Taking The Mantle

Chapter 12

"Antonio!" I call out to his retreating form. I came down here to speak to him after training but it looks like he wrapped things up earlier than usual. There's some dirty work that needs to get done and I have a feeling he'd be more than happy to oblige.

Antonio stops and turns to face me. His brows are furrowed as he slowly walks over.

"What's up?" he asks.

"You want to help me burn down a warehouse?" I ask with a grin.

His eyes widen and a manic smile spreads on his face, "when do we leave?"

"Tonight," I reply with a chuckle, "after dinner."

"I'm going to have the chefs make veal," he says, nodding to himself, "it's always good to eat veal before starting a fire."

My brows lift, "why's that?"

"Evens out the world," he shrugs, "eat the innocent and burn the scum."

I chuckle and shake my head, "you better tell them before they start cooking."

"You're right," he replies before turning on his heel and striding down the hall. I knew this would put him in a better mood.

As he gets to the staircase he turns to look at me over his shoulder, "you might want to track down Rosa."

"Why?" I ask confusedly. She's remarkably independent and stubborn, if she wanted something she'd tell me. She's probably off flirting with some poor young soldier. She gave one a nosebleed once, just from the dirty things she said to him.

"She left the shooting range in tears," he says as he rushes down the stairs. I curse under my breath and follow him down the stairs.

I head for the second floor where her room is. Men move around the halls in preparation for war; giving advice to new recruits, stocking up on guns and bullets, looking over blueprints and plans. I push through them all in desperate search of Rosa.

I know exactly where she's going to be. It's the same place she went whenever she was upset when we were younger. A small alcove at the end of the north side of the second floor.

As I get to the end of the corridor I can hear it; muffled sobs and sniffles. My heart clenches in my chest as I round the corner. There she is, curled up into herself with her forehead against her knees.

I drop to the marble floor beside her and pull her into my arms. I stroke down her hair and her hands fist my shirt, pulling me closer. Her whole body is shaking and I can feel her tears soaking through the fabric of my shirt.

"What's going on?" I ask softly, "Antonio said you ran out of the range crying."

"I'm sorry," she whispers, trying to pull away, "I'll stop."

I tighten my hold on her and repeat myself, "cosa sta succedendo, amore?"
(What's going on, love?)

She shakes her head and looks up at me with teary eyes, "I just- I thought I could handle this, all of this, but I was wrong. I miss Italy, I miss my guards, I miss my home. I don't belong here, I'm only making everything worse. I couldn't stop Luca, Antonio's a liability, and the kids don't like me. I don't know the men here and I barely know what's going on with business. And this war that we're in- it's just-"

Her voice cracks and she buries her face in my chest. I pull her flush against my chest and hold her close.

"It's okay," I try to reassure her, "I've got you, it's okay."

"I'm scared, Gio," she whispers.

"I know, amore," I reply, placing a kiss on top of her head, "but I've got you. I won't let anything happen to you, lo prometto."
(I promise)

As she sobs into me, I can't help but feel angry. Not at her, not at Luca or even Antonio, at myself. I should have paid more attention to her than I have been. She's always been such a strong person that I didn't even think to check on her. She shouldn't have to feel like this; alone and afraid.

"I've never been around for a war before," she admits, "Sono sempre stato tenuto lontano da tutta la violenza e dal caos."
(I was always kept away from the violence and chaos)

"Non lo sapevo," I whisper into her hair.
(I didn't know that)

How the fuck would I know that? She's the epitome of a Mafia princess, I just assumed she'd witnessed it all. I should have been paying better attention to her. I would have gone about this differently if I had known.

She sniffles and pulls back from the embrace before muttering, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I ask incredulously as I wipe away stray tears.

"For crying," she says, looking at the ground, "I know la Regina shouldn't show weakness."

"That's bullshit," I reply quickly, taking her chin in my hand and forcing her to look at me, "The only way to show strength is by overcoming weakness. You're not weak for being afraid, you're only weak if you let it consume you."

She nods slowly, "I need to go back."

"What?" I scoff, shaking my head, "No. You're not giving up on me that easy."

Like fucking hell I'm letting her go back to Italy. She's here for a reason; to serve a very important purpose. I'll find a way to make her happy, whatever it takes, as long as she stays here with me.

"I meant to the shooting range," she clarifies, rolling her eyes. I narrow my eyes as I contemplate, for what must me the hundredth time, whether or not she can read my mind.

"You probably should," I finally concede, kissing her forehead, "I'll see you at dinner."

"Gio?" she asks quietly and I hum in response, "can you do something for me?"

"Of course," I reply quickly, "what do you need?"

"Tell me the truth," she says, looking in my eyes, "when I ask questions about what's going on, always tell me the truth. I don't want to be sheltered anymore, and certainly not the way Victoria is."

"Alright," I nod slowly, "but there are going to be times when you don't like the truth."

"I don't care," she counters sternly, "I want you to tell me the truth, no matter what."

I gaze down at her for a few moments. I never really considered what I'd say to her if she asked questions but I don't plan to lie. She's strong, even if she was sheltered from this aspect of our life. She deserves to know the truth, even if she can't quite handle it.

"Lo prometto," I tell her.
(I promise)