Chapter 37 Sera #2
She is unrecognizable. The cold, beautiful woman who has ignored me—despised me—my entire life, is a ball of heat and passion and fury that she can’t contain.
Even she’s caught off guard by her own vehemence.
I watch, stupefied, as she leans against the baseball bat and gets herself back under control.
“Renzo told me no,” she repeats. “So, I killed her. He wouldn’t return his toy, so I took it from him.
Broke it. Buried it here, at Daddy’s favorite spot.
Right beneath his stupid boat. Problem solved. ”
A burning sensation fills my throat and nose. Tears well in the corner of my eyes. Poor Rina. She didn’t do anything wrong. She didn’t do anything to deserve this.
I want to scream, to cry. For her, for her brother, her family.
Fuck it, for me, too. For being born into a family of vipers.
But breaking down right now is the opposite of helpful.
I swallow back my tears and look my mother in the face.
“But not exactly problem solved, was it? Because you and Renzo still owed Shkodra a woman.”
Her bark of laughter catches me off guard.
“A woman? Is that what those sad little girls were? Is that what you are?” My mother grabs me by my hair and tugs until it feels like she’s ripping my scalp off.
“You’re a plaything a best, a disposable toy at worst. Don’t for one second forget it, Serafina.
You’re nothing but what the man fucking you says you are. ”
“You should know,” I spit out. “That’s exactly what you were to Dad.”
Martina slaps me so hard I think my eyes are going to fly out of my skull.
I barely get my head back up before she does it again.
And again. Every time she hits me, I yank my arms down even harder.
By the time she’s done my ears are ringing and blood is running down my cheek, and there’s enough dust drifting through the air that the anchor must almost be free.
The beating is starting to take a real toll, though. My breathing is too shallow, my vision spotty as I get seriously lightheaded. My ears ringing at a piercing pitch every time Martina screams.
“Shut your fucking mouth.” Her spit coats my face.
“Vaffanculo! I should’ve let that filthy Albanian have you.
I thought killing you myself would make me feel better about everything, but you’re more trouble than you’re worth.
I’m done with you. I’m going to get Renzo back here, make him do what he should’ve done when you were born. ”
One of my eyes is swollen but that doesn’t stop me from blinking at her in confusion. “How are you going to get him back here?”
“Shut up.” She waves me off as she pulls out your phone. “No more talking.” She dials, waits for it to answer.
“You’re going to be waiting a long time,” I say. “He’s never going to answer.”
“I said shut up!”
“Don’t you know?” I spit out blood, watch with satisfaction as it splatters across her feet. “Renzo is dead.”
She calls his phone again, her face contorted in confusion. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s out there”—she points in the direction of what must be the road—“making his way back here. As we planned.”
“He’s dead, Mom. I watched Shkodra kill him, kick his body out of a moving car.”
“You’re lying.” She’s gripping her phone to her face, which has gone deathly pale. “He’s not dead. He can’t be. Renzo never got in the car. He was never supposed to be in the car.”
“But he was. He was in the car with me and Shkodra.”
“No!” she shouts. “He wouldn’t have deviated from the plan.
It was simple—Renzo gets you to the Albanian, the deal is done, our debt cleared, then he leaves.
I crash the car, killing the Albanian. You too, if we’re lucky.
But, if you survive, I bring you here for a little extra, cathartic fun before finishing you off.
Then Renzo and I vanish for good. Our debt wiped off the books.
We’re finally free. Of you, of this city. Of all of it.”
She’s staring at me, an unearthly gleam in her eyes. How this woman could have given birth to me, I’ll never know. “He’s alive, and he’s coming for me, and we’re free. Together, at last.”
“He’s not.” I tell her, praying I can manage one last tug. If I do it hard enough, I should be able to tear the anchor free. “Renzo is dead. You’ll never see him again. You’ll never be free of what you did.”
“Lies!” she screams at the top of her lungs.
“The truth,” I promise. The fire in my arms is almost unbearable, but I suck in a breath, willing my muscles to hang in just a little while longer. “Your life with Renzo is over.”
Martina’s retort is lost when the door swings wide, a new voice joining the mix. “It’s all over.”
Black spots are starting to blot out my vision, but I swear I see Alik step into the cabin, followed by another man. If I squint hard enough, I think I can make out two very large guns pointed at the back of Martina’s head.
“You die tonight, suka,” one says. He really does sound like Alik.
Then both men pull their triggers.