When our mother took her last breath, killed by our knife, I could see peace descend on Remo’s and Nino’s face.
Shoulders hunched, I perched on the edge of the sofa, staring at the angry red marks on my forearms from cutting my wrists. The Camorra doc had stitched me up and soon bandages would cover up the wounds, not the memories though.
A tight sensation took hold of my chest, a mix of burning fury and numbing gloom. The former I could deal with, the latter annoyed the shit out of me. I glanced toward the corpse of our mother in the center of our living room. She’d invaded our home, our fucking lives, to kill us. Some people had mommy issues. That term didn’t even begin to describe the kind of fuckery we had to deal with. This was the second time she’d tried to kill my brothers and me. Our own fucking mother. Looking at her dead body now, I didn’t feel anything but rage. When other people got that warm feeling when thinking about the woman who gave birth to them, for me, there was only darkness and pain. The last time she’d tried to end our lives, I’d been too young to understand or remember, but Remo and Nino had carried the baggage of that day with them. My brothers were everything for me, but even I knew both of them teetered on the edge of insanity. No fucking wonder when your mother slit your wrists and tried to burn you alive. That had been many years ago, and today she’d tried again, and almost succeeded.
My brothers sought the closeness of their wives and children. Fabiano had left to pick up his girlfriend, Leona. Only Adamo and I were in our own bubble. Our eyes met, guilt and shame flashing across his face. Maybe he hoped for absolution, for me to walk over to him and tell him all was forgiven.
After the doc had bandaged me, I staggered to my feet, ignoring the stars dancing before my eyes, and headed toward the stairs.
I dragged myself into my room and fell into bed. Reaching for my cell, I considered sending Diego a text, but then I wasn’t sure what to write. I didn’t want him to think what happened bothered me, didn’t want to appear weak in front of anyone, even my best friend.
Dropping the cell, I stared at the ceiling. The silence bothered me today, when it never had before. Usually, I would have gone out and found a girl to fuck, but I wasn’t even in the mood for that. With slashed wrists and a head wound, I wouldn’t be able to deliver a satisfying performance. I’d probably pass out mid-fuck and bury the girl under my unconscious body.
For the first time in my life, I wanted someone at my side, if only for a few hours.
When I came down to breakfast, I heard Mom’s sniffling. “These poor boys,” she said thickly.
“These boys are the men who rule over the West Coast with relentless brutality, Claudia,” Dad said. “They survived Benedetto, they’ll survive this and probably get out of it stronger than before.”
“What’s going on?” I asked when I entered.
Nonna sat at the table, praying the Holy Rosary, her eyes squeezed shut.
Diego paced the room with a deep frown. Dad had his arm wrapped around Mom’s shoulder who was crying, which didn’t necessarily mean something horrible had happened.
Dad and Diego exchanged a look, deciding if this was something I was allowed to know about. Toni would give me the dirty details later anyway, but recently it annoyed me that my family still treated me like I couldn’t handle anything.
“The Camorra is under red alert because of an incident in the Falcone mansion,” Dad said.
“What incident?”
Diego took out his phone, checking his messages before he shoved it back into his pants. “Nera Falcone tried to kill her sons.”
“Again?” I gasped. “What happened? Did someone get hurt?” The stories of Mother Falcone’s craziness still made the rounds. When Benedetto had still been in power, people hadn’t dared discuss the events, but since Remo had taken over, that had changed.
“She had the support of a few traitors,” Dad said carefully. “We don’t know details yet, but Remo called for a meeting of every Camorrista in Vegas. Diego and I’ll have to leave soon.”
Diego nodded. “I’ll grab a jacket.”
I quickly followed after him when he left the kitchen. “How’s Savio?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t written yet.”
I grabbed his arm. “Diego, are you stupid? You should ask him if he’s all right. He’s your friend.”
Diego shook me off. “If I do, that sounds as if I think he’s weak. Gemma, he’s my friend, but he’s also a Falcone. He and his brothers rule over the Camorra. He won’t tell me even if he isn’t all right. And I’m going to see them at the meeting in Roger’s Arena anyway.”