xi | our promise
oof thank you for 20k! I love you all.
this is just a reminder for any sensitive's that are reading that this IS a mafia book and the stuff that they do is not okay in any sense absolutely whatsoever ty for coming to my ted talk
p.s. @ everyone making jokes about waiting a month for the next update ; it's been two weeks and 2 days. jokes on you
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
Everyone is staring at the black television screen in stunned silence. Valentin and the demon he raised are gone, but the death of my mother is on a continuous and endless loop in my mind. She only died once, but in the last 20 seconds I've watched her die a thousand times – and every single time, it was my fault.
People have started to talk, but I can't hear them. I can't hear anything. I can see their mouth's move, but I can't understand what they're saying. I can't even feel the ground beneath my feet, let alone the tears as they roll down my face.
It feels like time has stopped. Like nobody has moved. Then all of a sudden it resumes, and I lurch forward with a sob. Then I hear every single voice, all at once, and I'm overwhelmed. It's all too much.
Yet I can't turn away from the screen, as I witness Diavolo jam a knife into my mother's neck for the thousandth – and one - time. And the sickening feeling in my gut that's also causing me to feel nauseous hints that her death will be one that'll haunt me every single time I close my goddamn eyes.
I'm forced to look away from the screen as someone's grip tightens around my waist. I glance down and realize that the only reason I haven't collapsed is because Dominic is holding me. He's holding me as tightly as he can, and he won't let go.
Liam. He's the first person I search for, and the first person I find. It takes him a while to finally look away from the screen, to finally look everyone in the eye. He looks down at his mom, then at Veleno. He looks over my shoulder at Dominic and across the room at Vince. Then his eyes find mine and he sees the look on my face.
And I watch him shatter like broken glass.
Dominic sees it too and speaks on behalf of the man he ruled beside for years. His voice is deep and cuts through the nervous chatter with ease. He sounds like the Dominic of old, like the Underboss we all respected. "Give us the room."
And they obey him like the words had come out of Liam's mouth itself.
But our king – in reality – is speechless. As am I.
Liam takes an unsteady step backwards before dropping his entire body to the sofa and lowering his head into his hands. Zara has finally spun from the television to face our lopsided circle. Her hands still cover her mouth as tears glisten underneath her full eyelashes. As each second passes, I feel Dominic's grip grow weaker and it isn't until Carmen rushes over does he let go. He backs away as she throws her arms around me in a suffocating hug.
I bend over a little to compensate for our slight height difference. It's a hug I never knew I needed and probably one of the best hugs I've ever been a part of. She hardly knows me, but it feels like she actually cares. It felt like she was holding me together and now I think I understand how Rico felt whenever they embraced.
Safe.
But then the moment ends, and the reality of the situation rushes back to me. The force of it all causes a few more tears to trickle out the corner of my eyes. And suddenly Carmen's hug is the last thing on my mind.
Austin moves around the far side of the sofa, visibly shaken. Steven trails behind, like usual, except this time he's uncharacteristically quiet.
"Boss, what should we do?" Austin waits, but Liam doesn't budge. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't even look up. "Liam, should we—"
"You don't know what to do?" The tone that laces Dominic's words isn't one I recognize. He moves past me and approaches the young man. "I'm sorry, but if you don't know what to do, then not only is this job not for you, but you and your shadow should've cleared the room with the others."
Austin's head jerks up, his eyes narrowing as his attention lands on Dom. He moves forward, but Steven slaps a hand on his shoulder, temporarily holding him back. "I'm sorry," Austin's eyes rake over Dominic's figure. "I know this isn't coming from the person who lost this job."
"I gave it up," Dominic corrects. "There's a difference."
"Austin, seriously," You can see Steven tugging his friend back, trying to diffuse the situation. His last few words are rushed as Austin slips away from his touch to approach Dom. "Don't get clobbered."
"I want to support you, but we just watched Faith's mother get executed and you're unsure as to what to do next?" Dominic pulls himself to his full height as Austin nears him. "Are you—"
"Are you going to give me advice?" Austin wonders, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Should I even take advice from you? From the same guy who once tried to take this family from his superior?"
Veleno lets out an exasperated breath and moves to stand between the two. He presses one hand against Dom's chest and another against Austin's, preparing to separate them if necessary. "Let's not do this right now, gentlemen."
"I was doing what I thought was best for the family." The temperature in the room is on the rise, but I'm not sure if it's because I'm about to pass out, or because of the rising level of testosterone. "At least I proved that I had a backbone, unlike you, who needs to be given orders every thirty seconds like an untrained dog—"
"Dominic." Liam's voice silences the group, and his gaze is enough to force Dom back – out of respect, not fear.
With a sigh, Liam looks up at Austin. "You want to help?" He questions, "Ian Crawford. Susan's husband, and Faith's adopted father. I want a group put together and sent to Maryland to check on him. Now."
My knees buckle.
Veleno rests his hands on my waist and steadies me.
We lock eyes.
Zara's make a sound. The first noise that's come out of her since that life changing moment. Her eyes are red, her cheeks stained with tears as they continue to roll down her face. She's been silently sobbing. Her shoulders shake as she tries to take a breath in. "It's all my—" She looks at me. "—I'm so fucking s—"
Dominic's voice is gentle as he reaches out to her, "Zara..."
Liam uses the handrest of the sofa to help lift himself to his feet. "Mom, this isn't on you."
But Zara doesn't want to hear it, and I know exactly how she feels. I know exactly what it's like to convince yourself of something and refuse to believe the words of anyone else as they try and tell you otherwise.
She darts around Dom's arms and ignores her son who reaches out for her. Carmen jumps out her path as she makes a beeline for the exit. Vincenzo is our last defense, and we all watch, wide-eyed as he reaches for her. He grabs her arm and pulls her to him, a conflicted look on his face.
"Z, don't cry." He intertwines their fingers as she looks away, wiping at her face. "It's not your fault."
Zara snatches her hand from his and leaves.
Vincenzo appears so worried for Zara that he momentarily forgets about his predicament. The muscles in his arms bulge as he clings to the armrests, mentally prepared to push himself up and chase her. Then he looks down at the wheelchair he's bound to, then at the casts that cover most of his legs. His shoulders immediately slump.
Vince turns back to what's left of the group and addresses Liam. "You should've just let me put a bullet in my head."
He wheels himself out the room.
"Can you stand?" I hear Veleno's voice in my ear, but I don't realize he's talking to me until I feel the tips of his cool fingertips brush along a few patches of exposed skin near my stomach. I flinch out of his grasp and yank my shirt down with a nod.
I wrap my arms around myself and step away from him with a quiet "Thank you," but the sensation of his fingers on my skin don't fade.
Liam lets out a breath as he leans his body against the armrest. His arms cross over one another. His gaze lands on mine as he mumbles, "This one's on me."
"No." I breathe out. "No." My chest suddenly constricts and with it comes a type of anger I've never felt before. It hurts. It burns my chest, as well as my throat as I shout. "Her death is on me! It's on me."
Tears blur my vision, stopping me dead in my tracks. Liam's figure is distorted, but if I move slow enough I know I'll eventually reach him. I pause in hopes of regaining composure, but when I speak again my voice shakes and I know there is nothing I can do to stop the emotion from rising.
"I knew what kind of man I was getting involved with when I crawled in bed with you! I knew the risks and I ignored them!" I send everyone a quick look, gauging their reactions. "I—I..." I steady my gaze on Liam. "I was too afraid to tell them, especially my mother, what you are because I knew exactly what she would say!"
Liam winces at my use of what and not who. He pushes himself away from the sofa and nears me, leaving not an inch of space between us. He challenges my shouts with a tense whisper. "What would she have said?"
"Leave him!" I shout the two words before Liam can finish his question. His face goes slack. "Leave him, Faith." He takes a step back as I whisper words that not only can I imagine my mother saying, but words I wish she had said months ago. "He's not worth it. He's not worth the pain, the worry, and the misery that he puts you through! He's not worth it. He'll never be worth it—"
I shut my mouth as Liam recoils.
And that's when I realize that those words were more mine than my mother's.
The ominous rumble of thunder that follows is timed perfectly.
I stagger backwards before spinning and sprinting out the suffocating room. I hit the foyer, then the two double doors that lead to freedom – to the outside. I shove my shoulder against the large doors and burst through. I stumble down the steps and loose my balance. The paved driveway rushes up to meet me. My palms make contact with it first, breaking my fall. Loose gravel and pebbles dig into my skin, but that isn't what releases a wave of fresh tears.
It isn't until I glance up at the sky; at the beautiful, bright, and shining sun do I cry even harder than before.
The rumble I heard was not a storm, but another piece of the foundation that holds this empire together disintegrate.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
I rap my knuckles against the apartment door and wait. I couldn't stay at the house, I couldn't. Instead, I grabbed the keys to one of the many cars at my disposal and left without a word. I've always been known as the responsible driver. The one that always does five-over the speed limit and no more – but I pushed that Mercedes as fast as it could go down the highway.
Now I understand why Liam drives the way he does when he's pissed. Punching the steering wheel makes you look stupid and slapping the window would hurt, but there's something calming about jamming your foot down on the accelerator. It's like pressing your foot down on the neck of whoever has hurt you, and the harder you press, the more they struggle to breathe.
I ended up slowing the car down as I neared the house, but I was still going twenty-five-over when a cop pulled behind me. I held my breath for fifteen seconds, anticipating his lights to turn on and the sound of his siren to echo across the three lanes of traffic. But it never came.
The cop had run the tags on the car, realized whose name it was registered in, and bailed.
I laughed of relief in the moment but came to realize that at least Liam had one good thing going for him.
He had allies in incredibly high and powerful places.
I rushed into a quiet house and I'm thankful nobody was there, because I cried. I could hardly make it up the steps, let alone drag myself into our bedroom. My lungs were burning and my cheeks red from agitation as I continued to hastily wipe them. My head pounded with an intensity I've never felt before and the weight on my shoulders was enough to cause me to collapse onto the mattress. I curled into a ball and ignored the temptation to call my father. I was too afraid to call. I was too afraid that he wouldn't answer.
So I suffered alone.
Until I didn't want to be alone anymore.
I threw on a pair of sweatpants that were three sizes too big with a crotch area designed for men. I yanked a black hoodie over my shirt and its tear-stained sleeves, before running down the steps, throwing open the door, and leaving.
That's how I found myself standing before the apartment door of the only friend I feel like I have.
I let my knuckles knock a random tune against the door and step back, continuing to wait.
My friend Nathaniel opens the door and the first thing I notice is how our outfits match. From the white socks that are hidden beneath my worn-out tennis shoes to the head of messy hair. He smiles, just like he does every time I see him, but it fades faster than usual. He doesn't ask me why I'm here. He doesn't question a thing, let alone speak. He just steps to the side and allows me in.
It takes everything in me not to burst into tears without a proper warning. I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood and turn around, watching as Nathaniel shuts the door behind us. He rotates around slowly, his eyes drifting over my baggy clothes. He rests his gaze on my red, puffy eyes and nods with a "Hm."
"How bad of a situation am I dealing with here?" His eyebrow rises. "Ben and Jerry's pint of ice-cream bad or hug it out with tissues bad?"
I lift and drop my shoulders in a weak shrug.
I can't even laugh.
"My mom—" That's how far I get before emotion overwhelms me again. I'm surprised tears are still pouring from my eyes, I could've sworn I'd cried myself dry. My sobs are muffled as Nathaniel pulls me against his chest and protectively wraps his arms around me. I lean against him, dampening his sweatshirt with my tears. I'm thankful for the hug, cause I'm not sure how long I can stand here, supporting my own body weight.
Never in my life have I ever felt this exhausted.
I don't fight Nate as he waddles us over to the sofa. He peels my face off his hoodie and lowers me to the comfortable piece of furniture. I can read his worry expression with ease, even through all the tears. He reaches for a box of tissue on the coffee table, right next to his Macbook.
I glance over at the screen and all I see is a white background, with blurred lines. Nathaniel subtly closes the lid, sending his laptop into sleep-mode. He sits on the edge of the sofa and offers me the box of Kleenex. I gladly take a handful.
I focus on my breathing and continue to dab underneath my eyes. I try as hard as I can to stop my entire body from shaking in grief, but it's harder to do than I ever thought. I grasp the wadded up balls of tissue into my fist and lower my attention to my hands.
I can't stop shaking.
Nathaniel notices and I'm thankful. He moves toward the wall and repeatedly taps the downward arrow on what I can only assume is the thermostat. With a quick hold on signal, I quietly watch as he dashes down the hall, only to return a second later with a fluffy blanket pressed against his chest. I laugh softly as he tosses it at me, sending me into complete darkness as it falls over my head.
I wrap my arms around the soft material and bury my face into it. It smells amazing. There's a hint of a woodsy smell mixed with a dash of citrus and spice. The combination may sound insane, but whatever work this company did made it a fragrance that can turn heads. I clutch the blanket to my chest and inhale again.
"I don't think you've ever worn this cologne around me," I mumble into the blanket.
"That's not my blanket. It's Gabe's."
"Oh." I take a good look around the quiet apartment at the mention of his brother's name. The kitchenette is spotless and clean. The clothes that were strewn across furniture and left in piles on the floor have been whisked away to the hamper. It's quiet and calm, and his brother is nowhere to be seen. "Where is he?"
Nathaniel gives me a look. "Faith, really? I'm more worried about you than—"
The image of Diavolo impaling my mother flashes before my eyes and my heartrate elevates. I'm suddenly haunted by the idea that everyone I've ever conversed with is in danger. I'm scared that even having a slight friendship with Gabe and his brother will put them right onto the path of the most destructive criminal organization this generation has ever seen. They don't deserve it.
I get chills.
"Relax." I nearly jump off the sofa as Nate's cool fingertips brush along my forearm. Despite the racing of my heart, I can feel my body beginning to obey his command. "Do you want to call him?" He leans forward and plucks his phone from its face-down position beside his laptop. "We can call him if you're that worried."
I begin to shake my head. "No, I—It's okay."
"Okay," He says slowly. "Do you want to talk about what happened with your m—"
Nathaniel's cellphone vibrates loudly in his hand. He gives it a quick glance.
"Well speak of the devil—" He presses the phone against his ear and turns his head away from me. "Gabe, hey, where are you?" I can't hear his brother's response but knowing he's okay and on the other end of the line is enough relief for me. "Yeah, I'm...yeah, no, I'm here with Faith." He looks over at me. "I'll tell you when you get back. Okay. Hey, behave yourself, okay? And have fun."
Nate lowers his voice even more as he mumbles a, "Love you," underneath his breath before ending the call.
We lock eyes, and a slow smile crosses his face. He raises his phone up to eye level and shakes it. "Gabe is perfectly fine. Now, can I worry about you?"
I cuddle up against the armrest of the sofa and drag the blanket up to my neck. "I'm not worth worrying about."
"Faith," Nathaniel sounds disappointed as he says my name. His hand fall to my leg, which he squeezes to gather my attention. I'm so used to his playful demeanor that the seriousness of this one throws me off. He doesn't look like he's about to laugh, or even crack a joke. He looks genuinely concerned for me.
I look away from him as the tears threaten to fall once more.
He doesn't pressure me as time passes. It's all about timing, because I know if I speak now, my voice is going to break and the dam that's holding back all of my tears will fail. I throw my legs off the sofa and sit back with a sigh.
"My mom died."
It doesn't even sound real coming from my own mouth.
But it is. It's real. And my mind proves it by showing me the sequence of events once more.
"Shit."
Nate's touch draws me back to the present and I'm thankful for it. I'm thankful for him. He rests a hand on the side of my face and draws me to his chest as I cry, again. I cry till it hurts. I cry till there's literally no more tears to cry, where all my body does is shiver and shake, and my breathing remains uneven. Nate doesn't say another word. His hand travels up and down my back in rhythmic circles. It's soothing, comforting.
Out of respect, he doesn't ask me how she died. I'm truly grateful, because not only do I not want to answer it, but I don't know how. So far, I've managed to successfully keep the majority of my life at home a secret and I swore to myself I always would. How could I explain to Nathaniel that my mother was murdered by a scary Russian and his son – the man whose nickname across every language known to man translates as Devil.
I doubt Nathaniel even knows the mafia exists, and to tell him that the man whose hand he shook just a few weeks ago is one of the many kings that reign it would surely send him into shock.
For that, and many other more important reasons that I don't mention, I keep the details of my mother's death private.
Nathaniel gently rubs my back and finally, breaks the silence. "Do you want to take a nap?"
I've never been one to nap throughout the day, but nothing sounds better than doing so right now. He pulls me to my feet and leads me around pieces of furniture. I thank him underneath my breath as he gingerly throws his arms around my shoulders and angles us in the direction of a hallway – the same hallway I remember Gabe sulking back to after registering the rude words Nathaniel had said about him.
We pass by a couple rooms. One is a coat closet, the other is a bathroom, and the third door is closed. The wood around the doorknob looks chipped and worn, like the door has been thrown, slammed, and violently shut on more than one occasion. Scratches line the door like decorations, and I frown.
Nate notices me falling behind and reaches back, gently yanking me forward. "Gabe's room." He doesn't elaborate anymore than that as we pass.
I risk a glance back at the doorknob leading to Gabe's room. It hangs lower than all the others, almost like it's been broken one too many times. My heart clenches.
And before I know it, I'm asking Nathaniel a question I never meant to voice out loud. "Are you treating him okay?"
Nate moves inside his room, which is located at the very end of the hall. He pushes the door wide open and looks at me, before risking a glance at his brother's door. "Don't worry about that," He shrugs with a grin. "He locks his door every single time he leaves his room and often forgets to bring the key with him, so he has to break the door down at least three times a week." Nate laughs to himself as we move inside the room.
"Why does he lock it so much?"
I wrap Gabe's blanket around myself like a cape and head towards the bed. My attention rests on Nate, watching as he slowly twists the blinds closed. He moves to another window and looks over his shoulder to answer.
"About two April Fool's Days ago his idiot brother and a friend decided to replace his anxiety medication with placebo's." As the final shade is drawn, the room darkens, and so does the look on Nate's face. "He had a panic attack so bad that day that we had to take him to the hospital."
I scrunch up my face. "That isn't funny at all."
"Yeah, I know." He looks sincerely regretful of the horrible joke he pulled. "I'm still apologizing, but...yeah, he doesn't like to keep his room unlocked."
"Is his room as clean as yours, though? That's the real question." I stand up and with the blanket trailing behind me, I move around his bedroom.
I've seen college dorm rooms with more personality than this one. He has one picture on the wall, and it isn't of his brother, mother, or father. It's a basic ocean landscape scene that you can find in any home decoration section at any store from here to the east coast.
Even the top of Nate's dresser is spotless. A few disposable razors lie on top, along with a couple sparkling necklaces and wrist watches. My eyes skim over a decorative ring, but I don't stop to check it out.
I turn around, only to find him watching me from the other-side of the room. "Your bedroom doesn't match your personality."
He lets out a loud laugh and shoves his hands down his pockets. The force is enough to lower the waistband of his sweats and reveal the brand of his underwear. "If only you knew how many men and women have been in here and said the same—"
I step toward the bed with a curious expression on my face. "How many men and women have been in this bed exactly?"
Nate's cheeks burn red.
It's my turn to laugh as I throw myself on top of his duvet and sink. I roll over, grab his pillow, and situate myself comfortably beneath the soft blanket.
"The sheets are clean," Nate assures me with a smile. "I promise."
I remember seeing Nathaniel slowly ease the door closed, making sure to keep it open just enough that if I were to call, he could answer. But I don't remember falling asleep. I don't even remember what my last thought was, but if I had to take a guess, it was my mother – because the nightmare I had was about her.
The dream was an endless loop of my Susan calling out to me, telling me to help her, and no matter how much I tried, no matter how much I fought, and cried, I couldn't save her. I could never reach her in time. I felt like I watched her die a hundred more times in my dream until I'm jolted awake by a weird feeling.
I slap a hand to my forehead and wipe at my sweat.
The feeling in the pit of my gut persists.
I risk a glance at the digital clock on Nathaniel's nightstand. I didn't need it to tell me that evening had fallen. There was a significant difference in how much light was peering through the cracks in the blinds, and I knew night was almost upon us.
I toss Gabe's blanket off my legs and dig for my phone.
No notifications.
Not one missed call or text.
I'm not disappointed or surprised.
"You're awake."
My first thought went straight to Diavolo. Somehow, he had found me, which I truly don't think would be hard to do. He snuck inside Nathaniel's apartment and decided to chill out and wait till I awoke. That was my fear, which explains why in the heat of the moment, I decide to chuck my phone in the direction of the deep voice as self-defense.
Veleno catches it with practiced-reflexes and draws my attention to his blind eye by winking it.
I let out a sigh of relief.
My head hits the pillow as I lie down. "Jesus, Veleno." I slap a hand against over my heart to feel its intense and rapid beating. "You scared me."
"And you've worried me." I hear the door softly click shut. The wooden floorboards creak as Veleno glides over them to peer down at me. He wiggles my phone between his fingers, and I swear I spot a hint of a teasing grin underneath the shadows of the hood that's tugged over his head. He drops my phone to the mattress and stuffs his hands inside his pockets.
I roll over on my side and glance up at him, but the dark room makes it hard. "How long have you been here?"
"Long enough." Veleno turns and scans the room, even under the pitiful amount of light. His eyes drift over the door, then the windows, scanning every possible exit out of habit. He shuffles his feet and takes a couple steps back. "I didn't want to wake you up, but I don't think I can last another second talking to that—character."
He laughs a bit and tugs the hood off his head. I look up at him from my position and do my best to hide a weak smile. Veleno would be that person who could open his front camera and still manage to look good at any angle. His blue eye is almost as piercing and electric as it is in the light. His cheekbone and jawline are sharp, and the light facial hair that lines his chin helps. I never would have classified him as a pretty boy, but that's exactly what he is.
He's pretty in a ruggedly-handsome, mysterious way.
He's unique.
I like unique.
I clutch Nathaniel's pillow as Veleno turns his head to face me. "Why are you here?"
He shrugs underneath his black hoodie. "Somebody had to come check on you and bring you back."
"How did you even find me?"
Veleno doesn't look away and while he fights a smile, I fight the urge to mentally curse Liam out – again.
"You shouldn't have had to do that. You shouldn't have been the one burdened with the responsibility of trying to find me. Liam should be here."
"Hey," Veleno's voice is soft, yet commanding as I look up. He moves closer. "Liam would be here, but along with everyone else, we didn't think it was a good idea. Carmen wanted to come as well, but she figured you wouldn't have listened to her. Zara is a mess, she thinks it's her fault. Vince is, well, Vince. Dominic is with Liam, and Liam, well...he wanted to come, like I said, but he knew if he got within ten feet of you, you would've decked him."
Veleno doesn't see my smile. "Accurate."
There's a pause before he speaks again. "I want to apologize for laying my hands on you the other night." I lean up on my elbow, curious. "I meant what I said, but I didn't have to touch you." His eye darts from one of mine to the other. "I'm sorry."
I sit up slowly. "I shouldn't have said what I said, knowing it bothers you."
Veleno lets out a breath, one mirroring a laugh and glances down at his feet.
I keep my attention trained on him. "I just...never thought you had a trigger."
He looks up and over at me. I grasp the blanket tight as the shadows of the room cast themselves across Veleno's face. The ray of gentle light falls across his features, illuminating the white haze of his blind eye, while the blue of his other is dim and dark. The scar that runs down a portion of his forehead, past his eyebrow, over his eye, and down his cheek shimmers like glitter as he gently sways.
I move back a little.
"Everyone has a trigger." Veleno runs his tongue along his set of top teeth. "Even me, but that isn't an excuse to hurt you. So, again, I'm sorry."
I throw my legs over the side of the bed and nod. "You're forgiven, but now I'm curious. What's my trigger?"
He smiles. "When I figure it out, I'll let you know."
I nod again.
"As much as I love talking to you though, we should go." He extends his large hand to me. "I know you don't want to go back to the house right now, and I understand that Liam may not be someone you want to see at this particular moment in time, but I need you to trust me."
I stare at him, frozen. "But I'm scared."
"Of?" His hand doesn't move, still suspended between us.
"I don't want to go back there, only to see my father die this time."
Veleno lowers his hand. "Trust me when I say that none of our people are going to be the one's dying tonight. Okay? Do you trust me?"
I pull myself to my feet and wrap my arms around Veleno in a suffocating hug. It surprises him. It catches him completely off guard. I hear air leave him as I shut my eyes and squeeze, desperately needing someone to hold on to as another wave of unpredicted emotions hit me out of nowhere. I grip his hoodie as more tears threaten to spill. I can't believe I still have some left to cry.
"I trust you," I mumble against him.
His arms wrap themselves around in me an uncoordinated and awkward fashion, but it's a hug none-the-less and I'm glad to have it.
Now it's my turn to ask. "Do you trust me?"
"I trusted a woman, once, and she threatened to go to the police."
I look up.
"I trusted another woman—" I lift my hand, watching as he lowers the eyelid of his right eye. He bows a little, making it easier for me to rise to the tip of my toes and trace his scarred skin with my index finger. I trace the scar from the tip of his brow to the middle of his cheek. "—and I lost my eyesight."
I have so many questions, but none that I want answered right now, this very second. I'm so captivated by the close-up view of his scar that I squeal when his right eye reopens. I've seen it from afar, but never this close. I never knew it was possible to think that the glossy, marble-like appearance of his right eye is even prettier than his left.
His arm tightens around my waist as he keeps me propped against him, analyzing his injury like a scientist under the scope.
Without warning, Veleno uses all of the upper body strength that he has and carelessly tosses me over his shoulder. He made it seem so effortless that I find myself wondering if the scale that I stand on nearly every morning to check my weight is accurate. His hands tighten around my thighs to assure that I'm not going anywhere.
"But I trust you, Ms. Crawford."
"Faith." I correct him. "Just call me Faith. That's what all my friend's call me."
"Okay, Faith."
"Thank you, V."
We move towards the door, but he stops to gently pat the back of my thigh. "No, thank you, F."
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
Something has changed. I notice it the minute Veleno escorts me through the front doors. The chatter that passes our ears is electric and full of excitement and hope. The same dejected faces that I stumbled past earlier look alive and eager. I don't know what it is, but something is different.
"What's going on?"
Veleno doesn't say a word as he steers me around groups of congregating family members. His palm that rests on the lower-end of my back is like a scorch. I focus more on his touch than where he's leading me – and once I realize exactly where we're going, I plant all of my weight into the ground, forcing us to a stop.
"I don't want to talk to him, Veleno—I don't—"
"You trust me, right?"
I glance at the door leading to Liam's office, then back to him. "Not this much."
The corner of his lip turns upwards as he twists the doorknob. "You should," is all he says before shoving me through the office doors and shutting them behind me.
I feel like I've stepped into a sauna, not because I'm pissed at Veleno for leaving me here, but because Liam is leaning against his large desk looking like an absolute snack. His hair is combed and styled, a few strands purposely falling over his forehead. The indigo blue suit jacket hugs his shoulders and the dress pants do the same to his thighs. His recently cleaned dress shoes glisten underneath the lights of his office, along with the diamond watch that clings to his wrist.
I throw my arms across my chest and turn away just as he looks up. I do not want to be caught staring.
You're pissed Faith. You're still pissed.
I clear my throat and awkwardly shuffle my feet. "Any update on my father?"
My peripheral vision catches Liam pushing himself away from his desk and inching forward with his hands shoved deep inside his pockets. The movement constricts his dress pants, and not only does it define his thighs even more, but also his crotch.
My throat is dry.
"A team is en route. I'll let you know when we know something."
I exaggerate my nod, yet still refuse to look in his direction as he subtly approaches. "Thank you."
I keep my arms wrapped around myself, my eyes trained on the wall, and my body angled away from his. He stops approaching as my body stiffens. He gets close enough for me to inhale the addicting scent of his cologne, yet still manages to keep himself at a distance.
"I'm going to call Valentin back—"
That makes me laugh. Hard.
I spin to face him, confusion lining my features. "To do what? Talk about the weather? Is that why you wanted me here?" I can hear the anger in my voice, and I know Liam spots it too because when I step towards him, he does the unthinkable.
He steps back.
"Or what?" I continue, reiterating exactly what I told Veleno earlier. "To watch my father, die this time? Was my mother not enough?"
Liam doesn't respond.
My chest feels tight, just like it did this morning when I snapped. The only difference is that I don't fight it this time. "You know, Valentin is right. Everyone is right! You never do what needs to be done. You will never do what needs to be done!" I'm the one to close the space between us, watching as Liam slowly backs into his desk. He tried to keep his distance and I didn't let him.
I jab a finger into his chest. "I'm going to say what everyone has been thinking for years. The only reason you are known and feared in this organization is because of your last name! Thank the generations of kings that came before you! Thank Lucky Luciano! Thank your grandfather! Thank Michael! But you—" I lean forward and spit the word out like venom, "—you're a bitch."
I would read deep into the expression on Liam's face, but I don't care about it. I'm too busy telling him what he needs to hear.
"The same damn thing with Peter Corinelli. You knew what needed to be done. You knew he wasn't going to stop until he had me, yet you still refused to give me up!" I slap my palm against my chest, drawing his drifting eyes to mine. "I had to grow the pair and make the decision because you've never been able to do what needed to be done."
I let out a breath and step back, partially out of fear of his reaction.
But Liam doesn't do or say a thing. He just watches me, intently, as if my outburst still hasn't completely registered. But I don't back down. I hold my head high because I meant every single goddamn word I said.
"I grew up wanting to be like my father, every young boy does," Liam sounds hurt, yet sincere as his eyes search mine. His jacket clings to his arms, emphasizing the size of his biceps as he folds them across his chest. "I thought he was amazing. But then I saw what his actions did and I witnessed the consequences of them. I watched him scare my mother away. I saw him lose friends. I saw him lose himself in the bottle and I swore to myself, as a young man, that I would never be like him."
A vision of a young Liam standing before a mirror, promising to himself to never become the monster he witnessed his dad transform into tugged at my hardening heart.
Liam steps toward me, jaw clenched. "I broke that promise to myself, and I broke ours."
A sickening feeling circulates in my gut. "You still haven't told me what promise you broke."
"Then let me show you." He extends his hand.
And I swear my hand doesn't fit in his like it used to.
I feel like I'm being dragged – rather than led – to wherever we're heading. We enter the foyer, turn the corner, and walk straight inside the room I had just run out of only a few hours ago. My airways narrow as the sea of curious men part, allowing Liam and I to reach the front.
Valentin Rostov is already on screen, holding a conversation with Veleno.
"Veleno," Valentin's eyes stay locked on Vincenzo's assassin. He doesn't even appear to see us. "I've heard a lot about you."
Veleno shifts his weight to his right foot and throws her arms behind his back. He looks up at the screen. "Should I be honored?"
"I've known about you since your days in Italy," Valentin admits. "The fact that your name even crossed the lips of a Russian before you made a significant impact in any criminal organization is impressive."
Veleno keeps his voice even. He honestly sounds uninterested. "You've been keeping tabs on me for that long?"
"I have. You remind me of my boy. Just a little less refined. Nothing a little more training couldn't fix, though. You should think about it."
Veleno smiles. "Hard pass."
Valentin looks like he wants to reply and keep the conversation going, but his eyes catch Liam's and I swear his face lightens like he's just spotted the love of his life from across a parking lot. His smile widens, and my stomach churns at the sight of it.
"Liam!" He throws his hands up in the air in an overly exaggerated greeting. "I was just talking to Crip, here," He motions toward the bottom of the screen, in Vincenzo's direction. "We were just catching up. You know," His eyes lift to mine. "You never did introduce me to your absolutely gorgeous girlfriend."
I flip him off.
He turns to Liam with a smug grin. "She's perfect for you."
"I wanted to clear the air between us Valentin," Liam ignores his random chatter and directs the conversation where he wants it to go.
"What air is there to clear?" Valentin questions. "Everything I said about you is true, and if you don't believe it then maybe you should google the term denial."
Liam frowns. "While I do that, you should google the word underestimate – since you and every single person in this house, and in this organization that my name founded has done it to me."
Valentin snorts. "Are you saying you should be feared? How many times must I say this. You are not Michael."
"And how many times must I say that no, I am not, but I am his son."
"You're a bitch."
"Speaking of one," Liam tilts his head to the side, "How is Mrs. Rostov?"
Valentin's eyelids lower in a glare. "This is second time you've brought up the name of my wife. Mrs. Rostov is currently on a vacation. A cruise with her friends for the next couple weeks. Now, if we're done here—"
"Your wife isn't on a cruise, Valentin." Liam sounds like he's called the Russian out on a lie, at least that's what it appears to half the room initially. But then things take a shocking turn. "And her friends are floating in the ocean, but they aren't on a boat."
Oh, holy s—
They march in. Two soldiers dressed from head to toe in military gear. Guns rest gingerly in the holsters on their hip and thigh, while their larger, more powerful weapon is slung over their back. My eyes immediately fall to the woman that they're dragging across the hardwood floor.
She's pale, even paler than Valentin but I'll blame that on the loss of blood. A deep laceration runs across her forehead. Dried blood cakes the right side of her face. Her left is bruised, tainted a color between black and blue. Her eyes is swollen and her lips are chapped, but that doesn't stop her from screaming at the top of her lungs.
I look up at Liam, and our eyes meet for half-a-second.
He looks away. "Who the fuck took her gag off?"
The woman is dropped at his feet. "Veleno requested that her gag be removed," One states in a loud and boastful voice. The two soldiers then nod and respectfully bow in Liam's presence, before spinning around and letting their long strides take them out the room.
Liam looks at Veleno, who just shrugs. "I like hearing them scream. It's a kink."
"Sick bastard."
The two bump shoulders as they turn back towards the screen.
Valentin is livid. His complexion that typically resembles the shade of transparent is now red. His eyebrows are pushed together, and he shouts something in his native tongue. He holds a conversation that doesn't involve us, clearing getting people on his side of the screen caught up as to what was happening.
"Let. Her. Go."
Liam's smile is different, yet similar all at once. It's the same one I remember seeing that day in his basement; that time when we first met.
He reaches down, grabs the woman's dark hair, and yanks her up to him. She whimpers as more sobs escape her lips. "Russian's so sensitive." Liam's mocks a Russian accent as more men pile around Valentin on screen. "Not surprised. The man they considered their best couldn't even protect his wife. She's a weeping mess. I beg myself to kill her so I can stop listening to her cry like pussy."
Valentin doesn't say a word, and I don't expect him to. Liam has silenced him and all of his soldiers that surround him with the same disrespectful speech he gave us about Rico, just altered differently.
Diavolo parts the growing crowd as he appears on screen, dressed no differently than earlier. The sheer, black fabric that he wears gently tosses in the breeze as he walks forward, eyes trained on the screen. He comes to hover directly behind Valentin's right shoulder and stands still.
"Save me, please," Valentin's wife grabs my arm and tugs, pulling me close. Her desperation is clear, so is her innocence. She's just another woman, like me, who got involved with the wrong man. She's as innocent as my mother was. "Please, please—you don't understand—"
Liam yanks her away as she continues to scream, drawing everyone's attention, "You don't understand! You're angering the wrong man! My baby!" She reaches for the screen and I swear I see Diavolo take a small step forward. "My baby!"
She falls to her knees as Diavolo tries to move past Valentin. The Don doesn't let him get any closer to the screen. "I love you," She cries.
Veleno hands an object to Liam before leaning forward and grabbing the woman. He pulls her to her feet and presses her against his chest. That's when I see the glint of the sharp-end of the knife.
Liam looks at me, and I to him. "You made me promise all those months ago that I would never hurt an innocent person. I broke that promise when I had her taken weeks ago. I broke that promise when I struck her." His finger runs down the side of her cheek, motioning towards one of her many bruises. He tilts the woman in such a way that it exposes her neck. She struggles, but there's no way she can fight against Liam's strength. "I broke that promise when I starved her in the basement of this home because I knew it would come to this."
Liam's hand covers her mouth, muffling her sobs, but her eyes do all the pleading. I can spare her. All I have to do is say the word. I'm her last chance. I want to save her, but I want Valentin to feel the same way I felt hours ago.
I want him to feel how I feel.
So, I don't say a word.
"Liam." Valentin fights to keep his voice steady. "I made statement by killing your friends. I made statement by killing her mother. I've done all of this without him." He motions over his right shoulder at a fidgeting Diavolo. "You do what I think you're about do, and I'll unleash hell on you. I unleash him."
Liam glances at me, ignoring Valentin. "I broke our promise, and I am not sorry."
I witness his transformation.
And I watch Liam drive the knife through the neck of Valentin's wife as she screams.
Her body hits the floor, and in a move of utter disrespect, Liam steps over it and points to Valentin. "Unleash him, then."
Diavolo lets out a growl that isn't human. It takes six men to restrain him, to keep him from lunging at the television in pure anger.
"Go the hell," Valentin fumes.
Veleno chuckles. "You must not have heard. Like William Shakespeare once said, hell is empty." He points to the floor as a smile spreads his lips apart. "All the devils are right here."
Liam makes a cutting motion across his throat and the screen goes black.
He turns on a dime and addresses the entire room, "Double security."
His eyes land on me next.
We're at war."
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
a/n: *in a stadium full of women reading potere, a lone soul, the author, stands and shouts* KING HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
whew this is only chapter 11 buckle up bitch
p.s. to everyone that's going to ask me 'how did he get valentin's wife' like pls give me a moment to explain. Writers tip #1: you cannot explain detailed information in a scene as tough as the one above bc it'll ruin momentum. So, you'll find out sooner or later .