Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Forever Cursed
Chiara
Have you ever felt like you were hovering above a scene so haunting that you could only conjure it in the worst of your nightmares?
I’m certain I was standing on solid ground, running to Arabella as she confessed to falling victim to the golden-boy lawyer just exposed as the worst kind of predator.
But now I’m not so sure. I’m heavy but also levitating.
As the pretty golden glow from the abundance of candles filling the room slowly turns to vicious red, all I can think about is the artwork we studied at college.
The Scream by Edvard Munch. Back then, our lecturer asked us to analyze the painting and appropriate it, so it related to a pivotal moment in our own lives.
This is it. Two years in the making and I’m standing in my version of The Scream. Throwing paint on the easel with each new sound and sensation.
Gray. The loud static of the video on the surround sound.
White. Collective gasps echoed across the large room as it was revealed that one of New York’s most revered entertainment lawyers is a sexual predator.
Black. Pitch black. The crack of the gunshot.
Red. The blood-curdling scream of the woman I’ve come to think of as one of my only true friends.
Red. The blood. Red. The frantic yells of Marco’s family and the men he calls his brothers.
Red. Code fucking red. My heart cracking as I watch Seb shattering like glass, kneeling over his best friend, pleading for Marco to stay with him.
Evie helping to pull his white dinner jacket and shirt clean off his body so he could press it to his wound to stop the life from seeping out of him.
Watching her comfort him with her caress on his bare back, never taking her eyes off her best friend, trying to calm her with positive affirmations while watching her clutch to the lifeless body of the man she loves.
Blue. The whooshing sound as I watch the blood turn those pure white clothes red.
Red. Red. I see red. On Sophia’s hands. Dulling the sparkle of her gown.
Dulling her sparkle. Her uncontrollable sobs slicing through my chest.
Silver. The flurry of people rushing around me, out the door. To me. White. I’m trying to get oxygen. It’s not reaching my lungs. Black. Black. Black. Eyes closed. No oxygen. Take me away.
I can’t breathe; the people around me feel like they’re beneath me. I don’t feel like I’m here anymore. My eyes get heavy. The room is spinning now.
“Chiara. Breathe. Chiara, listen to me. You need to breathe. Inhale, one, two, three, four. Exhale, one, two, three, four.”
I can hear his words, but I can’t follow his commands. There’s a roadblock in my throat. I feel like I’m choking on my tongue. On my tears. On my confessions. On my lies.
His big body shields me from the devastation in front of me.
“Angel, look at me. Listen to my voice.”
Angel. I snap my eyes to his, dark and silken like chocolate coverture.
He brings his face closer.
“Forget everything else. Just focus on my words, on my touch, on my eyes. Don’t try to look away,” he commands, refusing to let me turn my head when I go to look at the commotion playing out ahead of me as sirens blare and the clatter of medics running into the room adds to the swirl of chaos.
Big, strong hands on my face. Warm, calloused thumbs caressing my cheekbones.
Yellow.
Raf.
“That’s it. Good girl. Breathe with me, Chiara. Inhale, one, two, three, four. Exhale, one, two, three, four. And again. Yes. Just like that. He’s going to make it. He has to fucking make it.”
The raw emotion in his voice is my undoing.
I crack. The sound that leaves me is deafening even to my own ears as I collapse into his strong chest, sobs wracking through my body at the realization that the stench of death follows me.
Raf holds me like I’ve wished for every day since he cradled me in the back of his car that night.
I don’t deserve his comfort. Don’t deserve to be saved from my panic.
I earned the searing pain of agony that slices through me. Black. Black. Black.
I did this. I brought the reaper to Marco’s door.
If Raf despised me before, it won’t hold a candle to the ire he’ll feel when he learns my secret.
The ugly truth settles deep in my bones—just like this fucking curse I can’t outrun.
Trapped on the fringes of chaos and in the spiral of my own panic, I lost track and sight of everyone else.
I’m certain they’re all on their way to the hospital, but after Raf managed to get my breathing under control, he entwined his fingers with mine and hasn’t let go of my hand.
I wish I could ride the wave of euphoria this moment should bring, the feel of my small hand cocooned in his large one.
Calloused. Strong. Safe. But the sense of peace his tenderness provides is fleeting.
The happy ending where I get everything I ever dreamed of is just not the way my life goes.
I’ve learned time and time again that the tradeoff for the desires of my heart is losing another piece of it to whatever misfortune lies in wait in the darkness.
I look at where our hands are connected, his grip firm and possessive.
It dawns on me—I’ve deluded myself. Again.
This is not caretaking but a deliberate move to ground me.
Literally. To stop me from taking flight.
Could he sense it? The way every fiber in my being begged me to get out of here.
To make a run for it and take my bad blood as far away from these good people.
A family of big-hearted souls who welcomed me into their group effortlessly.
Taking me in like a stray dog that turned up uninvited, offering me the camaraderie, care, and unconditional love—showing up for me, a virtual stranger, the way they turn up for each other.
The way I longed for my own family with the privilege not to have met their fate yet to show up for me.
If we don’t love when we’re alive, what’s the point?
And how do I repay them? I bring the stench of death to their doorstep. Even if I try to outrun it, its claws are never far.
Run. I need to run.
I guess when all you know is bloodshed, tragedy, and double-crossing, you do as you know. What Raf said in the car earlier replays in my mind. He’s got my number, knows I’m keeping secrets. Just how many and which ones, I can’t tell.
I need to disappear before I can cause any more damage.
And yet I let him lead me to the car like he’s leading a horse to water. The way you led whoever the gunman was to Marco, the nasty voice in my head echoes back.
It was too late to stop the bloodshed, but maybe I could prevent the impending implosion that will follow if I let this secret out of the genie’s bottle.
Run.
That’s what I need to do. Head back to Los Angeles, stay with that hair and makeup artist I met there, get as far away as possible as soon as I can before AJ comes back to New York.
But my body feels too heavy. I feel Raf’s hand at my back and the other on top of my head, urging me to duck and get into the car.
I comply, and when his driver slams it shut, I finally come to.
I was awake but not in my body. The back seat feels too small, and I reach for the door handle ready to make this right, except it doesn’t budge.
I wiggle it, and it dawns on me there’s no way I can escape.
I’m hit with Raf’s rich, expensive cologne as he reaches over and puts my seat belt on.
“Don’t even think about it,” he says. “We need to get to the hospital. Everyone else followed the ambulance there.”
I look at him, and whatever he must see on my face gives him pause.
“I think you need to see someone as well, Chiara. You almost blacked out in panic. Is that what happened that night at Bella Donna too?”
Tears well, and I don’t stop them from spilling over.
“I’m broken, Raf. There’s no fix for me. It’s just the way it is. Even when I think I’ve turned a corner, found a ray of hope to hold onto, the heaviness finds me and suffocates me.”
He clenches his jaw, brows furrowed. Like he wants to refute what I’m saying, but also how can he refute the shit show that has ensued since I turned up.
I turn my face from his to look out the window, watching the way the light distorts as we speed to the hospital. Red. Silver. Blue. Bright white light.
Raf’s ringtone slices through the deafening silence.
“How is he?” I hear Raf say in the background.
“Fuck,” he exhales raggedly. “Yeah, we’re just pulling in.”
The heat is on, but chills have broken out on my body.
“Chiara. Chiara.”
I turn my eyes on Raf. He’s right there, but his voice sounds tiny.
“AJ is on his way back to New York. He doesn’t want you to leave my sight. Okay?”
I’m looking at him, and my answer must be written over my face like a billboard.
He grabs me by the jaw, making sure all I see and hear and smell is him. Invading my personal space like he did earlier, this time red-hot emotion fueling him.
“Don’t even think about running, Chiara,” he growls.
“My best friend is fighting for his life. There’s a fucking gunman on the loose, not to mention your Mafioso cousin explicitly outlined how he would deal with me if you’re not here when he gets back.
” His Adam’s apple bobs violently. “The last thing any of us needs is more blood on our hands.”
His voice is low and gravelly, and I don’t know if he realizes it’s too late. The words land like a bomb, stunning me out of my fog.
My door is flung open and then with my hand in his, Raf and I run towards the ER, skidding into a room where we see all our family and friends huddled, clinging to each other, watching the nightmare that is their son, brother, and friend fighting for his life.
It’s all a cacophony of sounds—clanging of metal, the scream of sirens, and the raised voices of medical staff shouting orders and questions.
“Any family or friends here we can test for a blood type match? There’s no time to wait; we need blood now.”
That’s the only thing I hear with resounding clarity, even if it sounds like there’s cymbals clashing in my ears. If I answer, I know there’s no going back, and everything will unravel. But if I stay quiet, his blood will stain my hands. It will make me the murderer. Again.
So I do the only right thing, praying it will be worth it to save his life.
“Test me. I’m his first cousin on his biological father’s side.”
Every single set of eyes turns in my direction, and I imagine this is what it feels like to be standing in front of a firing squad.
Then the buzzing in my ears becomes piercing, and the bright lights overhead become blinding, my legs starting to buckle as waves of relief and remorse wash over me in the wake of my confession and revelation.
I stumble sideways towards the wall, bracing my hand on it to stop myself from crumbling to the floor.
I feel nauseous, like I want to purge everything in my stomach in a hope that I could rid myself of all events that have led to this moment right here.
Strong hands grab me and lead me away.
“Miss, we need to get you hooked up immediately.”
I don’t fight, and I don’t look back as the medical staff lead me away to drain me of the blood that runs through my veins like a ruinous poison. And yet, maybe it will save his life and offer me a sliver of redemption.
Only time will tell.