Dark Saint [Romano Brotherhood, #1]

46 | Nina

I shiver at the memory, at the pain exploding in my face.

Maybe I should've thought about it more, considered other options, but that image of Santo hanging from the wall keeps flashing through my head. New wounds scattered all over his body, a telltale exhausted sag to his limbs that tells me of the pain he's in. I have to get him out. There's no time to second guess or weigh my options.

I don't know how I won't kill Luciano the second I see him. And Antonio too, for that matter. My chest aches with it, that desire to jump on him the second I see him, to dig my fingers into his eye sockets and slam his face into the wall, whatever possible, as long as he's hurting just as much as he's made us all hurt. 

By the time I get to the all too familiar house, I have to pinch the aching bruises on my face to distract from the morbid fantasies running through my mind. It's time to be sad, scared, and lost. 

My trembling voice is already seamlessly selling my story as I speak into the intercom, as I say that my name is Nina Genovese and I'm here to see my father.

My journey through the property goes by in a blur; I'm escorted by a guard who may as well be invisible for all I notice him. It feels jarring being back here—the house I lived in as a child, the house my mother died in—especially because things look the same as I remember them.

The inside of the house is the exact same sleek, modern interior I remember. I just never realized before how lifeless it all is. Everything looks pristine, almost not lived in. From practically any room in the Romano's house, you can hear Nico shouting at his Xbox or bickering with Tommaso, see Leah and Samuel lounging about, or hear Pistachio's paws scrabbling on the floor as someone throws one of his toys into a wall. There's laughter and fighting and love.

Their house is beautifully lived in and I miss it. My heart aches with my desire to be back there, because there's no other place for me to be than that house with those people. 

Home. It's the first one I've had. 

Tears crowd my vision, and they blur the unmistakable shape of Luciano as he enters the room. 

"I didn't believe Giovanni when he told me you were here. Now I see I was a fool to doubt him."

I'm mute, stomach churning as he comes closer. 

"Now, why don't you explain to me why you're here in the next five seconds, before I kill you for stepping foot on this property without my explicit permission," he murmurs.

"I-I'm here because I know he's here," I say, and Luciano cocks a brow. "And I want to see him."

+

I clutch my water cup with trembling fingers. I don't think I've stopped shaking since the second I stepped foot in Luciano's office. The adrenaline is simultaneously exhausting and the very thing that's keeping me going right now. Luciano's arms are crossed as he leans back in his office chair, contemplating everything I've told him.

I've been contemplating smashing a lamp over his head for the last fifteen minutes. 

"So am I to understand," he says after a while, "that you have been abused—physically and sexually—for these last months, held hostage by Santo and that sociopathic brother of his?"

I nod, wiping a tear from my cheek. That's another thing that's been happening nonstop. Thankfully, the tears will only help my plight.

"And that, in the panic of Santo's capture, you were able to slip past the guards and make your way to the nearest train station?"

Again, I nod. He jerks his chin, telling me to speak. "They've been reeling from his absence, from what I could tell. I've rarely seen Massimo when I was being... kept there, but I saw him when they got back. He was broken. They all were. They weren't as careful about discussing things near me and I found out what had happened."