Obsessed with His Bride

“Of course.” She frowned, her hands wringing in front of her, then turned abruptly and walked off. He waited until she was gone then turned to me, putting his hands on my shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

“I think… I think so.” I stared at him, eyes wild and wide, my ears ringing again. “Gino. What about Gino? We have to go back. He could be—”

“He’s dead.” His grip on my shoulders tightened then relaxed. “He’s fucking dead.”

“I’m so sorry.” I choked on something, gagged, and looked away. I stumbled and nearly fell, but he caught me, hugging me tight against him.

Gino was dead. One second, I was saying good morning to him, and the next… he was dead.

“How did that happen?” I asked, my voice a whisper. “I thought nobody knew where that house was.”

“They didn’t,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “I saw Vlas in there.”

“Vlas?” I turned and faced him. “I didn’t see Vlas. I saw the three guys… I didn’t see Vlas.”

“He came in last, just before I ran out. I saw him, Aida.”

“No,” I whispered. “That can’t be right.”

“Who else would do that?”

“You killed his gang. You took…. You took them out.”

“He could’ve hired more muscle.” His face screwed up in anger. “I knew I shouldn’t have let him go. I knew he was the real problem. I should’ve rooted him out, burned him to the fucking ground.”

“What are you going to do, Dante?” I whispered. “Where can we go?”

“We’re going back,” he said, his eyes hard. “We’re going back to war, my little Aida. I’ll speak with Don Leone… and then I’ll make sure this town burns for what Vlas just did.”

I stared into his eyes and I saw it there, the death and the fire, the violence beneath it all. I knew in that moment what he meant about the Tree of Heaven. The violence and destruction inherent in the mafia was built into the structures of the city, into the very fabric.

And he was going to tap into that destruction like a vengeful god.

I felt my stomach do flips as I stared into his eyes.

Outside, tires screamed.

He reached behind him, gripped his pistol, walked to the door. He opened it a crack then relaxed his grip as Steven shoved open the door. “Dante?” he asked. “What the fuck?”

“Vlas,” Dante said. “We have to go.”

Steven looked at me then back to Dante. He hesitated for just a moment before walking to Mrs. Kim’s counter, taking out a roll of cash, and placing it down near the register. Then he left with Dante just behind him. I followed the two men, casting a backwards glance at that money.

That was their power. That was their poison.

We climbed into a black SUV and Steven drove away, back toward the city.26DanteSteven parked the car outside of my house and looked at me. “Guys are on the way,” he said.

“Tell them to wait,” I said. “We need to get cleaned up.”

He nodded once and frowned. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Fine.” I pushed the door open and got out. Aida followed, taking a tentative step toward the tall brick-fronted house with a large porch and a high, sweeping roof. The houses in that area were all slightly different from the classic Philly rowhome, with more decorative patterning around the roofline . It was right in the middle of Nineteenth Street with a large shade tree in the front.

“This is nice,” she said.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“You always make your city place sound so…” She trailed off.

“Dangerous?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“That’s because it is.” I walked to my pale white front door, unlocked the locks, and pushed it open.

“Neighborhood seems quiet though,” she said. “There’s a mom with a stroller just down the block.”

“It is quiet,” I said. “But that’s not why it’s dangerous. People know I live here, they know they can find me here. That’s the real problem.”

She nodded then followed me inside. I shut the door behind us and gestured at the place. “Home sweet home.”

She hesitated and looked around. The front door opened up into a small living room with an L-shaped brown velvet couch. Plants sat on the door windowsill and several more were hung along the wall behind the couch. There was a flat-screen TV and a small coffee table. Just beyond that, the staircase was painted a fresh white, and a strange chandelier hung from the ceiling. A kitchen table sat underneath it. A small door led into the kitchen, with granite countertops and a nice sized island, though it was all much smaller than his Mt. Airy place.

“This is nice,” she said.

“Of course.” I leaned up against the counter and ran my fingers down the top. A little dust came up and I frowned. “Doesn’t get used enough though.”

“I thought you stayed here when you didn’t come home?”

“I sleep here,” I said. “But I don’t do much living here. Truth is, I don’t like even sleeping here all that much, but I have to make a show of keeping a place in this neighborhood. Helps keep the people happy if they know you’re one of them.”