A Beautiful Crime (The Donati Famiglia #1)

By Analee Giancoala

1. Carina

CHAPTER 1

Carina

I have seen a great many of men who are good fall and a far too many of men who are evil rise.

I suppose when you live amongst evil it’s expected.

And you have no choice but to become the very same.

You can try to escape it. Try to release yourself from the barbed wire chains that sink into your skin, drawing the blood of all the innocence you once possessed with each twist and turn as you try to wrangle yourself free.

But as the blood spills around you, spilling the innocence until you’re hollow and devoid of light you become something else.

Darker.

Vicious.

Sadistic.

Remorseless.

Bloodthirsty.

You’re born again in the blood of everything that was once good.

A rebirth.

My younger brother had his rebirth at the tender age of thirteen but he was groomed for it from the moment he was born.

You see, for men it is different in our world.

You aren’t born to believe that the world is good. Or that the world is shared amongst all of us. Even the poor scrappers on the street who beg and plead for a meal to satiate their eternal hunger. You don’t see anyone as your equal.

You don’t even see people as people.

They’re all a means to an end. A piece on the chess board. Anyone can become disposable.

And what does one do when they can’t offer any more for you?

You see, my younger brother was taught to believe since he could utter his first word that the world is his for the taking.

So he grew with the mindset that there is nothing in this world that he can’t conquer. And he will bleed all of the people dry until his thirst for domination is sated.

Villains.

It’s exactly the type of person my brother is. The very same type that is my papa.

And I tried.

I tried not to become like them.

I grew up naively thinking that the world was good. They allowed me to bask in the light, feel the heaven upon my skin only to snatch me away and drag me down into the dark abyss.

But it’s time.

It’s time for my rebirth.

The cold metal lays awfully heavy in my hand. The taste of metallic filling my mouth as my tongue has gone numb from biting on it. There’s a rapid pace to my heart, beating too fast like a hummingbird's wings.

My hand trembles with the weight of the cold but not foreign object.

Sweat beads at the back of my nape and drips down my spine.

My hair serves as a black veil, covering my fear stricken face.

I swallow heavily but it’s painful. My mouth has gone terribly dry. It’s like swallowing sand, grating against the esophagus as the saliva forces its way down.

The plastic beneath my feet crinkles like paper as I take a hesitant step forward.

It’s the muffled cries coming from the gagged mouth that are the most deafening. They make my ears bleed. Only more blood spilt of my innocence.

Tears like a river flow wild and fast down my face. Too many to conceal. Too many to try and collect. They hit my chest as they flow down my face. The salt of my tears burns my skin. As it should. This is the last time my tears will ever have meaning. The last time I’ll cry because of my humanity. With each drop that hits my skin it’s like Holy Water trying to keep the monster from emerging.

Except it’s too late.

It’s always too late.

There is no saving.

There is no hero.

This is where I fall.

“You know what you must do, Carina,” my papa speaks to me in a soft tone that is not to be mistaken for kindness. I’ve learned at a young age it’s the soft tones one should be afraid of. The soft tone is meant to mislead you, to coax you into lowering your guard, to deceive you. It’s the soft tone that kills.

I squeeze my eyes shut, naively hoping it will get me out of this nightmare.

“Carina,” papa continues in that soft tone that sends ice down my spine. I stiffen. My muscles locked excruciatingly tight. I feel like I might snap.

The muffled cries grow louder. The stark contrast of calm from papa and the anxiousness from the young man tied down before me is disturbing.

It rattles me down to my very core. I suppress the shudder that wants to rack my entire body.

“He betrayed us, Carina. He’s a traitor. You know well enough what happens to traitors,” he tells me coolly.

I do.

I do know well enough what this means for the young man before me.

But I can’t comprehend why papa has me being the executioner.

Why must my hands be stained when he’s always kept them pristine?

Why must I have a rebirth?

And why must it be this way?

“Papa.” My lower lip trembles as my voice shakes. It’s a mistake that I can’t afford but with my mind under extreme duress I can’t think before my actions.

He inhales sharply. The sharp inhale is worse than his soft tone. The sharp inhale is the only sign he shows when his temper is flared.

When papa’s temper is flared he becomes more monster than man.

I have the sudden urge to flee. For my legs to carry me as fast as they can and hide.

“If you do not finish this, Carina then I will have to finish this for you. And if I have to finish this for you then that means I will be using another bullet,” he says it so casually. Talks of murder, of callously killing like he is discussing what to have for breakfast.

“Please, papa. Please,” I beg, well past in control of my thoughts and actions.

Another sharp inhale. It might as well be a knife digging in my flesh. “The Fiore’s never beg like dogs. I did not raise you to behave like one.”

“Yet you want me to be obedient like one.” It must be the fear. The terror that has taken root and bloomed inside me to make me defiant.

You see, I can’t stop myself. I can’t stop my thoughts from escaping my lips.

I have always complied with my papa because I feared his wrath.

Perhaps since I’m lost in my own fear my defiance is breaking through the surface. Cracking the docile woman he groomed me to be.

“I expect you to behave like a Fiore,” he corrects me. Papa loathes correcting others. He calls them dense. And if my papa considers you dense then you’re worthless to him and his Famiglia. “And a Fiore does not beg nor do they defend a traitor.”

“A traitor,” I echo, my voice rising with my uncontrolled anger. Another mistake. I’m consistently and effortlessly making mistake after mistake. “He’s my younger brother! Your son!”

“And a son he is no more.” His voice has taken on a hardened edge. Collected yet rough. Papa never allows his emotions to control him. He’s the master of dissociating himself from his humanity. I wonder if there is any humanity left to him at all. “The minute he betrayed the Fiore Famiglia he stopped being my son. He stopped being your mamma’s son. He stopped being your fratello. Elio Fiore is no more.”

My papa is emotionless. The execution of his youngest son by his eldest daughter is simply a business transaction. A means to an end. Something that must be done.

Whatever happened to redemption?

The same redemption we hear of every Sunday at Mass.

Whatever happened to forgiveness?

The same forgiveness I see those atone their sins for in confessional.

What is the meaning of any of it?

Of redemption?

Of forgiveness?

What is the meaning of God if he’s making me act like I have the right of who lives or who dies?

Why do I sit at our Catholic Church every Sunday and listen to our Priest give his sermon and then literally say to hell with it?

I open my eyes, the tears stained with mascara on my cheeks.

I look at my younger brother.

Full curly onyx hair with a natural cellophane of sapphire. Dark brown eyes that blend eerily with his pupils. Olive skin that is blemish free but has scars from serving for The Fiore Famiglia. A mouth that is gagged with a dark cloth and duct tape to keep it secure. A frame that is too broad and muscled for the cold unforgiving metal chair my papa has him expertly bound to.

I may not have agreed with what my younger brother has become. A man who is bloodthirsty and selfish. But he wouldn’t have become that man at all if my papa hadn’t groomed him.

He told him countless times how the world is his for the taking. How there isn’t anything he can’t have. All of the power could be his.

Papa made my brother greedy.

And with that greed came selfishness and an even bigger ego to match. And the three of them combined formed a deadly combination for my fratellino.

“There must be another way. There has to be another way,” I whisper to myself sadly but unfortunately my papa hears me.

“This is the only way,” his voice is harsh. I hear the crinkle of plastic growing louder as he nears me. My heart drops out of my chest and plummets to the very pit of my stomach.

He lays a gentle yet firm hand on my shoulder.

His fingers burn through the cloth of my blouse branding my flesh.

I feel his warm breath grazing the top of my head. I try to listen for his heartbeat but I’m met with silence.

Foolish of me, I’m aware but I had hoped to hear something to relinquish my fears. It only confirms what I have known all along.

Savio Fiore is only a shell of a man.

There’s no remorse.

No forgiveness.

He’s brutal and merciless.

Savio Fiore stopped being a man long ago and became something else instead.

Worse than even a villain.

And now he wants me to become just like him.

“Papa-”

“If you are about to defend him once more then you will join him,” he threatens me in that cool tone. I snap my mouth shut and bite down hard on my tongue. I will not make another mistake. Not when I have done so many in such a short period of time. “Your elder brother is right, Carina. You are a part of The Fiore Famiglia. Now you must do what is necessary to prove your loyalty to your Don.”

Luca.

My papa’s most trusted confidant. His underboss. His most proud achievement. The only time a shimmer of light enters papa’s eyes is when Luca bestows upon him another victory.

Luca is my papa’s most important piece on the chess board. Without him the rest will crumble.

But for Luca to want me involved with The Fiore Famiglia means he has another victory to claim. And to claim that victory he needs me on the chess board as a piece to move.

“But you’re my papa.” My heart is bleeding. The last of my innocence pouring out of me.

His fingers dig in my skin and I bite harder on my tongue to not wince. “I am your Don first and your papa second. This is an order from your Don, Carina. You will prove to me your loyalty or you will join him. Do not make me waste a precious bullet.”

Lifting his hand from my shoulder he then trails it down my arm. His hand grasps mine, the one with the gun shaking like a leaf in the wind in my hand. He raises my hand, working me like his very own marionette, and steadies my hand. Continuing being a marionettist he raises my opposite arm and places my hand around the cold metal, gripping my fingers on the handle, placing my finger gently on the trigger. As his final act he sets me up for the perfect shot. Aiming center on Elio’s forehead.

The crinkle of plastic returns as he takes a step away from me.

It’s abundantly clear what he’s doing.

He’s making this my choice.

To be reborn again or die.

Is there really a choice?

As I stare at my fratello with despair in my eyes and my heart down to its last drop of blood I can tell he knows.

And I don’t know what is worse, accepting the darkness or giving up.

Either way my choice has been made.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble the words so low that only I can hear. And I hope one day that Elio can forgive me. I hope one day that God, the one I believed in before tonight can forgive me.

I close my eyes as I pull the trigger.

The bang reverberates long after it’s done.

As I open my eyes my mouth falls open in a silent scream.

The haunted image of my fratello with his head blown open and his brain matter mixed with the brightest of crimson behind him will forever stay with me.

And I stare and I stare until my eyes go dry. Until I feel hollow inside. Until I’m standing in the blood of my innocence.

I’m reborn.

Papa pries the gun from my fingers and places it in his waistband.

He then stands before me, tipping my chin up so my vacant eyes can meet his.

“I believe you are going to be very useful to me, mia cara, Carina.” He smiles down at me proudly. The only time my papa has ever shown such strong emotion towards me.

All because now I will finally be useful for him. I will become an important piece on his chess board, just like Luca.

Any other time in my life I would have done anything to see my papa smile proudly at me. To gain his attention.

But not like this.

Never like this.

But what is done is done.

I made my choice.

I’ve had my rebirth.

And my papa and Luca had successfully done what they had planned for tonight.

I’m no longer the girl I was before.

I’m something different now.

Something else.