Chapter 46
Matteo
“Eat, Matteo. You need your strength,” my mother says, threatening to spoon-feed me soup herself.
I don’t need food.
What I need is my wife.
It’s been close to a month since they took her from me. A month living without my heart.
The only mercy in this miserable existence of what has now become my life is that I’m no longer bedridden in some fucking hospital.
It took three surgeries to repair the damage Stella inflicted on me, followed by another two weeks recovering at home before I could walk without assistance again.
Apparently, nearly bleeding to death on a church floor does a number on the human body.
One of Stella’s daggers came dangerously close to a major artery, and according to the doctors, the blood loss alone should have killed me.
The fact that I survived apparently borders on miraculous.
But then again, that’s probably because my wife made some sort of bargain with the Almighty Himself to keep me alive.
If I’d known God was taking requests, I would’ve made her light a candle for herself.
Who’s protecting her now?
Who’s keeping the darkness in her mind at bay?
I know my wife. If the agony consuming her is even half as crippling as my own, then I know exactly where her intrusive thoughts are leading her.
If I didn’t know my wife was safely surrounded by her family, I would’ve already put a bullet through my skull just to end this misery.
“Matteo, please,” my mother insists softly, bringing me to the here and now. “Just eat. For me?”
“I’m not hungry,” I retort, pushing the soup bowl away.
Instead of witnessing the worried glance my mother throws at me, I turn toward the kitchen window, watching snow fall heavily against the glass while Christmas lights twinkle across neighboring buildings, wondering how the world can still look so festive when mine has completely fallen apart.
“You worry me, figlio mio.”
I turn my attention to her again, a hollow smile tugging at my mouth.
“I worry myself too.”
My mother places a hand over her heart as if she can somehow feel my pain inside her own chest.
“She’ll come back to us,” my mother says with a meek smile. “I know in my heart that our Anna will find her way home. Somehow.”
I wish I shared my mother’s faith, but she didn’t see the look in Anna’s siblings’ eyes that day in the church. Her family was never going to let her stay in New York with me. Which means Anna will never set foot in this city again. Not unless I bring her back myself.
But even then, we’d be no better off than before they took her.
We would still be at war.
Her family would still come for her.
On and on it would go. An endless cycle of violence that would only stop once one of us ended up in the ground.
No longer in the mood for dinner, I grab my cane and use it to push myself up from the chair, needing to walk off some of the anxiety clawing at my chest.
“It’s okay. I’ve got it,” I mutter when my mother rushes to help me.
Yeah. Stella really did a number on me.
The doctors swear I’ll eventually walk without the cane again. Apparently, all it’ll take is a few months of physical therapy and patience.
Patience.
Funny.
I’ve always considered my abundance of patience one of my greatest strengths. I waited years to exact revenge against the Outfit. Years carefully plotting my father’s demise. I built entire empires on patience alone.
Until Anna.
The second her family stole her away from me, I lost every ounce of restraint I ever possessed.
I don’t give a shit about physical therapy. I don’t give a flying fuck about any of it.
I just need my wife back.
That’s the only thing that matters.
I press a gentle kiss on my mother’s cheek and decide it’s time to have a talk with my brothers.
By the time I make it upstairs to my office, my left side is already throbbing from the effort.
I find Niccolò and Raffaele inside, while Rocco lounges across my sofa flipping through one of Anna’s favorite poetry books.
“Making yourselves at home?” I ask, drawing all three men’s attention toward me.
Raffaele is the first to cross the room and help steady me. He’s been oddly attentive lately. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think a guilty conscience was eating him alive.
“Do you want us to leave?” Niccolò asks bluntly.
“No. Stay,” I grit out, unable to mask the pain shooting through my left leg as I grip my cane tighter while Raffaele helps guide me across the room toward Niccolò. “One of us has to pick up the slack, seeing as I’m no longer fit for this job.”
Niccolò nods, his lips pressing into a thin line.
Ever since I saved Marcello’s life at that construction site in Queens, Niccolò hasn’t said more than a handful of words to me.
The only reason I know the fucker still cares about me is because I saw him completely lose his shit when our soldiers found me bleeding out on that church floor. Niccolò was beside himself, threatening to burn all of Chicago to the ground if I didn’t make it.
I was pumped so full of drugs and losing blood so rapidly that most of that night feels like a blur, but I remember hearing that much.
Niccolò might still be angry with me, but he’s still my brother.
He still cares, even if he doesn’t know how to show it.
Then again, Donato men have never been particularly good at expressing their feelings.
“Any news?” I ask after Raffaele helps me into the chair across from my brother.
Niccolò might as well keep sitting in my seat. I have no use for a throne if I don’t have my queen beside me.
“No. Nothing yet,” Raffaele answers, sadness clouding his expression.
“And what about what I asked you to do?” My eyes settle on Niccolò. “Did you at least handle that?”
His expression remains unreadable as he leans forward, clasping his hands together.
“I delivered your message. Whether your wife received it or not, we don’t know.”
Fuck.
“Not good enough, brother,” I snap. “Anna needs to know I’m alive. If she thinks I’m dead…”
A violent shudder works through me, the thought too unbearable to even say aloud.
“As I said, I delivered your message. Whether her father chooses to pass it along or not is out of my hands,” Niccolò states, though I can tell he takes no pleasure in admitting he couldn’t get my message directly to my wife.
“Then I guess that leaves me no choice.” I tighten my grip around the cane. “I’ll have to go to Chicago myself.”
That gets everyone’s attention.
“You can’t be serious,” Rocco exclaims. “They’ll kill you the second you set foot on their turf.”
“That’s a risk I’m more than willing to take.”
“No. We’ll find another way to let Anna know you’re alive. We need you here, not there,” Niccolò says in a firm, authoritative tone.
I smile faintly. “You handing out orders to me now, little brother?”
There’s no malice behind the words. I always knew Niccolò had it in him to lead. It just took me stepping aside long enough for him to realize it, too.
“Matteo,” he starts carefully.
I wave him off, silencing any arguments he can come up with.
“I know what you’re going to say, brother.
If I go to Chicago, I’ll have to do it alone.
No soldier is going to follow me on a suicide mission, and I’m okay with that.
” A tired smirk pulls at my mouth. “Besides, if I die, it’ll save us from going to war with Moretti.
” I turn my attention toward Rocco. “And I’ve grown far too fond of you to put a bullet through your skull. ”
“You wish, asshole,” he jokes, though sadness clouds his green eyes too.
“It will be a bitch sneaking into Chicago with this cane, but I’ll make the necessary arrangements and leave in a couple of days. You won’t have to do a thing to help me.”
In other words, when, not if, Chicago kills me, Niccolò won’t have my blood on his hands. And Moretti will never be able to claim my brother helped me escape my fate.
“No,” Niccolò says, stone-faced. “You can’t go. This city needs its Boss.”
“From where I’m sitting, this city already has its Boss.” My gaze locks onto his. “It’s just not me anymore.”
Niccolò’s armor cracks at that, his hand dragging through his dark hair as if trying to understand how I could give up my kingdom for an Outfit principessa.
But my Anna isn’t a one-in-a-million kind of girl.
She’s a once-in-a-lifetime kind of woman.
She’s more than just my wife. She’s the only beauty I see in this world.
Maybe one day Niccolò will understand how a love like that changes a man. How it shifts his entire world off its axis and forces him to see life through a different lens.
But until that day comes, my brother will never understand that what I’m doing isn’t a sacrifice.
It isn’t even a choice.
“I can talk to Moretti,” Niccolò says, making one last attempt to keep me here. “I’ll convince him not to tell the other Dons who really killed our father. I’ll make sure he understands. You’ll step down as Don, but at least you’ll keep your life… and stay here with us. With your family.”
“You still don’t get it, brother.” I shake my head faintly.
“There is no life for me without Anna. She’s my family.
She’s my whole goddamn heart. I’m nothing without her.
” Again, his brows furrow like I’m speaking a foreign language.
“Besides, you’ll make a far better Boss than I ever could.
Moretti will help you through the growing pains of learning the ropes while standing beside you during this war.
He’ll support you in ways he never supported me. ”
“He’s right,” Rocco interjects. “Dad will breathe easier with you at the helm and Matteo gone, unable to influence your decisions.”
“See?” I gesture between Rocco and Niccolò with my cane. “It’s a win-win, brother. New York gets its freedom and a Don worthy of leading it.” I let out an exhausted exhale. “I just want my girl back.”
Once Niccolò falls silent, some of the tension drains from my body. With no fight left in my brother, I push myself up from the chair and start toward the door.
Only I don’t get far.
Raffaele steps into my path.
“Don’t go,” he says quietly. “Don’t.”
“Is that concern I hear in your voice, little brother?” I tease light-heartedly.
His steel-blue eyes shine with unshed tears.
“They’re going to kill you. You won’t even make it to Anna. They’ll make sure of it.”
“Ah,” I murmur, cupping his cheek in my hand. “You never did have much faith in me, did you?” I let out a sigh. “The Outfit can bring its entire fucking army, and I’ll still find my way back to my wife. I will see her again, brother. Even if it’s only for one last time.”
Raffaele slaps my hand away and turns his furious gaze toward Niccolò.
“You can’t let him do this! You know what’ll happen if he goes. They’ll kill him!”
Niccolò says nothing. He knows I’ve already made up my mind, and that he couldn’t stop me even if he tried.
“Rocco, please,” Raffaele pleads, turning toward our other brother, even if he isn’t a Donato by blood. “Talk to your father. Don’t let Matteo do this.”
Rocco’s gaze flickers between the two of us.
“Sorry, kid. If that’s how he wants to go out, who am I to stop him?” He shrugs. “Besides, Matteo knows what he’s doing. And who knows? Maybe the bastard will even make it out alive. Miracles happen every day, right?”
When Raffaele realizes neither Niccolò nor Rocco is going to help him change my mind, his attention snaps back to me.
“Our mother will never survive this, Matteo,” he accuses, making one final desperate attempt to stop me.
“You’re wrong. She will survive.” I offer him a sad grin. “Our mother is stronger than all of us combined.”
“Don’t do this,” Raffaele pleads, sounding more afraid than I’ve ever heard him. “Don’t go. They’ll kill you.”
I place my hand on the nape of his neck and press our foreheads together.
“You know I don’t have a choice. Better than anyone else in this room, you know that.” My throat tightens around her name. “It’s Anna, Rafe. Anna.”
If there’s anyone capable of understanding the agony of being separated from her, it’s him.
“Fuck,” he chokes out, a tear sliding down his cheek. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
“Yes.” My voice roughens. “So much it hurts to breathe without her.”
“Yeah,” he whispers, wiping angrily at his tears. “I know the feeling.”
Despite everything between us, my chest aches for him too. Like Niccolò, Raffaele deserves love in his life. It was just bad luck he fell for the girl who was always destined to be mine.
“If you get yourself killed, I’ll kill you.”
A quiet laugh leaves me. “Hard to do if I’m already dead.”
“I’ll find a way,” he mutters thickly. “We Donatos always do.”
Truer words have never been spoken.
Yes, we Donatos always find a way.
And I’ll find mine back to my wife…somehow.