Chapter Sixteen
Chiara
A n entire day has passed since I’ve been reunited with my family, and still, nothing.
Nothing has settled.
The tension in the room has once again become thick as the men—Isaak, Alessandro, Papa, and Dario—continue to shout at each other. Though I am seated in the same room as them, their words are muffled in my mind, drowning beneath the waves of emotions I still can’t control.
I barely understand what they’re arguing about any more, and I don’t think I even care now.
It’s my fault that they’re arguing, because I was the one to bring up the twins, and Dario flipped.
He completely lost it.
Though Isaak has apologised countless times for the way I was…taken, there’s also something else there, something I can’t quite place. I’m not sure if it’s guilt, or something else entirely, but I know this situation is affecting him deeply.
Alessandro stands by, acting as the mediator though he is the Don of the Italian mafia, desperately trying to keep things civil, but even his civil demeanour is starting to crack. He keeps glancing at Papa, like he knows this situation can tip over at any moment.
Dario looks like he’s about to blow for a second time.
His jaw is tight, and his fists are clenched. His body is coiled like a spring ready to snap.
His eyes never leave Isaak, the man whose sons took me, and kept me here.
I know my brother wants to do something other than just stand here, arguing meaninglessly, but he’s managing to hold it together.
Barely.
I sit beside Papa, my head resting against his arm, his warmth soothing me.
His hands are firmly around either one of mine, like he’s afraid that I’ll slip away if he lets go.
He’s whispering soft Italian words into my ear, soothing me, even as the chaos around us only escalates.
“I am so sorry, Chiara.” Papa repeats for what seems to be the hundredth time today. I shiver, hearing the heavy emotion in his voice. “I should have protected you. This should never have happened.”
His fingers tighten around mine, and as he continues, I realise that he’s asking me for forgiveness.
I shake my head, tears rising to my eyes once again.
“This wasn’t your fault, Papa.”
I whisper brokenly.
He won’t hear a word of it.
“I promise, I will always keep you safe now, Chiara. Always. I swear it.”
Looking up at him, I nod my head, feeling my throat tighten with emotion.
Although I can’t find the right words to reassure him in the way that he’s reassuring himself, and also me, I know I don’t need to. I don’t need to say anything. Instead, I squeeze his hand, holding onto him just as tightly as he’s holding onto me.
“I know, Papa.” I whisper softly. “I know you’ll keep me safe. I’m glad that you’re here now.”
Papa murmurs more sweet words into my ear, and I find myself zoning out slowly, lost in the sound of his voice.
Their arguing fades into the background, their voices growing softer as my mind continues to drift. Though the anger in this room is overwhelming, and the tension is suffocating, it all feels like it’s miles away when I’m here like this with my Papa.
He wraps his arm around me, pulling me closer towards his body, as I rest my head against his chest. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek grounds me, and for a moment, I allow myself to be lost in him.
My father, who I thought I was lost to forever. His scent, so familiar and comforting, wraps around me, and in this moment, I allow everything around me to just fade away.
I wish that I can stay like this forever, safely tucked into Papa’s arms, where nothing can touch me, and where nothing else matters. But I know I can’t. I have to face this, and I have to do it in a way that doesn’t hurt my family, and doesn’t hurt them; Nikolai and Mikhail.
As Papa continues to hold me, keeping me close, the door to the room opens slowly.
I immediately tense, my heart beginning to race in my chest.
I hold my breath.
My body tenses.
I recognise that move—that quiet shift in the air.
Standing side by side, they both take a step inside.
Nikolai.
Mikhail.
I release a heavy breath, moving to sit up straighter on their sofa.
Now alert, noticing the three other men in this room with their own father, they shift slightly.
They take in the scene in front of them, and as they look between my brother and my father, the realisation hits them both at the same time.
Their faces harden, and their bodies become tense.
Slowly, they turn to look over at me, and as our eyes clash…I stop breathing.
“Don’t. Fucking. Look. At. Her!”
I shiver at the intensity of Dario’s words.
He doesn’t hesitate.
Before I can even blink, he’s storming forward, fury burning in his eyes.
I see the rage in him, the protectiveness he feels over me.
He can’t let them get away with this.
He won’t let them get away with what they’ve done.
But Alessandro is faster.
The man who’s been calm so far, the man who has been playing mediator all along, moves like a blur.
He stops Dario before he can reach the twins, his hand gripping my brother’s arm with an intense force that stops Dario from walking any further.
“Not now, Dario.” Alessandro growls, his voice low, yet also calm. “Do not make this any worse than it needs to be.”
Dario isn’t listening.
He says something to Alessandro, his own tone low as he spits the words into the Don’s face, but Alessandro’s grip only tightens, refusing to let go of my brother’s arm.
There’s raw tension in both men, and the way they're both glaring at each other makes it obvious.
I find myself trembling in Papa’s arms, feeling his grip tighten around me as the argument only intensifies. The shouting starts again, so loud and sharp, words flying in every direction.
Both Dario and Alessandro are yelling at each other too, their voices rising with every exchange.
And not for the first time, I’m thankful that my brother wasn’t able to be inducted.
I know that Alessandro is only allowing this to slip as Dario is speaking to him as my brother.
If this was a soldier speaking to his Don like this…
A shiver runs through me.
“Let go of me!” Dario finally shouts, his voice full of fury as he tears his arm out of Alessandro’s grip. “I’ll kill them for what they’ve done to my sister!”
Alessandro is back onto him in under a second.
“Enough!” The Don roars, his voice cutting through the chaos. “This isn’t the way to fix things.”
I feel like the room is closing in around me, the noise beginning to sound weird in my ears as I watch the scene unfold in front of me.
Papa holds me even tighter, and I can feel his pulse racing beneath my fingertips, but he doesn’t move.
He doesn’t step in.
He doesn’t stop the fight.
Everything is happening too fast, too violently.
This isn’t the way it was supposed to happen.
I can barely keep up with the bursts of anger, the harsh words that leave from their mouths now that all the men, minus Papa, are shouting at one another. The only thing I can focus on is the sound of my own heartbeat, now thudding in my chest, drawing out everything else.
My body shakes as I clutch onto Papa desperately, too scared to let go, and too scared to breathe.
I’m lost in this storm of men shouting as emotions run high.
“Stop!” I try to scream, but the word gets caught in my throat. My voice is nothing more than a whisper, barely heard over this chaos. I feel small in Papa’s arms, like I’m just a child, unable to stop any of this. “Just stop!”
I say, louder this time.
It does take them a little while to, but thankfully, they do.
They stop.
With all eyes on me, I feel smaller than ever now.
I force myself to take a deep breath in, and I stand up slowly from the sofa, feeling the weight of everything on my shoulders.
Papa rises with me too, his arm moving instinctively around me, pulling me close.
His body is solid against mine, as if he’s trying to shield me from everything that’s happening here.
It doesn’t matter to me.
This has been going on for far too long now.
I face the men—Isaak, Alessandro, Dario—and after steadying my breath—Nikolai, and Mikhail too.
I need them to stop. I need them to hear me.
“Please.” I beg them all softly. “Just stop. Just forget it. We don’t need any of this, not the anger, or the shouting…we don't need it.”
Papa shakes his head, wrapping both arms around me, holding onto me like I’m only a fragile doll.
He begins to speak again, his words hushed Italian murmurs, telling me that I’m only confused.
His voice is full of nothing but love, and fatherly affection.
I know he’s worried about me, but all I can hear now is the pounding in my chest; the sound of my heart racing as though it belongs to someone else.
To Nikolai.
To Mikhail.
My throat feels tight.
How can I explain it to Papa?
He would never understand.
Unable to stop myself, I turn my eyes back to them.
Both brothers are still looking at me.
Nikolai’s eyes narrow, his gaze possessive as ever.
Mikhail’s lips curl into a small smile.
They’re watching me closely, waiting for me to react, ready to take back what’s theirs.
And I feel it—just like I always do now.
That soft yet firm pull of their control, that heavy weight of their ownership.
“I’m sorry, Papa.” I whisper softly, my eyes locked on the two men who have captured my heart along with my entire being. “I’m sorry, but I’m not the girl I was before.”
My heart isn’t even mine to give any more.
It’s already been taken by them.
I can feel my brother’s fury before I even hear his voice.
“No!” Dario shouts, his voice a raw scream of rage. “They need to pay for what they’ve done to you, Chiara, you don’t know what you’re saying right now!”
I flinch, his words striking me harder than I expected.
The force of his anger cuts deep, but I can’t allow anything to happen to them; to Nikolai, and to Mikhail.
I need my brother to understand.