Chapter 23 #2
"Exactly. So, they assumed you were in your room. Resting. Like you have been for the past week." He pockets the phone. "As far as anyone knows, you never left."
"What about Igor?" I ask. "He saw her come in."
"Igor has been generously compensated to forget that." Marcello leans back. "He's also positioned to take over as Pakhan. He'll want to keep this quiet. No reason to stir up questions."
"Igor's competent," I say. "Fair. He won't start trouble." He's been waiting his turn, not quite undermining Alexei, but also, doing the bare minimum.
"Let's hope not." Marcello looks at Gemma. "How are you doing?"
She blinks. Surprised by the question. The realization hits hard, no one asks her that. Not Adrian. Not Luc. Probably not me, at least, not enough.
"I don't know."
"That's honest." He stands. "For what it's worth? Alexei was a piece of shit. The world's better without him. But—" He looks at both of us. "This doesn't happen again. We can't keep cleaning up murders that are unplanned."
She nods. I laugh. "Marcello, be fucking for real."
"About?"
"Cleaners exist for a reason. To clean up murders. I know you've been away for years, but do not be na?ve. There will be blood, as they say."
"You know what I mean."
"Do I?" I lean forward. "Because I need to know your head is in the game. You're my second now. That means when I need something handled, it gets handled. No lectures. No judgment."
He doesn't blink. "You know it is."
I lean back, take a beat. "Good." I wrap my arm around Gemma, ignoring how she tenses up. Alexei's murder broke the ice, but there's a lot of shit we need to work through. "Then remember who you answer to."
"I answer to you." His voice is hard. "But don't expect me to just roll over every time you make a mess. I'll clean it up. But I'll also tell you when you're being a fucking idiot."
I smile. "Fair enough."
Marcello nods, heads for the door, and then stops. "Saint. You should know. There's chatter."
"What kind of chatter?"
"Russian chatter. Some of Alexei's men aren't buying the fire story. They think it was an inside job."
"Do they suspect us?"
"Not yet. But they're asking questions. I don't have ins on the Russians, but I'm working on it." He looks at Gemma. "Stay out of Russian territory. Both of you. And hope Igor takes control fast."
He leaves.
Silence fills the apartment.
"He's right," Gemma says finally. "This was stupid. I was stupid." She lets out a shaky laugh. "Again."
"It was, but it's handled."
"Barely."
I sit beside her again. "But it's done, so we move forward."
"How? How do we move forward from this?"
I take her hand. "We lie low. Let Igor consolidate power. Let the Russians fight amongst themselves. We stay out of it."
"You think Igor will take over?"
"I do. He's smart. Connected. He knows the business." I squeeze her hand. "And he has no reason to come after us. Even if he suspects us, which I doubt, he's in charge now, and Alexei was not well-liked. I'm sure most of his men want to buy you a fruit basket."
She nods. But she doesn't look convinced.
"What?" I ask.
"I just—" She looks at me. "Why did you come? When I called. You could have left me there. Let them kill me. It would have solved a lot of your problems."
The question hits like a punch.
"You think I'd do that?"
"I don't know what to think anymore. You gave me to Adrian. Watched him hurt me. Let him disown me." Her voice is steady, but the words cut. "Why would saving me be different?"
I should deflect. Make an excuse. Keep the walls up like Antonio taught me.
But watching her fade away nearly destroyed me, and I'm done lying to her, and to myself. If we are going to move forward, we need to do it right.
"Because I was wrong."
"What?"
I turn to face her fully. The words are bitter on my tongue.
What I'm doing, right now, goes against everything I believe.
But I've watched what happens when my wife crawls inside herself, and I'll lay my fucking guts bare before I let that happen again.
"I was wrong to give you to Adrian. Wrong to think I could sacrifice you for the family.
Wrong to believe I could choose duty over—" I stop. Can't say it.
"Over what?"
"Over you." The words are hard. Heavy. "I choose you, Gemma. I should have chosen you from the start."
"Why didn't you?"
I cup her face. "Antonio taught me that love was weakness. That caring was dangerous. And I believed him for so long."
"And now?"
"Now I think he was wrong. Or maybe—" I trace her cheekbone. "Maybe love is dangerous. Maybe it is weakness. But I don't care anymore. Because when you called, when you needed me—" My throat tightens. "There was no choice. No decision to make. Just getting to you. Keeping you safe."
Tears slide down her cheeks.
"You really came for me."
"I will always come for you." I wipe away her tears. "Always. No matter where you are. No matter what you've done. You call, I come. That's how this works now."
"Even though I betrayed you?"
"You were surviving. Just like today." I lean my forehead against hers. "And I'll spend the rest of my life making up for the fact that you had to survive me."
She kisses me.
Soft. Tentative. Like she's not sure I'll kiss back.
I do.
Hard. Desperate. Pouring everything I can't say into it.
When we break apart, her tears flow harder.
"I love you," she whispers. "I know I shouldn't. I know you don't want to hear it. But I do. I love you."
The words should terrify me. A week ago, they did.
Now they just feel inevitable. True.
"I know." I pull her into my arms. Hold her tight. "I know you do."
I can't say it back yet. Can't give her those words when I'm still figuring out what they mean.
But I will. Eventually.
She takes what I can give. Buries her face in my chest.
And we sit there. Two broken people covered in invisible blood.
Holding each other in the wreckage we've made.
It's not forgiveness.
It's not redemption.
But it's something.
And for now, that's enough.