he’d really endured to make me feel sick.
Tears sprang to my eyes and trickled down my cheeks.
I leaned over the edge of the bed and grasped his shoulder. “Nestore! Wake up!”
With a start, his eyes shot open, haunted and terrified, his expression almost boyish in its terror. He lowered his arm from his lips. The bite marks remained.
“You had a bad dream.”
He blinked slowly. “A dream.” He closed his eyes and shuddered. “It didn’t feel like one.” He gripped his head, fingers digging into the skin. “He’s in there. I want him out. I want them all out.”
“I know.”