77. Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Mateo
M y blood roars in my ears as I storm out, Mariella’s words hammering into my skull with every step I take.
My father shot your brother.
I don’t remember reaching the hidden section of Carloso. Don’t remember firing up my Harley, taking the secret tunnel, or tearing out onto the road. It’s all a blur of rage and instinct.
My vision tunnels, my knuckles white. Every fiber of my being demands destruction, demands something, someone, to bear the weight of this fury before it eats me alive.
Antonio Accardi.
The rat.
Tiero and I have been hunting for months for this fucking traitor, never really considering it could be him. He was in line to become consigliere, for crying out loud.
He proved himself time and time again. And it was all a lie. He played us all along, scheming, lying, stabbing us in the back while we treated him like family.
Antonio shot Tiero.
It’s the worst betrayal of all.
Uncontainable fury detonates inside me, white-hot and all-consuming. My hands shake with the need to do something, anything, to make him pay.
And I will make him pay.
Just not yet.
If I go after him like this, I’ll make mistakes. I’ll be reckless. I need to think and plan .
I drag in a breath, trying to force down the rage clawing at my throat. But it doesn’t help. Nothing does.
I pull off to the side of the road, gripping the handlebars of my Harley like they might hold me to the ground.
I yank my phone from my pocket and scroll through my contacts, not even sure what I’m looking for. A distraction? A solution? A way to dull the storm in my head?
Nothing jumps out. My thumb hovers uselessly. I rub my eyes, exhaling sharply as I stare up at the sky.
As if I’ll find any damn answers there.
When I glance back at my phone, Valentina’s address stares back at me.
She sent it weeks ago, back when I first arrived in Rome. I never responded. Never even considered it.
But now?
Now I need something vicious, something that will make me feel like I’m in control again.
Maybe I can fuck this rage out of my system. With someone who can take it hard and merciless, not an innocent little virgin.
Before I can second-guess it, I’m on the road again. Not long after, I’m outside Valentina’s building.
My pulse hammers as I slam the buzzer. When she doesn’t answer within five seconds, I press it again and again, jaw clenched so tight my teeth grind. The door swings open, and there she is.
Sexy as always, Valentina’s eyes lift with surprise as she leans against the frame, dressed in something sheer and dark.
Good. Her perfect breasts are only inches away, her nipples already hardening. Her lips curve into a knowing smirk.
“Mateo,” she purrs, dragging my name out like a promise. “Finally came to see me? I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”
Her voice, it’s too high-pitched. It makes me hesitate.
She steps aside, inviting me in.
I should walk in. Follow through. That’s why I came here, isn’t it? To fuck her brains out, and mine. I should lift her onto my cock and plow into her like a frenzied animal.
But my feet won’t move.
I just stare at her.
And all I see is Mariella.
Not in front of me, of course, but in my mind’s eye. Her tear-streaked face. The way her voice cracked as she confessed her father’s betrayal.
She knew what our law would demand of me. And still, she chose to tell me.
Because she is loyal.
Because she loves me.
I exhale sharply and step back.
Valentina frowns. “Mateo?”
I shake my head, my anger shifting, morphing into something heavier.
“Forget I was here,” I say, turning away before I can change my mind.
“Mateo, where are you going? Come on in. You look like you need to get something off your chest. I can make you feel better. Mateo?”
I don’t respond. I get back on my bike and drive aimlessly, my mind blank, until I find myself at a park.
The park.
The place where I first stole Mari away from the world. Where she tasted cannoli for the first time and moaned in delight, completely unaware of how that sound made my cock throb.
I park the Harley and find the tree we sat under. Sinking onto the ground, I lean against the trunk, elbows on my knees, hands gripping my hair.
Mariella. My Mariella.
She was so damn brave. She knew what telling me would mean. And she did it anyway. I’m lost for words.
Her father didn’t just betray me and Tiero, he betrayed everything la famiglia stands for. Every move he made was calculated, self-serving, a direct insult to the loyalty that binds us.
He didn’t just gamble with power, he risked everything. The lives of every loyal soldier. But worst of all, his own family. The people he should protect and care for.
The thought ignites a fire in my chest. I want to burn something down. I want to destroy him.
And I will.
He’ll die slowly. Painfully. And that still won’t come close to the suffering he’s caused.
I know what De Marco law demands. But his family?
They don’t deserve to die for his sins. Killing them wouldn’t be justice.
Eliminating the perpetrator’s family was always meant to be a statement, a warning. After all, a man’s family is usually his greatest pride. Though not so in that traitor’s case.
I let out a long sigh.
So far my forefathers, and Tiero too, have ruled by fear. And it works.
Maintaining it is exhausting. It breeds resentment, not loyalty. Perhaps with me at the reins, it’s time for a new era.
Tiero’s words cut through the storm in my mind. ‘ Live for yourself, Teo. Not for the dreams of our ancestors. Promise me that.’
Upholding the law, wiping out an entire family for one man’s betrayal, would be living for someone else’s vision. Bloodshed in the name of tradition.
‘What do you really want?’
I never asked myself that. I followed the path laid out for me. Never questioned it. Never doubted.
But now? The answer is so clear it steals my breath.
One word. One person.
Mari.
I see her face before me again. Her trusting eyes, her tender smile.
I told her I loved her, yet the moment things got hard, I ran.
What kind of man does that make me?
I can’t imagine a world where Mari doesn’t exist. Where I don’t hear her voice or see her smile, where her heartbeat doesn’t sync with mine when we fall asleep, where she isn’t my light in this dark world.
I can’t imagine me without her anymore.
It’s not just love. Not just desire. It goes deeper than that.
She is my life.
And like I told her, she’s my past, my present, and my future. Everything is tied up with her.
And I want, no , I need to be the man she deserves.
A man who’s got his shit together. Who knows himself, and what he’s capable of. A man who rules by his standards.
And just like that, I know what to do.
The whir of the tattoo machine fills the otherwise silent room, a low, menacing hum that makes my skin prickle.
The sharp scent of antiseptic clings to the air as Angelo, la famiglia’s trusted old tattooist, leans in.
I showed up at his house twenty minutes ago and dragged him out of bed. He didn’t ask why, just nodded when I told him what needed to be done.
The cold swipe of alcohol against my skin makes my stomach tighten. My chest, bare beneath the harsh overhead light, rises and falls in steady, measured breaths. But it’s forced. Mechanical.
The needle hasn’t even touched me yet, but my body is already bracing for the moment it will. For what comes after.
The pearls of blood.
My fingers twitch, my jaw locks. I can already see it in my mind. The little beads, bright red glowing like neon lights. A simple wound. Harmless. But that’s never how it’s felt to me.
I will not flinch.
I clench my hands into fists, grounding myself in the rough bite of my nails against my palms.
You’re not a child anymore.
Angelo presses the stencil onto my skin. The roaring lion stares back at me from the mirror, fierce and untamed, enclosed by a laurel wreath for victory, honor, and strength. Below it, tomorrow’s date is inked in Roman numerals, the only addition to the authentic De Marco crest.
“Ready?” he asks, flicking the machine on.
No!
I nod sharply. “Yes,” I push out.
Then the first puncture.
A sting, sharp and quick. Then another. The needles drag through flesh, slicing deep, embedding ink. The pain is nothing. I barely register it.
But then…
Tiny beads of blood rise to the surface, dark against the ink. A slow, crimson bloom.
The room vanishes.
I’m a child again. Back at the pond. The hook buried deep. My hand. My skin. Stuck.
It won’t come out.
Blood. Red. So red.
Mamma . Papà . No help. No way out.
Alone.
Pain. My heart hurts. So much pain. Blinding. Taking over.
Mamma . Papà . Where are you?
Argh!
My breath shatters, ripped from my throat. Too fast. Too shallow. Can’t slow it down. Hands trembling. Useless. Weak.
I can’t stop it.
I can’t control it.
Breathe.
My pulse pounds. I swallow against the nausea, forcing my lungs to move in a steady rhythm. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Slow. Controlled.
You are here. You are not that boy anymore.
I force my gaze back to the ink, to the process.
I watch.
The machine hums, carving permanence into my skin for the first time. The sting builds. It’s hot, relentless. My muscles lock, but I don’t look away.
The past will not own me.
For years, Tiero was my shield, my safety net. When I bled, he was the one who stepped in, grounding me before I unraveled.
But he’s not here anymore.
It’s time I learn how to stand alone.
The ink sinks deep, marking me in ways beyond the skin. The laurel wreath wraps around the lion like an unbreakable vow.
You are not weak. You are not a boy anymore.
I clench my jaw, riding the sting, the burn, the steady rise and fall of my breath.
Angelo pulls back, wiping away excess ink and blood. The final design emerges, bold, unshaken, unbreakable.
It’s done.
And so am I.
Done letting the past hold me hostage. Done being the boy who flinches at the slightest presence of blood.
Tomorrow, everything changes.
But tonight?
Tonight, I became the man who lets nothing stand in his way.