Even on my worst days, I could always count on her comfort to ease the pain somewhat. With her gone and unable to offer me any reassurance, I turned to distant recollections of days long gone to keep me steady.
A rebellious, silent tear hits the snow, and I wipe away the remaining sorrowful evidence from my face. I hear distant footsteps, and with my cap still hiding my features, I see a caretaker start his morning routine. The clock is ticking, and even if I’d preferred to have a few more moments to sit here and just talk to the only parent who loved me unconditionally, I know I need to be mindful and keep this visit short. Soon this cemetery’s visitors will start to arrive, and although I don’t believe any of them could be a danger to me, I’d rather not tempt fate. My presence in Chicago will be limited, and aside from the drop-ins I intend to make, no one else should even fathom I’ve returned—especially the forces that made me flee this city in the first place.
“Mammà, I’m going to have to do something. I know you won’t approve, but I just need you to understand and guide me. Guide me and help me maneuver whatever obstacles are put in my way. I need your strength, Mammà. This is bound to get ugly, and I’m far too exhausted from so much ugliness in my life already.”
I look up at the pale blue sky hoping she hears my plea. It’s as close to an actual prayer as I’m capable of doing. The heavens have never been kind to me, but with my mother’s watchful eye and grace, I’m hoping that’s about to change. And Lord knows I need it to. The next few days will be excruciating to live through. But for him, I’ll need to gather all of my wits and do what needs to be done.
It will hurt.
God, it will hurt.
But there is no turning back now. Chicago has always been my home but I’m returning to it a stranger—a traitorous outsider that most would love nothing more than to eliminate. I just hope the love that once bloomed here is enough to sway the ones that matter most to me, not only to spare my life but also help with my cause.
It really is an undeserving favor to ask of them, especially when I’ve caused so much destruction in their lives. Still, lies and truths will be said in the days to come. I have to make sure I remember which ones are which. I can’t be fooled by my own words, and more importantly, by theirs.
These past few days, an infinite amount of questions have consumed my every thought. Too many to count. How will it be to see them all again? How will they react? Who should I approach first? Should I go for safe and comforting or go to the one that will undoubtedly usher me away? Or should I go directly to the love that has the final word in all things and has cause to hate me most?
The last isn’t really a question. I already know the answer.
There is only one man I have to find true courage to face. He’ll be the one with ice in his veins and a glare of disapproval in his hazel eyes. The last person I want to face is the very one I’ll have to initiate the first encounter with. With the other lost pieces of my heart, it won’t be as difficult to omit certain things. With Vincent though, I will have to lie every second that I’m in his presence.
Yes, he’s the one who will cause my soul the most damage, and as such, he’s who I will need to face head-on.
With no apologies and no fear.
Just courage and deceit.
I won’t beg for his leniency, but if it comes down to it, I will beg for his aid. Because without it, condemnation awaits. And I have hurt too many people in the past to let it happen again. For his sake, I have to try. Even if it means to condemn my own soul, and mourn something I will never have again—their love.
FIVE
Vincent
I pull up to my driveway in desperate need of a hot shower and a stiff drink. My body yearns for a full night’s rest and a decent meal, too. Unfortunately, no such thing will be possible since it’s already close to dawn, and in a few hours I’ll have to repeat this hellish day all over again. A shower and a change of clothes is the only amenity I’ll have time for.
I knew going in this Cosa Nostra ordeal would create havoc within the syndicate, and that my days would revolve around strategizing the best course of action to take, as well as hear out the elders’ endless opinions. It’s a courtesy I give them, and one I’m starting to resent. Their impish views and craven notions are complete contradictions to my own wants and visions. We’ve had three months to set a plan in motion—one that will disintegrate New York to nothing but a pile of ash. Yet they still come up with ways to stall my attempts in proceeding with an attack.
I have no doubt Bianchi is behind their feeble pleas of caution. Behind closed doors, the devil whispers in their fearful ears, undermining my will at every turn. Aside from complete fratricide, the only choice I have is waiting for Silvio to get sloppy and betray me in a way that can justify me slicing his throat in front of every last capo, putting an end to his influence.
Funny enough, I was under the impression I would be cutting up another traitor in my midst before Bianchi. Unexpectedly, Ciro came back from his New York assignment with pertinent information on where our enemy is most vulnerable. After scrutinizing every detail, and sending out my own secret scouts, I was pleasantly surprised my underboss did such a thorough job. I must admit, when I gave him the task, it was under false pretenses. I was sure once he came face to face with the Cosa Nostra’s don, he would use it to his advantage and strike a deal against me.
Never thought Il Bastardo had any sincere loyalty to anyone, other than to himself. But he has surprised me before. There was a time where he was right at my side in search of someone who meant nothing to him but meant a great deal to me. Those long grueling days, and even more tempestuous nights, made everyone apprehensive of my state of mind, yet Ciro never flinched at my manic, destructive behavior. Dominic might have been the one who kept me sane those two years on the road, but it was Ciro who kept up with my voracious need to scorch the earth until I found who I was looking for.
When my uncle demanded we return home, calling off the search for Selene, I’m not sure who was more disappointed. Honor and obedience to my boss bound me to cease my ventures, leaving all questions unanswered and my hope shattered. But Ciro had just invested two years of his life with little reward or acknowledgment from my uncle. Maybe that was what made me thaw a little in regards to Il Bastardo. No amount of sacrifice or hard work would ever be enough for my uncle to acknowledge him as his blood. But I took notice. So did the men who had been with us, especially Dominic.
Ciro had gained enough favor with my men that not even the boss himself could refute him. As a made man, I have to admire Ciro’s gumption and professionalism facing such odds. But as a Romano, I cannot let his ruthless virtues blind me from the fact he can easily use them against me. In that way, I too must take a page from my uncle and keep my inner circle consisting only of my true family—one that will remain loyal to the end.
I’m about to step foot out of the car when my phone starts to ring. My first instinct is to ignore the asshole that is blowing up my phone at five in the morning, but when I see Gio’s name pop up on the screen, I reconsider. Maybe he has news which will uplift my current mood.