Chapter Eleven
Marco
AS HE stared down at the casket, he felt nothing. The hole in his heart grew each day. Expanding until he was certain there would be nothing of his heart left. It was as if his last breath had left him as hers had left her. Raped and murdered. His beautiful sister was gone. There was nothing left of who she had been in that mangled shell of a body. They had taken everything that made her who she was and left a shallow pit behind.
Fortunately, she had left the house without Dante who had been with the nanny, but now Dante would have to grow up without a mother. He would never remember her laugh or the way her arms felt around him. Someone had taken that from him.
Alicia’s body had been left in an alley outside of his territory. Someone had taken her, raped her, shot her, and then dumped her. As if she was nothing. As if she didn’t matter. But she did matter, and her killer would pay. He would make them pay. Whatever it took.
The police were getting in his way of finding out who’d done it. They wouldn’t share information with him but at least they hadn’t accused him of the murder. He wouldn’t have put it past them. They knew nothing. Nothing of the love he felt for his sister. They never would.
Rome had gotten the crime scene photos, and he refused to let Marco see them. He knew why. Seeing his beautiful sister like that? It would break him.
He looked at the rose in his hand and he knew he had to let it go. He had to let it fall down on the casket. He knew he had to move so others could do it, too, but his feet felt like they were incased in lead and his heart… it had stopped beating the second he’d been told she was dead.
Movement to his left had him looking up. Neil. In all this death and destruction, the man was the only thing keeping him standing. Keeping him sane. Without him, he wasn’t sure he would survive this.
He let go of the rose and watched it fall. It landed on the reddish-brown mahogany casket with a soft bounce, a few of the petals falling off. Another rose landed next to it.
He had lost so much. So soon.
He looked up at Neil. The thought of the man having to leave him to do his job felt like a knife to the chest. He didn’t want to be alone. He already felt so alone. The only ones he had left were Dante, Rome, and Neil.
He stepped away from the hole in the ground. The hole his sister was now in. He watched as others dropped roses on her casket, a strange hollowness spreading inside him.
“I’m so sorry,” Neil said, hand resting on Marco’s shoulder.
He didn’t care to shrug it off even with so many prying eyes around. If they wanted to wonder why he was letting another man touch him, they could be his guest.
“I wish… I should’ve done more.”
He snapped his head up. “What do you mean?”
Neil’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and he froze for a second.
He stepped closer, hissing, “What. Do you. Mean?”
Neil shook his head.
“I’m sorry. I told her―I told her I couldn’t help.”
If he’d thought feeling empty was bad, it had nothing on the spark of betrayal burning through him as he stared at the man he loved. The man who could’ve saved his sister.
“She went to you for help?”
Neil gave a short nod, eyes flitting around, unable to hold Marco’s gaze.
He put a hand on Neil’s chest, keeping it there for a heartbeat before he pushed with all his strength, sending Neil back a few steps. He slipped in the grass but caught himself before he could hit the ground.
“You could have saved her? And you did nothing?” he yelled.
Pain and regret flashed across Neil’s face and his guilt tore at Marco because he knew it meant that Neil thought he could have helped her. He could have saved her.
“Marco,” Neil croaked out, shaking his head. “Please, listen.”
But he saw red. The anger burning inside him was stronger than his grief. He wished he was armed but he couldn’t go to his sister’s funeral with a gun. She wouldn’t have wanted that. So, instead of shooting Neil, he slammed his fist into the side of his face.
Arms wrapped around him from behind, making him shout when he was pulled away from Neil.
“Enough,” Rome snapped.
He stopped fighting Rome, his dark glare on Neil.
“You’re the one who should’ve died,” he said and turned, pushing Rome off him, and walked away with his heart shattered and his life broken into pieces that would never fit together again.