Cain ( Underworld Mafia Romance 1)

And maybe this way, I can redeem myself. I can’t promise him I’ll protect his family, and I won’t even try, but I will eliminate the greatest threat. Without fail.

Orso smiles. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” I tell him as I put the photo and the piece of paper inside my jacket. “You can thank me when I’m done, which means you’ll have to be around until then.”

He nods. I turn and start to walk away.

“Cain,” he calls after me.

I turn around. “What?”

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” Orso tells me.

I nod. I don’t know what his reasons are for wanting to keep this secret, but it’s not my habit to tell other people who I’m killing.

“I won’t,” I promise him.

“Oh, and I want you to have this.”

He pulls something out from under his pillow and shows it to me. A knitted red… penis?

“It’s a cornicello,” Orso explains. “A little horn. It’s a lucky charm for some Italians. Your mother made it for me a long time ago. She made two, actually, but I lost the first one.”

I take it from his hand so I can examine it more closely. I guess it does look like a horn. A curvy kind of horn. I still don’t like it.

“You keep it.” I put it back in Orso’s hand. “You’re the one who needs it.”

Orso chuckles. “What? You think Signora Fortuna can prevent me from dying? That’s not luck, that’s fate.”

“My mother made this for you,” I remind him. “I’m sure she wants you to keep it.”

Orso shakes his head. “She’d want you to have it.”

“No,” I say. “She would…”

I stop as I realize what Orso has just said. A lump forms in my throat.

“What do you mean she would want me to have it?”

Orso sighs. “I’m sorry, Cain, but she’s not around anymore.”

What? She died? When? How?

“And I’m sorry, but I need to rest now,” Orso says.

A moment later, he closes his eyes.

So what? He’s just going to sleep? He’s going to ignore me right after telling me my mother’s dead? Just leave it like that?

My hands clench into fists. I want to shake him so that he opens his eyes again and gives me the answers I need. I want to punch a wall. I want to throw this stupid cornicello out a window. Instead, I slip the talisman into my pocket and force myself to leave the room.

As soon as I step out, I see Leo. Older. Taller. Just as furious with me as when I last saw him.

“What the hell?”

He immediately tries to throw a punch at me, but Andrea holds him back. That does nothing to keep his temper from breaking loose, though.

“What the fuck are you doing here? How dare you show your face here after what you’ve done!”

“Your father asked him to come here, Leo,” Andrea tells him.

“I don’t care.” Leo tries to struggle free of Andrea’s hold as he glares at me. “You should never have come back. I don’t care if he forgives you. I never will, not for letting Antonio die or for letting Mom die.”

Letting her die? What does he mean?

I grab the front of his leather jacket. “What happened to her?”

“See,” he scoffs at me. “You don’t even know.”

“What happened to her?” I repeat as I clutch his jacket more firmly.

“She was killed, okay?” Leo spits the truth in my face.

Killed? I feel a sickening pit in my stomach.

Leo pushes my hands away. “She was just out in the garden and some fucking asshole on a motorbike drove by and shot her in the heart. She died in my arms.”

No. I don’t want to imagine it. I can’t.

Leo shoves me back with both hands. “Where were you when that happened, huh?”

Another shove.

“You didn’t even come to her funeral!”

And another. “What kind of son are you? What kind of person doesn’t even bother to know if his mother is dead or alive?”

“That’s enough!” Andrea comes between us. “Leo, Monica’s death wasn’t Cain’s fault.”

“But it was,” Leo argues as he pushes Andrea aside. “He let Antonio die. And because of that, Mom couldn’t stand to be here. She would have been safe if we stayed here, but she wanted to leave. And look what happened to her.”

I look into his eyes. Now I understand why he thinks I’m responsible for Monica’s death. That doesn’t mean I’m just going to let him put the blame on me, though.

“Antonio died for you,” I remind him as I stare him down. “And you’re right. I wasn’t there to protect Mom, but you were there, weren’t you? Tell me. What did you do, little brother?”

The rage in Leo’s eyes burns even hotter, like blue flames. “Why, you…”

He lifts his arm to hurl his fist at my face. This time, I stop him myself. I grab his wrist firmly and push it back. When he attempts to throw his other fist at me, I catch it in the palm of my hand.