Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3)

Fabiano nodded, then got down on his knees beside his father. I did the same. Fabiano raised the knife above his father’s chest then looked at me. I closed my fingers over his and together we jabbed the blade down, right into Scuderi’s fucking heart.

Fabiano’s shoulders sagged and he released a harsh breath as if the man’s death finally set him free. I wondered if anything would ever do the same for Nino and me?

SERAFINA

Outside of Las Vegas we traded in the car for the private jet belonging to the Outfit. I huddled in my seat, my cheek pressed to the window, watching the city grow smaller in the distance. Dad sat across from me, looking and not looking at me, caught somewhere between utter relief and hopeless despair.

I knew what a pitiful sight I was. Bloody and torn dress. Bite marks all over my throat. Dante was talking quietly on the phone, but he, too, slanted the occasional look at me. The only one who hadn’t looked at me after I flinched from his touch was Danilo. He leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, staring blankly at the floor.

Guilt and a flicker of sadness washed over me. For him. For us. For what could have been and never would.

I swallowed and looked away. I met Dad’s gaze. He forced a small smile and reached for me as if to touch my legs over the tulle of my dress, but then he hesitated as if he was worried about my reaction. I snatched his hand and squeezed. His eyes were still glassy and haunted. I’m a sinner, Dad. Don’t cry for me.

He lifted his other hand with the phone. “Do you want to call Samuel? I sent him a message that we got you.”

I nodded fiercely, my throat clogging. Dad’s eyes darted to my throat once more, and the hint of something cruel and harsh flared in them. Something he had never showed at home. He gave me his phone, and I hit speed dial with shaking fingers.

“Yes?”

For a second, hearing Samuel’s voice immobilized me. “Sam,” I croaked.

There was silence. “Fina?”

The word was a broken exclamation that splintered me apart. Tears trailed down my cheeks, and I could feel all eyes on me. I closed my own. “I’m sorry.”

Samuel sucked in a sharp breath. “Don’t … don’t apologize. Not ever again, Fina.”

I couldn’t promise that. One day I’d have to deliver the apology that would make Sam hate me. A higher voice rang out in the background. “It’s okay, Mom,” Samuel soothed. “I’ll give her to you.” He addressed me again. “I’ll give you Mom now. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, Fina.”

I sniffled. “Me too.”

“Fina,” Mom said softly, trying but failing at sounding composed and not like she was sobbing.

So many broken hearts. So much pain and despair.

Remo Falcone was indeed the cruelest man I knew, and I had to be the coldest bitch on this planet, because even still my stupid heart thudded faster when I thought of him.

“I’ll be home soon,” I whispered.

“Yes … yes,” Mom agreed. We hung up eventually because it got to be too much, the silence of suppressed crying and the distance we couldn’t bridge.

“Where are we going?” I hadn’t asked before because I’d just assumed we’d go back to Minneapolis … but I was as good as Danilo’s wife. Would they take me to Indianapolis? Or maybe to Chicago because Dante needed to question me about every little detail of my captivity?

Dad leaned forward and cupped my cheek. “Home, Fina. Home.”

I nodded. My eyes found Danilo, who was watching me. Our gazes locked briefly, but then guilt forced me to look away. I’d have to face him eventually. I wasn’t sure what to tell him.

The rest of the plane ride passed in utter silence. I knew they all had so many questions to ask but held back for my sake, and I was glad because I still wasn’t sure what to say to any of them.

With every second that passed, my skin crawled more and more trapped in my wedding dress. It felt so utterly wrong, like being wrapped in lies and deceit.

Mom and Samuel waited in front of our house when we pulled up with the car. I didn’t see Sofia anywhere, probably to protect her from the sight, and I was glad. She didn’t need to see me like this.

I trembled when Dad helped me out of the car, his fingers tight around my forearm as if he worried I might faint. Dante and Danilo stayed back as we walked toward the house. Samuel staggered toward me. My twin. My confidante. My partner in crime.

He froze when his eyes registered my state, the marks on my throat, and his expression became one I’d seen the first time shortly after he’d become a Made Man five years ago. Cold, cruel, out for blood. He caught himself, bridged the remaining distance between us, and hugged me to his body, lifting me off the ground in a crushing embrace. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, shivering.