Chapter 5 #2
"Let's get you cleaned up," Raf said, wrapping an arm around Damien's shoulder and helping him through the crowd.
I took the lead. The sea of people immediately parted, clearing a path for us.
As we walked, Damien laughed and bumped fists with a few spectators who managed to push their way close enough to congratulate him.
I shot the spectators a warning look, and they immediately backed off.
Marcio and Leo stood guard outside the medical room while Raf and I cleaned Damien up.
The second the antiseptic touched his cuts, he hissed. I laughed right in his face. "You almost get beaten to death, but this is what fazes you?" I mocked.
Raf snorted and fist-bumped me.
"Haha," Damien deadpanned, glaring at both of us.
We cleaned the dried blood from his face and knuckles before Raf got to work stitching the cut above his eyebrow, the gash on the back of his head, and the split along his ribs.
Damien clenched his jaw so hard I thought his teeth were going to crack.
Not once did he complain. I had to give him credit. He took it like a man.
By the time Raf finished patching him up, Damien was left with a swollen black eye, bruises stretching across his cheek, neck, and ribs, and raw, bloodied knuckles.
Mom was going to kill me. Then she was going to kill the rest of us. There was no hiding this. The plan to keep tonight from our parents had officially gone to hell.
I sighed as I pulled the SUV onto the road. The ride home was unusually quiet.
Damien sat in the back seat, staring out the window.
"So..." Leo finally broke the silence. "How'd it feel, bro?"
Damien looked over at him. The corner of his mouth twitched before spreading into a grin. "A rush," he admitted. "I've never felt more alive in my life."
I could practically feel the excitement radiating off him. The darkness inside him had finally been unleashed.
Something Pops had always warned us never to do. The Basilio curse.
Tonight...I had seen it with my own eyes. I wasn't shocked. This was exactly what our fathers had spent our entire lives preparing us for.
Instead...I found myself intrigued.
Maybe...It wasn't a curse after all.
Maybe it was who we were always meant to become.
By the time we pulled into the estate, it was just after four in the morning.
The mansion sat in complete silence.
Only the guards patrolling the grounds were awake, rotating through their overnight shifts.
Marcio climbed out of the SUV and glanced over at Damien, who was still sporting a black eye and enough bruises to tell tonight's entire story. "I'd prepare for hell to break loose tomorrow," Marcio muttered, clapping Damien on the back.
Damien winced.
"When our moms wake up and see you, we're all fucked." Leo laughed.
"He's not wrong." I let out a long sigh. I wasn't looking forward to facing Mom... or Aunt Yana... or Aunt Leena. Hell, none of us were.
I looked at the four of them. "Get some rest, boys. We've got another full day ahead of us tomorrow."
They all nodded. "Night, Boss."
"Night."
"See you in a few hours."
We split off, each heading toward our own rooms. Just as I reached my bedroom door, Damien called after me.
"Hey..."
I turned around. He gave me a small, genuine smile. "Thanks... for letting me do that." I returned the smile and gave him a single nod. "Anytime, little bro."
He disappeared down the hallway.
I stepped into my room and shut the door behind me. I didn't even bother changing. I collapsed onto my bed still wearing my suit, my dress shoes, and my watch.
The second my head hit the pillow...everything went black.
Three hours. That's all the sleep I was going to get before doing it all over again. Being the Boss wasn't nearly as glamorous as I'd imagined.
~***~
Matteo Pov~
"If I want to avoid killing someone important, I need to leave."
I stood outside the Basilio estate, staring at Anthony.
"It's imperative that you feed me every single piece of information you uncover. I don't care how small it seems. If you hear it, I hear it." My voice left no room for argument.
Anthony gave a firm nod. "You have my word."
Luca and I had cut our trip short. There was no point in staying. Not when every person inside that mansion made me want to put a bullet between their eyes.
I wasn't stupid. If I stayed another day...someone on that council would end up dead. I reached out and shook Anthony's hand. "Be careful."
"You too, Matteo."
With that, Luca and I climbed into the waiting car. "Airport," Luca instructed the driver in Italian. The driver nodded once before pulling away from the estate.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes. The silence inside the car was suffocating.
Finally, Luca glanced over at me. "You sure you're doing the right thing, Matteo?" he asked quietly.
I stared out the window as the streets of Italy blurred past. "No."
I clenched my bruised hand into a fist. "But I'm doing the logical thing."
~***~
As I pulled into the estate, I let out a weary sigh.
It was only eight in the morning, and no one was expecting us back this soon.
Especially my son.
Andros and Clara were locked inside the Femara beneath the warehouse. I'd deal with them later.
Right now, all I wanted was to find my amore, throw her onto our bed, and make up for every minute we'd spent apart.
I missed her. I couldn't stop thinking about her warm chocolate-brown eyes... her soft lips... the curves of her body that fit perfectly against mine. I groaned under my breath as I climbed out of the SUV.
Giovanni was already out of the vehicle. He hadn't said more than a handful of words during the drive home. He needed Leena.
After everything with Clara...he needed his wife.
I caught his eye and gave him a silent nod.
Go.
He returned it without a word before disappearing into the estate.
I climbed the front steps, acknowledging the guards stationed at the entrance before pushing open the doors. The moment I stepped inside, I heard my amore's voice.
Only...this wasn't her gentle voice. This was her furious voice.
"DAMIEN DAX BASILIO!"
The entire estate practically shook from the force of her yell. I blinked before following her line of sight. Standing frozen in the dining room doorway was Damien.
His face was bruised. One eye was swollen nearly shut. Fresh stitches ran across his forehead. His knuckles were scraped raw, and he looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a freight train.
I slowly turned my head toward my son.
Then toward the rest of the boys.
A.J.
Marcio.
Leonardo.
Raf.
Every single one of them suddenly found the floor extremely interesting.
This was not how I wanted to spend my morning.