Chapter 33
Dario “Dash” Mangiacavallo
A chair from my dining room table set in the corner of my bedroom, beneath the television mounted above, I sat low on the cushion, my ankles crossed, my feet propped on the trunk that normally sat there.
My head resting on the wall, my fingers were twined over my abdomen, my thumbs tapping together.
To my disappointment, Vincent had stayed unconscious much longer than I expected.
After cleaning us both, I’d had time to sweep up all the shattered glass, get a piece of plywood from the shed, and nail it over the broken door.
Even managed to Google a contractor and called, setting up a time for someone to come out and replace it within the next few days.
I very well could have fucked him at least two more times by now.
It had been nearly two hours since I slipped him the benzos.
Was this just how he reacted to them, or was he out longer because of the emotional trauma he was suffering beforehand?
Perhaps his psyche just needed the extra rest. Regardless, I would have to test the waters at least once more to gage a proper timeframe because fucking Vincent was my new favorite thing, and since he either wanted to play games or life wanted to interrupt, I’d take him any way I could.
I had never seen a grown man cry as hard as he did over Billy.
It pissed me off. It made me insane with jealousy.
Truth be known, I was glad the fucker was dead, it saved me the hassle of getting rid of him myself.
The man used Vincent, he took him for granted and kept him on a short leash.
Billy was allowed to have a life outside of their relationship, but he wasn’t? How was that fair?
He was in love with me. When did that happen? How? What moment in time switched things up where he saw me as more than a friend, as a brother?
For over an hour, I had barely taken my sight off him.
Since I got the chair, I planted my ass and hadn’t moved.
Until I knew he was in a good, stable headspace, Vincent was on lockdown because if he finished what he tried to start this morning, I would absolutely go ape shit.
He may as well take me out, too. Just like he didn’t want Violetta to go alone when we thought Jackyl had killed her, just like he didn’t want Billy to go alone, Vincent wouldn’t die alone, either.
Who would take care of my little Piera? With Mary gone, she had no one. I guess I could have her sent to live with my parents. Since she was a little girl, perhaps they would actually notice her. They had a clean slate to sculpt the next perfect athlete to bring honor to their name.
Fuck that. No way in hell my acorn was going to suffer the same inadequate insecurities I had growing up. Mary’s dad was dead and her mother had been MIA since she was thirteen, so there was no one on that side of the family.
I guess I could call my cousin, Maximus Giordana. He was a good, solid dude. Of course, that meant she’d grow up in the mafia, but that wasn’t so different than living with the Serpent life. He was a single man, however. Would he want to suddenly be a daddy?
Violetta. I would send her to Violetta and the bitch.
They would be amazing role models. They knew what it was like to grow up with shit parents.
After getting to know Tyler, I knew, without a doubt, he was going to be one hell of a father.
Piera would need that if I had to follow Vincent out of this world.
She already looked just like the Eddies, no one would suspect they weren’t actually siblings.
Movement outside the window caught my attention.
Watching a little squirrel fluff its tail on the side of the sixty-year-old elm tree, my mind drifted a bit, trying to decipher my own feelings.
I didn’t know if I was full blown gay because when I thought about other men going at it, my stomach curdled.
When I pictured tits and pussy, I still got excited.
It was Vincent. There was something about him that changed me.
Something about that precise time, in that house in Georgia, that man struck a chord in my soul and forever made me a different person.
Strangely, I wasn’t all too upset about it, either.
I kind of enjoyed being the object of his affection.
For a man who was in his thirties and had only ever loved one other person, to have found something in me special enough to close his heart to that man and look at me was pretty fucking remarkable.
I’d never felt so damn special or prioritized.
None of the women I’d ever been with cared this much.
I wasn’t like a lot of the guys we knew in the Serpents who whored around, bouncing from one woman to the other.
They cared about the quantity, always seeking a new notch in their belt.
At one point, I had shared those views, dipping my dick in anything that opened their cunts.
I lied, I cheated, I manipulated to dump cum in as many pussies as possible.
Right around the time I met Mary, however, something changed.
I grew up. Watching Jackyl and Violetta together, I had longed for something similar, substance, structure, commitment.
I had wanted the wife, the home, the stability of being in a set relationship.
And, now that I knew how amazing parenthood was, I wanted more kids.
I wanted to know when I was at work, stressing through my job, there was a family waiting for me at home that valued not just my money, but my time. Depth. I wanted depth.
Vincent fit that ideal. So what if he was a man? What did that matter in this day and age? Gayness wasn’t crucified these days, like bitch said. It was embraced and accepted.
That was regular society, though. What would the Serpents say? Vincent was to take Jackyl’s place, one step below The Boss. How would that go over, the leader of a notorious gang…gay?
Anxiety tightened my muscles and my arms crossed. Probably not too well. In fact, I bet some would even riot. He would be stripped of the position he had busted his ass to attain since he was a child. How could I sit back and let him throw a lifetime of work away?
On the other hand, how could I be okay with him being in another closeted relationship when I saw how much it bothered him? If I cared about him, wouldn’t I…
My heart skipped a beat and I froze, my eyelids rounding. In the midst of picking at the torn skin on my hand from the glass, I gulped, staring across the room at him. Holy shit, not only was I gay, was I falling for Vincent? What the fuck happened?
He began moaning and moving about, his legs kicking side to side. Glimpsing at him out the corner of my eyes, I rotated my wrist to check my watch. Two hours and fifteen minutes. Tomorrow, I’d drug him again and time it, just to make sure.
Of course, I would take advantage and breed that pussy again. Maybe two or three times. I could bust a couple nuts in about forty-five minutes, that was a perfectly safe window of time to empty my nuts and clean him up before the drugs wore off.
His features scrunched and a choked whimper hitched his throat. Lashing about, he burst out sobbing before his eyes even opened.
I frowned, gutted at his misery. Christ, this was fucking hard. As much as I was glad Billy was gone so there was no competition, it was ripping me apart to see him like this.
Setting my feet on the floor, I sucked my teeth and stood, rubbing the sorest injury. Crossing the floor, I crawled onto the mattress and scooted closer, lying on my side. Cupping his cheek, I softly called out his name.
“Hey, hey. Look at me. Shh, Vinny, look at me, baby.”
Batting his wet lashes, he peered through them, his chin quaking. “What did I do?” he whispered.
Emotions clogged my throat as I faintly shook my head. “Nothing, baby. This ain’t your fault.”
“He told me he would do it and I didn’t believe him.”
“You had no reason to. Even if you did, it still ain’t your fault. You cannot be held responsible for another grown man’s choices. It wasn’t fair for him to keep you chained up like that.”
His bloodshot, hazel eyes searched my features, the tears sliding out. “I just wanna fucking die, too. This hurts so fucking much.”
Clucking my teeth, I tugged him to roll to his side, as well, and wrapped my arms around him. One hand petting his scratched up back, the other lifted, his neck in the crook of my elbow. Pressing my lips to his scalp, I closed my eyelids, thrilled that he was clinging to me.
“Don’t say that, Vinny. Don’t ever fucking say that. You are too goddamn important to too many people.”
He shook the whole bed with his sobs, but he was holding me back, and that’s all I cared about. As long as he’d let me, I’d never let him go, either.
Dario “Dash” Mangiacavallo
Flushing the toilet, I quickly washed my hands, checking my reflection in the mirror. There were bags under my eyes, and the stubble was growing on my jaw again. Irritated, I dried my hands and scratched at it as I stepped out of the bathroom. When I looked up, the bed was empty and my heart sank.
“Vinny?” I croaked, dread curdling my stomach.
Getting no answer, panic shot straight from zero to one hundred within the time it took me to choke on an inhale.
Stumbling forward, I rushed out of the bedroom and down the hallway, sweat coating my body from the abuse I was inflicting on my wounds.
Pressing on the one in my gut, I hissed through gritted teeth, doing a kind of skip and hobble through the living room.
I rounded the corner to the kitchen and dining room and my bare feet skidded on the floor.
He was standing by the sink, a seven inch knife gripped in his hand so tightly, his knuckles were turning white. Tears staining his face, his eyes were swollen and bloodshot, his chest rising and falling to labored breaths.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered, everything inside turning to ice. My palms held out, I approached slowly, my brain racing with chaos. “Put it down, Vin.”
His chin quivering, he looked at me through his wet lashes. “I killed him,” he whimpered. “He’s dead, and it’s my fault.”
My heart lodged in my throat, my sight bounced back and forth between his face and the knife. “It ain’t your fault, baby,” I soothed, inching nearer.
“Stay back!” he bellowed, extending his arm to point the blade at me.
The anguish in his stare was shredding me apart inside. Refusing to let him suffer alone, I straightened my spine and closed the distance between us.
“I said stay away!” he shouted, spit flying from his mouth.
I held his stare and went right up to the blade, letting it prick my chest. A tiny trail of blood trickled down, but I didn’t even flinch. “If you go, take me with you.”
A sharp inhale hitched the back of his throat, his mouth and eyes wide. “What?”
“Ride or die, Vin. You ain’t going through this alone. So, if you gotta go, I’m going with you.”
His features scrunched and he shook his head. “What? No, that…that ain’t right. What about Piera?”
“Tiny will raise her, but I ain’t staying here without you. You ain’t leaving me, baby, so go ahead. It’s okay. I’m ready to go wherever you go.”
He shook with a suppressed sob, his brows arched high. “You’ll…go with me?”
“Anywhere. You ready?”
His eyes moved about to look all over my face, his nostrils flaring in and out with heavy breaths.
His resolve weakening, I took his wrist, pulled it away, and pried the knife from his fingers, tossing it to the sink.
I cupped the back of his neck and pulled him to me right as he broke down, sobbing.
His face in the crook of my neck, one arm folded around to his back as I petted his hair.
“Shh, it’s okay, baby. I got you. I’ll always have your back.
” I craned my neck to place a lingering kiss to his ear, cringing when his hands balled to fists at my back.
Holding a grown man that was weeping hysterical was something I never thought I’d be doing, but there wasn’t a single thing or person that would make me be anywhere but here.
I pulled him closer and closed my eyelids, swaying us side to side. This was where I needed to be and, if Vincent really did go through with killing himself, I would keep my promise and go with him.