Chapter 21 #4
The two women exchange a look. Something passes between them that I can’t read.
“I know,” I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. “You’re judging me for feeling anything for a man who frightens me. It’s all my mom and sister have ever done, tell me I’m stupid for caring about him.”
“There’s no judgment in this house,” Adora interrupts me.
She reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers.
“I saw the ambulance arrive and leave without him. You called it, didn’t you?
I talked to him myself, but he refuses to listen.
I wish I knew my brother better so I could understand him, but I don’t judge you for loving him.
Or for being afraid of him. Both things can be true at once. ”
Tears prick at my eyes.
He’s a psychopath, I remind myself. He killed four men and felt nothing.
He also allowed himself to be cut open without hesitation to save our son’s life.
He locked me in a wardrobe. He tied me up.
He’s never reproached me for lying about Leon. For keeping his son from him for four years.
All these thoughts are at war in my mind. They keep going round and round in my head, and all the while, I can feel Cristiano out there in the rain, the life draining out of him.
I picture him keeling over onto the wet and muddy grass, and my heart convulses.
I shoot to my feet, the chair scraping against the floor. “He’s going to kill himself. I have to stop him.”
Adora and Sofia call after me, startled, but I’ve made up my mind.
I don’t bother with a coat or umbrella. I just run out the front door.
The rain soaks through my clothes immediately, cold and relentless. I cross the street, my shoes splashing through puddles, and stop a few feet away from him.
Up close, Cristiano looks even worse than he did from the window. His skin is gray and his lips are tinged with blue. He’s trembling, though whether from cold or exhaustion or blood loss I can’t tell. But he holds himself upright, his posture rigid with stubborn pride.
“What are you doing?” The words come out sharper than I intend, edged with panic. “Cristiano, why are you still out here?”
“I can’t let you and Leon out of my sight.” His voice is rough, hoarse. “I won’t.”
“Then why don’t you come inside and get us?” I gesture at the house behind me. “What’s stopping Don Cristiano Montoni from just walking in there and taking what he wants?”
His jaw tightens. “My son needs his rest.”
“What?”
“If I come in there, you’ll run.” He sways slightly but catches himself. “You’ll take Leon and go. You’ll fight so hard to protect him from me. And he needs to get stronger. He needs to heal.”
The logic is twisted and desperate. He’s trapped himself here. Paralyzed between the need to be near us and the fear of driving us away.
“Then go home,” I plead. “Go to a hospital. Rest. Recover. You’re injured. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You can’t just stand here forever.”
“I can.” There’s grim acceptance in his voice. Like he’s already decided this is how it ends. “I will.”
Rain streams down his face. He doesn’t even try to wipe it away.
“Go back inside, Mina.” His eyes are locked on mine, burning with intensity despite his deteriorating condition. “You’ll catch your death out here.”
“I’ll catch my death?” My voice cracks. “You’re the one who’s been standing out here for days. You’re sick. You’re dying.”
“I’m right where I need to be.”
His words are not defiant or angry. Just factually stated, like he’s accepted this as truth. There’s nowhere for him to go, because home is where we are. And we’re here. So he’s here.
“Please.” I’m crying now, tears mixing with rain on my face. “Please, Cristiano. You’re scaring me.” And then, because I’m so afraid for him, I burst out with, “Come inside. Just come in the house, please.”
I almost reach for him the way I did when my fingers were in his hair, and we were building our future in whispered words, but I don’t want him to mistake my intent. I’m not locking Cristiano out of my heart for my sake. I’m doing it for Leon.
Hope flares in his eyes. He takes a half step toward me, his hand reaching for me, and then stops himself. “Do you mean that? You want me?”
“I want you to come inside,” I plead. “I want you to get the help you need.”
The light leaves his eyes. He forces his hand back down to his side and shakes his head. “I don’t want your pity. I want my family.”
My heart feels like it’s breaking. “Cristiano—”
“How is Leon? How is my son?”
For a moment I can only cry. How has it come to this? We’re so broken, and now the pieces are slipping through my fingers.
“He’s okay,” I whisper thickly. “He’s resting, and he’s been playing with the toys Sofia has given him.”
Pain and longing flicker over his face.
“That’s good.” His voice is barely audible over the rain. “That’s good. I’m nearby. I’m watching over him.”
His hands are curled into fists as though he’s desperately restraining himself.
“Go back inside, Mina. Please. I need to know you’re warm and dry and safe.”
“And what about you?”
“I’m exactly where I need to be. There’s nowhere else I can be but right here.”
I want to scream at him, and shake him until he sees reason, but I can see the grim determination. The absolute certainty that this is what he has to do.
Nothing I say will change his mind except I love you.
“You’re going to die out here,” I whisper.
He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t argue. Just looks at me, with those amber eyes that match our son’s, and says nothing.
I turn and walk back to the house, my throat burning with unshed tears.
Cristiano remains there, standing in the rain.
I stand at the window throughout the day, watching him. I can’t make myself look away. If he’s suffering, I can’t block it out. I have to suffer with him.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t seek shelter. Just stands there in the rain, his eyes fixed on the window. Sofia brings me dinner, but I don’t eat it. Adora comes to check on me, but I barely acknowledge her.
The evening drags on. The sky darkens. The rain clouds don’t leave us.
And neither does Cristiano.
Night falls, and I can barely see Cristiano through the darkness and the rain, but I know he’s there.
Giving up on the idea of sleep, I head downstairs to make myself some coffee. The kitchen light is off but the living room glows blue-white, and the sound of a television is murmuring. I follow it and stop in the doorway.
Adora and a man who must be Don Vincenzo are on the sofa together. He’s a lean, dangerous-looking man, sitting forward, elbows on his knees, his expression grim. She has her hand on his arm, and her expression is tight with worry.
On the screen before them, a reporter is standing in front of a building consumed entirely by fire.
Flames pour from every window, smoke billowing black against the night sky.
Emergency vehicles are everywhere. The ticker at the bottom of the screen reads brEAKING: FIRE AT DIAMOND GRAND CASINO—ARSON SUSPECTED.
Adora sees me first, and she immediately reaches for the remote. “Mina. I’m sorry. You don’t need to see this.”
I put my hand out before she can change the channel. “Why can’t I see this?”
Adora and Vincenzo exchange a look.
“It’s Cristiano’s,” Adora says. “The Diamond Grand is one of his.”
I stare at the burning building with new, horrified eyes.
“What happened?” I cry.
“The Sokolis.” Vincenzo’s voice is flat. He hasn’t looked away from the screen. “There’s no doubt about it.”
The name means nothing to me. “I don’t understand.”
Adora puts her hand on my shoulder, and says soothingly, “It doesn’t matter. You need to focus on Leon. He’s what matters now.”
I hear her unsaid words. It’s nothing to do with me because I’ve made my choice clear. A normal life. No Cristiano. No danger and secrets and blood.