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Papa turns on the two men, his face now twisted with rage.
“When is the time? When do we find the bastard who did this? When will we bring justice to my wife? My wife who wasmurdered?My wife whose dead body is being buried into the ground as we speak?!”
I shrink back into Dario, clutching onto Mr. Buttons even tighter.
My brother pulls me closer to him, one hand sliding protectively around my body as though he’s trying to shield me.
My throat tightens.
When one of the other underbosses steps forward—Umberto, I think—he raises both hands in a calming gesture.
“We will find the motherfucker who slaughtered Serena. I swear it, Francesco. But you need to—”
Papa only growls.
“I dare you to tell me to calm down. I dare you, Umberto!”
For a moment, it looks like he’s going to hit Umberto.
I whimper into Mr. Button’s damp fur.
One by one, other men step forward, not hesitating to grab Papa as they pull him back before anything can happen. I watch Papa struggle against the hold of all the men, his voice rising as he spits out at them, his words a mix of Italian and English now, his voice sounding so sharp and angry.
I don’t understand everything he’s saying, but I think Dario does from the way he chokes up behind me, his arm shaking around my body.
The men wrestle Papa backward, pulling him away from the grave, muttering reassurances that I don’t think they even believe themselves.
Papa finally stops fighting.
His shoulders slump, and his head drops forward, his breathing ragged.
I don’t want to look at Papa like this, but I can’t stop myself. He’s on his knees now, his hands clenched into fists on the ground. His head is bowed, and his shoulders are shaking now. He looks small, like the weight of everything is crushing him completely.
I have never seen Papa like this.
He has always been so big, so strong. He has always been the one who keeps calm, the one who fixes everything for everybody else.
I don’t like seeing Papa like this.
Again, Dario clears his throat behind me.
I glance up at him, but he won’t look at me. His eyes are fixed on the grave, his face pale. His chest shakes against my back, and his eyes are shiny with tears.
Like Papa, I’ve never seen Dario like this before.
He has always been my big brother, seven years older than me so he’s always been the stronger one out of the two of us; the one who always tells me that everything will be okay. But now, he’s holding me so tightly that I can barely breathe, and I don’t even know what to do.
Now, I hear the soft creak of the coffin being lowered into the ground.
I turn around, watching, and my stomach twists at the sight of it happening right in front of me.
“No.”
I whisper, the word barely audible.
My brother hears me though.
Dario holds me tighter, his voice cracking as he speaks softly to me.