Dark Saint [Romano Brotherhood, #1]

08 | Nina

"And I hope it goes without saying," Michael clears his throat awkwardly, "that this puts you in a... delicate position. You are an outsider. Someone whose very existence they are obligated by blood, by oath, to protect against. At the risk of death by methods that would be... distasteful to think about. Even for me."

My mind is reeling with this new information. What happened before Massimo brought Omertà to the Romanos code of conduct? And why did Santo bring me to their home if he knew this vow that underpins his family—and consequentially his life—would be in peril?

Everything Michael has described feels foreign to me. Growing up, if my brother made one small misstep—if he pissed off the wrong person, mismanaged a drop or a meeting with an important associate—he knew that he would end up in an alley, a knife impaling his gut. A knife that had his father's name written all over it.

In fact, Luciano had facilitated several elaborate set-ups where, had Carlo not delivered on what he was ordered to, he would've ended up in prison for life. With Luciano going scot-free.

Omertà sounds a lot like loyalty. Family.

What do these things mean to the Romanos?

Michael seems to realize he's talked more than he meant to, because he doesn't say another word until the cabin appears in our line of sight.

The second we see it, the crashing of doors and a raised voice reaches both our ears. Michael mutters a curse and we both break into a run.

Santo is in what appears to be a rage when we crash into the cabin. He's just slammed the back patio door behind him when he spots us, his eyes immediately darkening as he stalks across the room.

I scream as he slams Michael's large body into the wall, both hands around the guard's throat. "What did I tell you?" he growls, face twisted in anger. "She is to stay on this property at all times. Is that an order that can be interpreted in different ways I'm not aware of? Was I not fucking clear?"

"Wait! It's my fault," I panic as Santo's fist pulls back to deliver a hard punch, "I was having a panic attack. I needed fresh air and I made him take me on a short walk. I just—I just needed a few minutes of fresh air."

Santo wheels on me, and Michael sends me an incredulous look over his shoulder. "You didn't make him do anything," Santo snaps, "Michael is a big boy, and he can follow orders just fine. Or at least, so I thought."

"Please stop," I beg, and Santo's big body tenses. We wait in limbo, all three of us silent for a few eternal moments, before Santo growls and releases Michael, who barely stumbles before righting himself.

"Jenna will no longer be receiving those funds. Get out of my sight."

For the first time, Michael's face crumbles. "Mr. Romano, please—"

"Get. Out."

The danger in his voice is palpable, cutting into me and leaving me trembling. Michael goes pale, but he's desperate now for some reason.

"She needs those funds. She can't survive without them. I'm begging you—"

"I strongly advise you not to make me fucking repeat myself."

Michael's large body slumps, his face drawn in sudden resignation and something more—something like devastation. He bows his head, and then slips out the door.

"Santo, it was harmless. We—"

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Leave it, Nina."

"Who is Jenna? What funds?"

"His daughter. She's currently receiving expensive treatment for an auto-immune disorder that Michael and his wife cannot afford. We pay for it." He smirks. "Well, we did."