Chapter 23
Dario “Dash” Mangiacavallo
Distant beeps echoed from somewhere far away, each one louder, drawing me out of a dark, thick haze.
The clearer they got, the more that fog thinned, bringing a bit of clarity to my brain.
Unfortunately, that brought some of the worst, most agonizing pain I’d ever felt in my entire life.
This was bullshit! Flat out disrespectful.
A tiny hand was clenching mine, a weak sob breaking through the deafening silence clogging my ears. My face scrunching from the pain, I sucked on my teeth and clenched my eyelids. Hearing Violetta crying was far worse than any physical anguish I could suffer.
“Hey,” I croaked, my throat dry, my voice gravelly. “Hey, wachoo crying for, girl?”
She sucked on a gasp and sat up, the feet of a chair scooching closer to the bed.
My sight not fully functional, I could only see her as a blob of colors, leaning over to tap a button on the wall that flashed a bright light over us.
Groaning, my arm lifted to shield my face, the intrusion like a scalding hot knife to my skull.
“Dude, what the fuck?”
“Oh, my god, you’re awake.”
My lips chapped, I licked them and then coughed, but that only irritated the wounds, causing even more discomfort. “Oh, shit. Where’s the morphine? Dude, get the nurse, this ain’t right.”
Her gentle pets to the side of my face brought some comfort, as did the faint kiss she pressed to my forehead. Unfortunately, she rested hers there and bumped my nose, which triggered another grimace. “You’re awake. Oh, my god, you’re awake.”
“You think a couple bullets gonna take me down? Please, I’m invincible.
Ish,” I added under my breath, truly believing I was dying on that hearth earlier.
I had felt the life oozing from my blood, knew I was seconds from death.
Knowing where Jackyl was headed, however, I had forced myself to not give up, to tap into some deep-rooted willpower I’d not known existed and got up.
I couldn’t let him kill Vincent or Violetta.
She giggled and sat down, swiping her cheeks dry.
Everything inside sank and turned cold, chilling my core. Gazing into her light blue eyes, I whispered, “He dead?”
She flinched and nodded, bowing her chin. “Yes, he’s dead.”
The agony shifted to something time would never heal and scars would never buffer.
I looked up and then off to the side, my chin shaking, my nostrils flaring.
Emotions rising, my throat constricted with an actual sob.
No matter how many days we sat in that house, waiting, planning, nothing could prepare us for actually killing the man we all loved so much.
“Shit,” I wheezed, rolling my head away to dig my thumb and fingers into my eyes.
“Shit!” I yelled a little louder, the sob breaking free to lurch my whole body.
Jesus fucking christ, why did this hurt so much worse than Mary?
My friend, brother, and mentor was gone.
He betrayed us all and we had no choice but to take him out to survive.
Nothing was okay! This was all fucking wrong!
She started weeping, as well, sniveling and hiccupping on jagged breaths. “I know, honey. I know.”
“What are the cops saying?”
Like she always did when she was anxious, she began to fidget, trying to smooth a wrinkle on my hospital gown.
Clearing her throat several times, she sniffled before answering.
“Um. I…I told them I had left him, didn’t say why, and you guys were hiding me out, and he found us. That’s pretty much it.”
I gently cupped her elbow, my thumb stroking side to side. Gulping several times to compose myself, my tone was raspy with sorrow. “And the gang?”
“Same thing. They think he snapped and lost his mind because I wanted to leave.”
“And why did you leave, what are you telling them?”
Sniffling again, she sat up and rubbed her nose. “Well, I’ve only spoken to Wads and Einstein, but I, uh, ahem. I told them small truths. That I found out what he did to Tyler when we were kids and that he used to drug me and…rape me.”
“Shit.”
“I asked them not to say anything to anyone else right now, because, I mean, I’m only like eighty percent positive about the one time, but…” She shuddered so hard, her teeth clanked, her sight flitting to mine. “If he did it that one time, why wouldn’t he do it all the other times he drugged me?”
I tried to brush the hair off her brow, but the I.V. pinched, constricting my movements. “I’m so sorry, Tiny.”
Nervously nodding and coughing, she averted her gaze, her shoulders shaking slightly.
“I saw the signs, Dash. Even when we were dating, but.” Her shoulders rolling, one side of her face scrunched.
“He was all I had back then. If I had paid attention and walked away, I would have been all alone and…I wouldn’t have survived,” she whispered.
Her back straightening, a trembling hand combed through her tangled locks.
Wincing for some reason, she quickly put both hands on her lap and deflated.
“I just figured if we got married, things would get better. Then I thought if we had kids, I’d be too busy to think about Tyler and… ”
My eyelids rounded and I stopped breathing, everything inside sinking into iciness. “Bitch. Oh, shit. How are Vin and bitch?”
She grinned and playfully pinched my arm. “Would you stop calling him that? Jeez, Dash.”
“What, it fits, he accepts it…he’s my bitch.”
“Your bitch. You almost sound like you like him now.”
Twining my fingers with hers on my chest, I heaved a sigh, ashamed of the relief that was spreading through my system that everything was over, Jackyl was gone, and I was now allowed to like Tyler.
“Kinda hard not to. He’s kind of a solid dude, ya know?
” Rolling my head to face her fully, there was a hint of trepidation that she didn’t exactly answer my question. They were okay, right?
The very notion that Vincent was not alive and going to be one hundred percent okay had my soul on fire, panic rising to clench my bones. “Are they…”
“They’re fine. Vincent will be released in the morning, but you and Ty are here for a few more days.”
My lashes fluttering closed, a long, husky groan poured out of my chest, releasing all that dark, scary energy. My muscles sagging, I whispered, “Jesus, fuck,” and brusquely rubbed at my face. “So, it worked.” My palm slapped to my chest, my attention returning to her. “Our plan worked.”
She nodded stiffly, back to fidgeting with that wrinkle. “Yup. Like a charm. Jack is…dead,” she squeaked, her eyelids clenching. “And we all look like victims.”
For a moment, I had to wonder if she would ever truly heal from this.
Obviously, there would always be a soft spot for him; the love had been real, regardless of how manipulated it had been on his part.
She had fully loved that man. They had a good marriage, at times, and two amazing kids.
That part that loved him would never heal, that was a given.
It was the mental glitches he planted in her psyche to groom her to be his that had me concerned. Would she be able to work those out of her thoughts and think normally where he was concerned, or would she always be in denial about him preying on her at her most vulnerable time in life?
A finger hooked, I tucked it under her chin to force eye contact.
“Hey. We were, Tiny. I know you loved him. Hell, I did, too. But something wasn’t right up in here,” I offered quietly, tapping my temple.
“None of us was safe. Christ, the kids wasn’t safe.
We did what we had to to survive, don’t you ever forget that, hear? ”
Pulling a long, ragged breath through her nose, she held it, her chest puffed out. Her throat constricting a few times, unshed tears welled in her eyes, the tip of her nose turning shiny and red.
A soft knock on the door interrupted us, thankfully, because I was not mentally or physically prepared for her to break down right now.
When I was out of this hospital, maybe. Maybe not.
Hearing that woman cry was one of my vices, sharp talons clawed at my flesh every time.
Thankfully, she was a bad ass woman, and crying was a rarity for her.
“Mrs. Bianchi?”
She cleared her throat and sat up straight, tucking hair behind her ears. “Hm?”
“Ready?”
Suddenly, her entire demeanor changed, and she practically beamed ear to ear, the tears fading. Turning to face me, I grew very suspicious, my attention bouncing back and forth between her and the nurse.
“What’s going on?”
She rose to her feet and scooted the chair to the corner, the nurse pushing the door all the way open and locking it in place. She slid her hand into mine once more and patted the back. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Yeah? What?” Well, goddamn, I could use a surprise. Anything to lighten this dismal weight on my chest.
A male nurse was walking backwards into the room, tugging another hospital bed with him. When he pulled it to the side to round the foot of my bed, my jaw fell and the excitement fizzled. Tyler was lying in it, groaning as he slowly pulled out of what appeared to be a drug induced sleep.
“What the…”
“Since you and him are such good friends now,” she teased, hiding a mischief smile behind a fist. “I asked them to put you two in the same room together. No sense in paying for two rooms and being bunked with strangers. At least this way, we only get charged for one, and your roommate is someone you like.”
“It’s bitch!” I argued, swinging my arm just to cry out when the I.V. pinched.
She was smiling ear to ear, her hips swaying back and forth.
Tyler’s features scrunched and he groaned, his eyelids squinting to peek around. “What the…” His head lifted off the pillow, saw me, and his expression fell, his sight darting to her. “This is where you moved me to, Letta?”
With another mischief giggle, she bit down on her bottom lip, a blush rising to her cheeks.
“Oh, hell, no,” he shouted, trying to sit up. His face contorted in pain and an arm folded around his chest, causing him to fall back to the mattress, hissing through gritted teeth. “Put me back,” he croaked, his tone husky with anguish.
“Sir, we’ve already promised that room to another patient.”
“Then put me in the fucking hall.”
“Sir, there’s no need for that language.”
“Letta, do something. Don’t let them put me here.”
“Save your breath, bitch. She asked for this.”
He did a doubletake, gripping the raised railings. “Why would you do that? Uh uh. I want somewhere else. Anywhere.”
Sinking back to the chair and crossing her arms, she fell quiet while me and Tyler bickered back and forth.
Every now and then she would giggle, which would encourage me to argue more.
After a few minutes, Tyler picked up on things and egged on the playful banter, as well, just to keep hearing that adorable little snort giggle.
In my heart, it was a sign that one day she would be okay.
Jackyl wasn’t going to destroy us as he wanted.
We were going to be okay, we would survive his wrath.
Hopefully, with time, even little Eddie and Edwina would learn to forget their biological father and see the bitch as their dad.
As much as I hated to admit it, he would be a hell of a lot better parental figure than Jackyl ever could.
He would never hurt them or their mother. He would never threatened them, put them in a state of fear where they had to worry about their safety. They would be worshipped and taken care of, far away from any memories their father left behind.
The more Violetta giggled at me and Tyler faking our animosity toward one another, the more my broken soul healed. We would all move on and put Eduardo Jackson “Jackyl” Bianchi far, far in the past.