I massage my thigh, frustrated by the pain that keeps throbbing up my hip, but I don’t complain. I bear it, I handle it. Life is pain and suffering, and if I can’t take it then I won’t be good enough to destroy my enemies and protect everyone I love. I say nothing and I continue on.
“There are rumors,” Gavino says, sloshing some whiskey in a glass. He sips it and makes a face. I can’t tell if he’s disgusted with the drink or with himself. “Ugly rumors going around.”
I feel a pit of dread open in my stomach. “What kind of rumors?”
“You know what kind. Why else would we call you in here to tell you about them?” Gavino shakes his head and isn’t able to meet my eye. “Look, I love you, Fynn. You know I do. You’re my brother and the only man I ever let break my jaw on more than one occasion. But you’re not ready.”
I stare at him, not comprehending. What the hell is he talking about? I turn to Casso, frowning, but Casso’s not meeting my gaze either. Anger begins to boil beneath my skin and I dig my fingers into the armrest of my chair.
“What the fuck is he talking about?” I ask, still staring at my big brother, the Don. Sometimes I forget to offer him the deference he deserves, even though I punished Mirella for doing something similar.
“Gavino’s just thinking about what’s best for you, Fynn. He’s right when he says you’re not ready.”
“What are the rumors?”
“They’re not important. What’s important is you heal and keep progressing. You’re doing really well and I think Mirella has been good for you. I want to make sure you have the time and space to do what you need to get better.”
I slam my cane down on the floor. “Enough with the bullshit platitudes. What rumors?”
“They’re saying you can barely walk,” Gavino says from behind me. I turn back to gape at him. “That fucking stumble, Fynn. Toward the end, when you nearly did faceplant? Someone at that table noticed and started spreading a rumor, and now the whole city thinks you’re vulnerable.”
“Motherfuckers,” I snarl, halfway standing up, but the pain in my legs suddenly flares and I collapse back down. Casso and Gavino both step toward me but I growl at them. “If either of you fucking touches me, I swear I’ll kill you.” They both stop and I sit there, breathing hard, heart racing as sweat prickles my skin.
Someone talked. Someone noticed my tiny moment of weakness and turned it into something much bigger. Our enemies are talking now and they’re telling everyone the Bruno family is soft. They’re saying I’m a target, that I should be killed off because I lost some mobility, because I got fucking injured, and the idea makes me want to rage.
“Everyone at that table needs to die,” I say quietly, staring at my brother the Don. “Every single one of them. I’ll happily do it myself.”
“Fynn,” Casso says warningly.
“They’re saying I’m weak. Can you really look at me and say that’s okay? That we should turn and look the other way?” I shove myself to my feet, this time not collapsing back down. I stare at my brothers and dare them to disagree. “I’ll hunt them all down and pull the trigger myself. Then we’ll see what the city’s saying about me.”
“Enough,” Casso says, sounding tired. “We can’t indulge in this right now. The fact is, Fynn, you aren’t yourself. You haven’t been since you woke up from that coma, and I blame myself, but we can’t change reality. You have more work and healing to do before you can go back out there. The meeting was a mistake.”
I slam my cane down into the floor, breathing hard. I want to smash it against the books. I want to break the pictures, the statues. I want to destroy, kill, bleed. I want to feel pain or anything aside from this all-pervasive weakness, this failure, like I’m not good enough because of my injury. I hate feeling like this and I can’t rectify my current situation with the man I feel I am inside.
“Fynn.” Gavino comes closer. He’s looking at me with fear in his eyes. I haven’t seen him looking at me like that since the night Father took us down to the drain room and told us that we’d fight and only one of us would come out alive. I haven’t seen the worry like that in a long, long time. He wasn’t afraid of me back then—he was scared that he’d be the one to survive. Gavino’s always been like that, putting others before himself, even though he pretends like he doesn’t care about anything, like he’s all smiles and laughter and jokes. But I know my brother, and I know how deeply he cares.