Chapter 30 Misericordia
Misericordia
“Leave him.”
I jolt awake. There’s an ache in my throat as I gasp for breath. My stomach churns and suddenly bile rises. A hand reaches for me as I stumble out of bed.
“Autumn?”
I slam through the bathroom door, not making it to the toilet as I puke into the sink. It’s not long before I dry heave, trembling as I clutch the marble. Nerves wrench at me, making me feel worse as I realize the truth. Cruel hazel eyes haunting me.
A hand touches my shoulder. I flinch, fumbling backwards. I flashback to last night, falling over the railing. My body feels confused on whether to puke or curl into a ball. I’m soon on the floor, panic gripping me.
Leo gently brings me into his arms, cradling my head against his shoulder as I try to stop the dry heaving that make my lungs burn. He strokes my back as I shake. Everything hurts as Leo tries to calm me.
“You’re safe, dear Watson.” His voice is tender. The man I heard last night long gone. “Breathe. You’re safe. I’m here.”
Tears fill my eyes as the trembling worsens. The constriction around my chest is painful, and I want to be sick again. “I have to…tell you something. I don’t…I don’t…”
“Shh, it’s alright.” Leo clutches my head, wrapping his other around me. “I’m sorry, I almost went too far. I shouldn’t…”
I shake my head. I never ever want to experience last night again, but it’s not what I care about right now.
It’s not what makes me want to scream. The potential betrayal gnawing at me.
The lies. Or perhaps he won’t believe me.
It seems ridiculous to even think it myself.
I begin to cry, wishing last night ended with us on that dancefloor. That we left.
How was all of this getting worse?
“Dear Watson, talk to me.” His voice is soft.
I swallow hard, clinging to him as I try to concentrate past the gnawing at my insides.
Finally, I whisper, “A woman found me in the villa…I thought it was Fiorella. I didn’t know she was…
was dead. She had hazel eyes. Told me to leave you.
” My face buries against his shoulder. “Said I didn’t understand your family.
Knew your name’s meaning. Like she knew you. I thought she was Fiorella…”
Agonizingly, so very slowly, Leo’s movements still. His breaths become shallow.
“Matteo was telling truth…what he knew,” I continue. “The Marchetti name…why they hate it. Why they haven’t…I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Shh, sweetheart, it’s alright.” He sounds calm. Too calm.
“They lied to you…your mother, I think she’s—”
He maneuvers me, then cups my face to bring my tear-filled eyes to look at him. His face isn’t as gentle as his voice, but contemplative as he looks over my features.
“All that matters is you,” he murmurs, wiping away tears. “My father could come back from the dead, I won’t care. If my mother has…so, be it.” The ache worsens. “All that matters is you. Only you, my dear Watson.” He kisses my cheek, and then the other. “Only and ever you, my beloved wife.”
I hiccup as he kisses my forehead, lingering there.
“Leo.” Confusion washes over me, not quite taking away the panic, but it does dim the anxious haze.
“I will prove that it’s only you.”
“You don’t…Leo, you…”
“To everyone else.” Those green irises flecked in gold meet mine.
He strokes my jaw, and then my hair as he roams his gaze over my features.
“What I am going to do will make my family the enemy. It may bring more danger, and there won’t be a reliable way out of the mafia, Autumn. But…I’ve had enough. No more games.”
I swallow hard and nod my head. I’ve decided time and time again it would be him I’d follow. Just as he’s willingly followed me.
“Only you,” I whisper.
“Are you sure?”
I nod.
He leans me back to his chest as I curl myself against him. We hold onto each other on the bathroom floor.
“My mother died when I was eleven.” A piece of my heart breaks at the defeat in his voice. “If that woman was her, she’s not my mother. Because mine would have never left me. Hid from me. Whoever she is now…isn’t my mother.”
He buries his face against my neck. Both of us quiet in the early morning before the rest of Rome wakes up.
I follow Leo into a church. His hand remains wrapped around mine as I glance at the simple brick before stepping into its brilliance.
It’s quiet. Tall pillars with gold at the top are there when you enter, leading up to a dome that I would’ve never noticed from the outside.
Intricate Renaissance paintings are everywhere.
A long aisle leads to the main altar, lined with plain, wooden pews.
It feels like the altar is a mile away. Candles are lit, illuminating the colorful space.
Our six shadows follow silently. I glance over my shoulder, all of them spreading out into a diamond shape.
Today has moved too quickly, and yet too slow.
Leo was on and off calls all day with Jameson, before having another one with the Crew.
He gave them all one last chance to leave, get out while they could, but of course they wouldn’t.
He had a similar meeting with Chiari. And then Mila.
Chess pieces were moving on our part to secure assets and partnerships before Leo would break from Renato.
The Salvadori and Luciano family would be split for the first time in a half a century, including the Marchetti family that was once brokered by his parent’s marriage.
Leo was even planning to cut Renato off from the mobs in New York, offering to replace him concerning business.
Overhearing his conversations with Jameson, we’d have to go slow to keep the hotel franchise and other businesses separate from the mafia, but it meant Leo coming out completely, and officially, as the Head Mafia Don of the Marchetti and Luciano family.
Most of that concerned partnerships across seas, which I doubt anyone argued given he was offering a bigger payout to turn their backs on Renato and Gabriel.
It just meant he was losing millions, numbers I didn’t want to think about.
He wasn’t just cutting family and alliances from his empire, but taking parts of theirs, too.
Now we’re in a church, late at night and I’ve no idea why.
A priest appears, and Owen walks past to talk with him. It’s not long before the priest gestures for Leo.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispers, kissing my hand and walks away. Animal, Igor, Michael, and Garett are left with me. The others disappear with the priest down one of the halls.
I pull my cardigan closer, moving my jean covered legs against the other.
I’m not sure when I’ll be willing to wear a dress again.
I stare up at the paintings, breathing in deep as I wander down the aisle.
I glance behind me, noticing Animal off to the side by a pillar, watching the entrance.
Igor and Garett are on the other side, closer to the pews. Michael trailing after me.
My fingers trace over the arches of the benches as I continue slowly.
No noise comes from me as I make my way to the altar.
Trickles of anxiety crawl their way back, to run from a place that feels too large.
Too big like I’ll be swallowed up. I stare at the sculptures, stopping a few rows away from the end.
Quietly, I move to sit in one of the pews.
It’s practically silent apart from small noises of feet down other halls.
Maybe the echo of a bird or mouse somewhere.
Oddly, that thought calms me a little as it reminds me of a certain mouse.
One who looked upon a tapestry, and how precious it was to him, along with a small abbey filled with creatures.
“I am that is,” I murmur, remembering the line.
After everything that’s happened so far, the chaos and pain, I wonder how Rome did it.
Go through so much carnage and destruction, almost erased and burned quicker than it was built.
Yet, here was this ornate, gorgeous work that still stands.
Parts of history that survived in every rock and stone.
Those places like the Coliseum. The squares and roads.
Churches, mosaics, and paintings. All preserved somehow through destruction. Rebuilt for…
“To use what serves us and rebuild new.” I snort under my breath. Well played, Dr. Maxwell.
Shoes scuff, and I glimpse over my shoulder as Michael quietly sits on a bench behind me. Animal has moved closer, sitting a few rows back.
“You think Claude Frollo is here somewhere?” I whisper.
“Wouldn’t he be in France?” Michael asks in a low voice.
I snort, then give him a faint smile. A smile tugs at his own lips, and I notice the bruising and scabbing beginning on his face.
“Thank you again, for last night, ma’am.”
I turn back to the altar. “He wouldn’t have…you know. He was just scared.”
“If that’s the boss scared, I never want to see him angry.” I snort. “But…I think I was scared, too, ma’am.”
My eyes go down to my hands. “Me, too.”
We’re quiet, and I hear small noises. The creak of a bench. Soft foot falls. Candles flickering. I breathe in what could be the last of peace I may know for a while.
“Ringer said you saved Matteo,” Michael murmurs, shifting in his seat. “Why? He almost killed you…again.”
“I’m gonna lose count on the attempted murder from my in-laws at this rate.” My voice rasps, touching my throat gently.
“Then why? Pity?”
“We all do things in anger and pain we later regret,” I answer, staring at a statue of a robed figure in blue.
“Sometimes it’s more blinding than love, cause you just…
hurt so much. You want it to end. Problem is when you come out of that haze you realize what you’ve done.
The consequences. Sometimes what you needed was mercy. To have anyone recognize your pain.”
Michael remains quiet, shifting in his seat that causes the wood to creak.