Chapter Sixteen #2
“No, Dario.” I say more clearly this time, my shoulders pushed back as I meet my brother’s eyes. “Nothing needs to happen.” My voice cracks slightly as I hold onto Papa tighter. “I’m happy with them.”
The words float around in the air, and I watch his face fall.
It’s like I’ve slapped him, and I feel the sting of it in my own chest.
It hurts me to know that I’ve hurt him, but I need him to understand.
I need him to see the bigger picture, to see that revenge won’t fix anything.
I need him to see that hurting them will only hurt me.
Dario stands frozen in his space, his eyes wide with disbelief, and I feel my heart break for him in that moment.
Still, I push forward, knowing that I can’t stop now.
I tear my eyes away to glance over at Papa, then at Alessandro, at Isaak, and finally, at the twins.
My gaze lingers on every single one of them, searching for something—anything—that will help me understand what’s happening.
When I find absolutely nothing, I know that I need to speak again.
“Please tell me the truth.” I plead with them all.
Nobody makes a move to speak, but from the looks on their faces, I know there’s something deeper happening here.
“You’ve all been arguing relentlessly, and yes, I'll admit that I was taken, but I don’t understand why it matters so much.
You’ve all been focused on arguing about everything else but that, so what is it that you’re supposedly so angry about? ”
I look at Nikolai, at Mikhail, at Isaak and Alessandro, at my brother, and finally, at Papa.
I need somebody to tell me.
I need to understand what’s happening, because I know this—me being taken—isn't the main focus any more.
Something else is, and I need to know what.
Papa’s body becomes tense against mine, the muscles in his arm hardening, his grip around mine firm, but also protective.
I look up, meeting his eyes, sensing the shift in his demeanour before I even see it. His jaw clenches, the veins in his neck protruding slightly as his anger builds. His eyes flicker over to Nikolai and Mikhail, then to Isaak, and I see the fury in them.
“Do you want to tell her, or should I?” Papa’s voice is low and guttural, and barely restrained. “How should we begin spilling secrets from our history, Isaak?!”
The room becomes deathly silent.
I didn’t expect this.
Papa’s words repeat in my head.
What does he mean?
Isaak breathes out sharply, the tension in his body unmistakable as his eyes narrow in Papa’s direction. There’s something cold about the way he watches Papa, his eyes sharp, and his jaw tight.
Like this, he looks so much like his sons.
Like Nikolai.
Like Mikhail.
I can’t help myself but look over at them both again, feeling my chest become a little lighter as my eyes remain locked with theirs.
Without saying anything, Isaak steps forward, his presence commanding full attention.
But before things can escalate, Alessandro moves swiftly, positioning himself in the space between Isaak, and Papa. His calm demeanour is a stark contrast against the storm that’s brewing in this room, but it’s clear that he won’t allow this to go any further.
At least, not yet.
“Enough.” The Don says to both men. “We can’t resolve this through violence. Let’s keep some space between us all.”
The tension crackles in the air, and I can’t help but tremble.
This is not what I wanted.
Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I try to steady my breathing, to make sense of everything that’s happening around me.
It’s no use.
Nobody is ready to listen to Alessandro.
His words fall on deaf ears as Isaak takes another step forward, his eyes locked on my Papa’s with a dangerous calm.
My heart hammers away in my chest as I tighten my grip on Papa, not wanting him to move any closer towards Isaak, and not wanting him to make this any more worse than it already is.
But Papa has already shrugged me off, leaving me standing alone as he too storms forward, his fury impossible to contain.
Even from here, I can feel the anger radiating from him, and I’m scared to see him like this—so lost in the role of the underboss he once was—and so scared to see what he might do next.
Dario crosses the room to stand beside me, almost protecting me from even more chaos that’s about to unfold before us.
He’s just as angry as Papa, his eyes locked on the Russian men, his fists clenched at his sides.
Though my brother’s presence is comforting, it doesn’t stop the fear that’s threatening to swallow me whole.
Opposite us, Nikolai and Mikhail watch my brother and I. Their eyes are on me, both their bodies tense, and their expressions are unreadable. Together, they both move in to be closer to Isaak.
Their silent warning is clear; they’re ready to defend their father no matter what.
And then, Papa shouts.
His voice is so raw, and his anger so intense, that I find myself flinching.
“Was it not enough for you monsters to take my wife, that you had to take my daughter too?!” Papa yells, his voice booming around the room.
His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I feel all the air leave my body.
“She has suffered long enough without her mother! Are you trying to break my daughter completely?!”
The room seems to freeze for a moment, Papa’s words so sharp and accusatory.
I want to say something—I want to tell him that I’m fine, I’m safe now, and I’m okay—but the lump in my throat makes it impossible to speak.
The tension is unbearable.
Papa looks at Isaak with pure disgust, and Dario is staring at Nikolai and Mikhail with such intensity in his eyes, like he’s ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.
All I can do is hold my breath, hoping that somehow, nothing else will escalate.
But in that exact same moment, the world seems to shatter all around me.
My father’s words echo in my mind, louder and louder, until they drown out everything else.
They took my mother.
It becomes hard to breathe.
They took my mother.
Surely it’s not true.
But as I force myself to look at Isaak, to see the heavy emotion in his eyes, and the tension that’s clear in his expression, I know it is.
They. Took. My. Mother.
The Russians…they’re responsible for my mother’s death.
The weight of it crashes down on me, and I feel a cold rush of horror spreading through my veins. My hands begin trembling, and I’m barely able to catch my breath as the truth sinks in, like a sharp blade that twists through my heart.
I hear myself whimper, the soft sound filled with raw, anguished emotion.
“Mama…”
I breathe out, my voice barely audible, like a prayer that’s been whispered into the air.
Dario’s arm immediately curls around me, pulling me into his side, hiding my face into his chest. My brother holds me tight, his embrace so strong and protective, but I can feel him shaking too, his own body stiff with anger and frustration.
He pulls us both backward, moving away from the devastation that has unfolded in front of us, and I let him.
Right now, I need the security of his hold, and the warmth of his presence.
I press myself into my brother’s chest, my hands trembling as I wrap them around him. Tears roll down my face, hot and fast, as the full weight of what Papa has said—the truth—continues settling over me.
I want to scream.
I want to fight.
I want to demand for answers.
But the pain of this all—of my mother, and of this situation—leaves me paralysed.
The world around me blurs into the background once more.
All I can think of now is Mama; the woman who had always been my everything.
That very same woman had been taken from me, by the very same Russians that took me too.
My body trembles in my brother’s arms.
Dario whispers something low into my ears.
His words are comforting, but I can’t really focus on what he’s saying—there’s a faint buzzing sound in my ears, a dull hum that grows louder as the chaos around me continues.
My mind is stuck, spinning, unable to process the words that Papa has just spoken.
They took my mother from me.
The Russians.
I can’t even wrap my head around it.
My hands shake, and I feel dizzy. My breathing becomes shallow as I fight to stay on my feet.
I try focusing on something—anything—but the only thing I can hear is the muffled voices of the men, their harsh words, and the beat of my heart.
Papa’s anger, his voice so commanding like it used to be back when we were in Italy, only makes my chest tighten.
My throat feels as though it’s closing up, and the tears won’t stop falling down my face.
I can’t think straight.
I can’t do anything but break away from my brother’s arms, pulling backward from him, forcing myself to meet their eyes.
I don’t want to look, but I can’t help myself.
My gaze flickers to Nikolai and Mikhail, and my heart stutters in my chest.
It feels as though time slows down, like every second is stretched into a painful eternity.
Their eyes lock with mine at once, and the raw intensity in both of their stares make my stomach flip.
Nikolai’s gaze is sharp, almost as if he’s seeing straight through me.
There’s something dark behind those icy blue eyes of his, something cold and calculating, but also something powerful too.
It makes my skin prickle. I can’t breathe under his stare.
His jaw is clenched tight, and although he doesn’t say a word, the pressure in the air around us is suffocating.
I feel like he’s crushing me with just a single look.
Mikhail’s gaze is different, but just as powerful.
He stands beside his brother, his posture relaxed, yet also commanding.
The faintest of smiles plays on his lips, and when he catches me staring, he winks in my direction.
His eyes flicker from mine, to Papa’s, then back to me, and I know that deep down, he’s thinking about what’s happening, and what’s to come.
I am too.
I can’t tear my eyes away from theirs.
My legs feel weak, my body suddenly heavy.