Luca Vitiello (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 0.5)

“Did something happen?”

“I should ask you that,” Matteo said carefully. The elevator began moving up from his floor. “Romero is here. Where’s Aria?”

Matteo sounded worried.

I glanced at my wife who held her cup against her lips, watching me worriedly. I gave her a tight smile, which she returned at once.

“Luca?”

The elevator doors slid open and Matteo and Romero got out, both moving carefully as if they expected the worst.

Their eyes found me then moved behind me. Disapproval flashed across Romero’s face and his mouth tightened but he didn’t say anything. I could imagine what he thought, seeing the marks on Aria’s throat. A bruise circled his own throat where I’d held him in a chokehold.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” I said, trying to ignore the way Matteo was x-raying me with his gaze.

Romero’s angry eyes hit me. “I can handle it.”

I straightened. I’d have despised myself forever if I’d hurt Aria the way I’d first thought but Romero had no right to criticize me, not now, not ever. “I am your Capo,” I said in a low voice, and those words filled me with a new purpose, a strange sense of arriving. “If there’s something you want to say to me, then do it.”

Romero looked away eventually, but I could tell that he was still pissed on Aria’s behalf.

“Would you like a coffee?” Aria piped up, as usual saving the day.

“Yes,” Romero said without hesitation and walked over to her. I narrowed my eyes at his antics, even if I had to admit that his protectiveness over Aria was a good thing.

Aria hopped off the bar stool and headed for the coffee maker. “What about you, Matteo?”

My brother shook his head, his eyes still focused on me.

Aria prepared coffee as Romero stood close beside her, his eyes lingering on the bruises. Aria gave him a smile and said something I didn’t catch, and he relaxed.

“What happened?” Matteo asked as he stepped close to me. “Is Aria all right?”

“What do you think?” I muttered.

He searched my eyes. “I think that even in a blind rage, you wouldn’t hurt your wife.”

I gave a terse nod. “We should head out to Nina and set up a meeting with the Underbosses and Captains as soon as possible. And someone needs to organize the funeral.”

“It won’t be me. For all I care we can dump the body in the Hudson.”

“We’ll give the task to Nina. She’ll make a spectacle out of it for appearance’s sake,” I said. Then I remembered something. “Did you tell Dante or Scuderi about our father’s death?”

Matteo shook his head. “You’re Capo. It’s your job.”

We stepped into the elevator and I showed Matteo my list of missed calls. “I have a feeling someone else told them.”

“Then we should find out who it was and have a long talk with them.” His lips twitched.

I gave a nod. The weight that had been lifted when my father died was replaced by a new weight of responsibility. The Famiglia needed a strong Capo.

“You’ll be a better Capo than our father,” Matteo said.Matteo and I stepped into the Vitiello townhouse. It was oddly quiet. I’d have thought Nina was dancing on the tables by now. Matteo sent me a questioning look.

“Nina?” I called.

No reply. We pulled our guns and slowly made our way upstairs.

“Where are the guards?” Matteo muttered.

That was what I’d asked myself as well. Nina could still be the target of possible attacks unless she was involved in Father’s death.

We didn’t find her in her bedroom when a choked laugh came from down the corridor. Matteo and I followed the sound toward Father’s bedroom and found Nina on the ground amidst shredded clothes. In one hand she was clutching scissors and, in the other, an almost empty bottle of Father’s most expensive scotch. Her flimsy nightgown was splattered with blood from wounds in her hands and forearms. She must have cut herself in her drunken stupor while destroying Father’s suits and dress shirts.

She peered up at us with teary unfocused eyes. “He’s dead?”

“He died in agony,” I told her.

Nina threw her head back and let out another choked laugh that turned into a sob. She lifted the hand with the scissors to wipe a strand of hair from her forehead. I quickly grabbed her wrist and pried the scissors from her fingers before she lost an eye by accident. She clutched at my shirt when I helped her to her feet. “What happens to me now?” she slurred.

“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to loosen her grip without breaking her fingers, but it became clear pretty quickly that she couldn’t stand on her own.

“I have nothing…nothing. Your father disinherited me. He didn’t want me to be happy when he was dead.”

He didn’t want anyone to be happy. Matteo gave me a look. I’d suspected that Father would find a way to make Nina’s life hell even after his death.