“You’ll get through this, I promise. Fynn’s going to be okay.”
“Nobody knows that. It’s in God’s hands now.” He kisses me one last time and steps away. “Go home. Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” He turns and walks off and I watch him, wondering how he’s holding himself together when everything around him seems to be falling apart.
“You heard the man,” Elise says, taking my arm gently. “Let’s get going.” She yawns and shakes her head. “Poor Fynn. We all knows it’s a possibility in this business, but it’s still a shock.”
I say nothing. What can I say? I’ve been through this before? It doesn’t matter and she can’t do anything for me now.
We pile into a pair of black SUVs and are driven back to Villa Bruno. Elise rides with me and Gavino, while Nico and Karah are in the other vehicle. Nobody speaks and the silence is oppressive, but one thing keeps rolling through my mind, like film stuck on a loop: It’s all been them from the start.
I came to Villa Bruno thinking I would dedicate myself to finding out who killed Manuel. Instead, I was distracted by Casso and his quest to get rid of Danil Federov. But Danil woke something up inside of me out in that parking lot in the flesh-rotting heat. It’s been the Bruno family from the start, from all the way back then. It was always the Bruno family, and I let my desire for Casso cloud my judgment and block my memory. Casso’s kiss lingers on my lips, but it fades the further away we drive, replaced by the image of my brother’s face, the last smile I ever saw on his lips.
The SUVs park outside the black and quiet Villa Bruno. I can’t remember it ever being dark before. The place is normally filled with life—staff, family, people coming and going, mafioso and business associates and cooks and housekeepers—but tonight it’s dead. It’s ten past ten and everyone’s dragging.
“I need a fucking drink,” Gavino says, stepping out of the SUV. “Elise, you game?”
“I’m game for sleep, darling,” she says with a world-weary sigh, like she’s sick of sitting shiva and never wants to do it again. For all I know, this is the dozenth time she’s done it this year. She could have an entire life outside of this place and I’d never know it.
“I’ll drink with you.” The words come out too quickly, too eagerly. At least to my ear. But Gavino only narrows his gaze at me, shrugs a bit like I’m better than nothing, and walks on.
I exchange a look with Elise. She seems amused but too tired to do much else than smile. I hurry after Gavino as she disappears up the steps and toward wherever she sleeps at night. I still don’t know.
The game room floods with light. Gavino goes behind the bar and I sidle up to it. Cool wood beneath my fingers. “Whiskey only tonight,” he says, grabbing two cut crystal glasses, two big chunks of ice, and a lovely looking bottle. “Fynn’s favorite. Some Japanese stuff. I prefer American but I’ll admit the Japanese can make a decent liquor. Maybe it’s wrong to drink it without him, but I say we do it in his honor. And anyway, if he pulls through, I’ll buy him as many bottles as he wants. How well do you know Fynn, anyway?” He pours two hefty splashes.
I accept my glass. “Not very well. I wish I’d tried harder to talk to him before now.”
Gavino sighs and nods and raises his glass. “To future chances,” he says.
I toast and drink. The whiskey’s smooth and dry with sharp aftertaste and it warms my guts. I’m surprised I like it. Whiskey reminds me of angry men and shouting. But this isn’t so bad.
Gavino sits beside me, leaving a single stool buffer. I wonder who’s supposed to be there and figure it’s Casso. Or Fynn. Or anyone else. I’m the last person Gavino wants to drink with, but I guess he’ll drink with anyone right now, if only to have some conversation to fill the silence in his head.
“I’m going to admit something to you.” Gavino swirls his glass around, watching the ice melt. “I don’t really remember you at all from back in the day. I barely remember there was a war going on, if I’m honest. We were so sheltered back then, everyone except for Casso really. Father had us learning about the business but we weren’t out on the streets like my older brother. I remember Father being stressed all the time and yelling at Casso constantly, but I never cared enough to find out why. We had that privilege, and you know what? Sometimes I regret it.”
“Yelling at Casso?” I blink with surprise. I didn’t know about that. “He never told me.”