Fragile Longing

But Mom was a private crier. She probably wanted to be alone, so I passed the room by.

That night when I lay in my bed, I allowed myself to cry.After a moment of exhilarating euphoria yesterday when Remo Falcone had handed himself over in exchange for his younger brother we’d captured, after hours of seeing him getting tortured and torturing him myself, my mood had now hit rock bottom.

I raced through Minneapolis, not even sure where I was going. I’d waited for this day for months. I’d lost count of the times I’d imagined how to dismember Remo, how to bring him to his knees and make him beg for mercy. He did neither. Till the very end, his air of arrogance remained untouched. It didn’t matter what we did to him, he kept up that arrogant smirk. Maybe if we’d gotten the chance to go through with our plan and cut his fucking dick off, he would have finally begged, but we were thwarted.

After all our struggling and effort, Remo Falcone had won. Serafina, the woman he’d kidnapped and dishonored, had saved him with Dante’s help.

I’d felt an onslaught of guilt when Serafina had been kidnapped and even after she’d returned to us broken, a shadow of the girl I thought I knew. Now, anger took up more and more of my emotions, becoming almost overpowering. The instant she’d pointed her gun at us to protect her kidnapper—our worst enemy—I’d hated her. It was one thing to be born on the wrong side and to not know any better like most Camorrista, but it was unforgivable to be raised in the Outfit and defect. Woman or not. She could have sent her twins to Las Vegas and stayed where she belonged—in the Outfit.

I pulled into the parking lot of a random bar, not even sure if it was one of our own or if it belonged to the Bratva. I didn’t care. I killed the engine and got out of my car.

Inside the dingy, dimly lit bar, I downed one shot after the other. The barkeeper didn’t ask any questions or try to prevent me from getting dangerously shitfaced.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a blonde woman. My heart skipped a beat—for a moment, I thought it was Serafina. I wanted to kick myself for my own idiocy. I downed the rest of my drink and thumped the glass on the counter. The barkeeper refilled my glass without a comment. Upon closer inspection, the woman down the counter from me had no resemblance with my ex-fiancée except for the similar hair color. Every inch of this woman’s face spoke of a life full of hardships and frustrations. Serafina had lived in a golden cage. She’d never had to work for anything, fight for anything, and the first time she did it was to save our enemy and betray all of us.

Bitterness poisoned my insides. I was caught up in a self-destructive spiral, but I couldn’t shake myself free of it.

The woman noticed my attention and smiled. She wasn’t my type. Too unnatural, but she was exactly what I needed. I got up, walked over to her, and sank down on the bar stool beside her. Up close, she barely looked like Serafina, but I didn’t care. After a short chat and a few more drinks, we stumbled into the restroom together. I fucked her hard against a bathroom stall, her front pressed against the wall, her back to me. I focused on her blonde hair and let out my frustration and anger. Remo had taken Serafina from me, had stolen her innocence and her heart. I could imagine his feeling of utter triumph every time he fucked her, knowing he’d taken this from me. I came with a violent shudder and untangled myself from the woman in front of me. I wasn’t sure if she came, but I didn’t care. She didn’t look unhappy as she leaned up to me and rasped something into my ear that I didn’t understand before slipping a piece of paper into my pocket. She stumbled out of the stall, and I braced myself with one arm and disposed of the condom. For a long time, I stared at the graffitied wall, feeling sick to my stomach and not sure if it was the result of too much alcohol or my tasteless fuck in a dirty restroom. I straightened my clothes and stumbled out of the restroom. After dropping money on the counter, I staggered to my car.

Once behind the steering wheel, I stared straight ahead, trying to stop my vision from spinning. I closed my eyes, considering where to go. The hotel was out of the question. My family and I had been staying at the place for as long as I could remember. I wouldn’t show up there in this pitiful state. My parents had enough to deal with without worrying about my drunken escapades.