Page 2 of Blood Moon (La Famiglia De Luca)

Chapter 1

Leo

“Showbiz” — Palaye Royale

N o one in my family understood what it’s like to lose half of yourself. They didn’t know what it’s like to wake up one day and feel like something is missing. The hollowness in your chest. The constant pressure that builds from within, and every time that it feels like I’ll finally combust and get relief… nothing. Instead, it’s the same emptiness.

As I rolled over, I pushed the slender arm off my body. I crawled over the other curved form under the sheet and then out of the bed. Honestly, I had no idea who they were. Not that I cared either.

Unabashedly naked, I stumbled to the bathroom. There were several pills scattered across the counter. Unconcerned about what they were, I grabbed a couple, popped them in my mouth, and washed them down with the last of the whiskey in the glass beside them. I wasn’t sure which ones I took, but I’d brought them, so they were one of two things.

When I lifted my gaze to the mirror, I almost winced. Red claw marks were scattered over my chest and shoulders. Fuck, were those teeth marks? I dropped my gaze to my chest where, sure enough, there were two curved marks with the perfect indents of teeth. Then I studied my reflection.

My inky hair stuck up in several directions.

There were dark circles under my bloodshot eyes.

My cheeks were a bit more sunken than they had been a week ago.

Francesco would be disgusted with me. Pushing away that tiny kernel of guilt, I leaned over and splashed cold water on my face. Then I wet my hair so I could smooth it down a bit, silently dressed, and left the room.

“Where the hell were you last night?” Vittorio demanded when I entered the little cabin we’d stayed in at the resort for the book signing. Specifically, it was called Motorcycles, Mobsters, and Mayhem—which I found ironically hilarious that my mom was so dead set on going.

“Out,” I replied.

“No shit. You were supposed to tell me if you weren’t staying in the cabin,” he snapped back.

“Fuck off, Vittorio. Last time I checked, I was a grown-ass man.”

“You might be, but you are still the brother of the La Cosa Nostra don. You need to be careful,” he countered. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for that,” I grumbled as I pushed past him to pack. “Any more than we asked to be the sons of the mafioso. Maybe if we hadn’t been….”

“Leo,” Vittorio spoke my name in both warning and pain. Trust me, I understood that pain better than anyone.

I ripped my shirt from last night over my head, then pulled out clean clothes that I set to the side. Before anything, I needed a quick shower. I smelled like pussy. Not that it was a bad thing in the moment, but the next day? My lip curled in disgust.

Five minutes later, I was out of the bathroom with a towel around my waist. I quickly dressed and threw my shit in my suitcase. Once I was done, I zipped it up and dropped it to the floor with a thunk. By the familiar numbness that started to seep into my bones, I knew it was oxy kicking in—thank fuck.

Knowing I’d soon be floating, I rolled the small suitcase past my scowling brother. My feet were getting heavier, and my body seemed buoyant as I approached the SUV. Pietro took it from me and loaded it, so I climbed in the back seat, laid my head back, and immediately dropped off into oblivion.

I barely remembered arriving back at my parents’ place. When we arrived, I went straight to my room and took a nap. Then I woke up, drank by the pool until I crashed again. If my parents didn’t live in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, I would’ve gone into town for some entertainment. I would’ve taken an Uber into Austin, but none would drive out to get me.

After waking up to the obnoxious and insane sound of my alarm in the wee hours of the morning, I went downstairs. I needed fucking coffee. My ass was dragging, and I was supposed to leave soon with my brothers. We had an early morning return flight to Chicago—not that I was crazy about the thought of going back to Chicago today. I’d rather be hopping a plane to Vegas. Or better yet, Greece or Dubai.

Big brother had dictated that I go back with him and Vittorio. Alessio had left last night because he was a dick. He told them he had a job to get back to, but I’m pretty sure he was full of shit.

I stopped by the kitchen and grabbed one of my mom’s giant mugs and filled it from the gourmet coffee maker.

“Good morning, son,” my mom announced as she entered the room.

“Morning,” I mumbled before lifting my cup to my lips.

Mom poured her own cup and added her cream and sugar. The entire time, she side-eyed me, and I pretended not to see her doing it.

“Leo…” she began but paused.

The tone of her voice stirred my anxiety, and my skin went prickly. I could tell a lot of people to fuck off, but my mom wasn’t one of them. She was about to say something that was going to make me uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to hear it. I dropped my gaze to my mug and didn’t make eye contact.

“We all miss him… but you can’t keep killing yourself trying to forget.”

“Mom,” I started in an almost pleading tone as I closed my eyes against the burning behind my lids.

“Leo, I don’t want to lose another son,” she whispered, and I could hear the tears in her voice.

My heart fractured.

Because I couldn’t promise her that.

“I know.” It was the best I could do.

“Better suck that coffee down. We need to leave in fifteen,” Gabriel clipped as he entered the room with Vittorio on his heels.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Mom asked Gabriel.

“I wish we could,” Gabriel lied. I knew he was lying because he hated Texas.

None of us could figure out why they moved to Texas of all places. They were happy, so I guess that’s all that mattered. I didn’t mind visiting them, but never in a million years would I want to live there.

Now it was time to go back to Chicago, play the good brother long enough to get Gabriel and Vittorio off my back.

* * *

Approximately one year later…

I was fed the fuck up. Gabe and Vittorio thought that if they kept me on a leash, I would “straighten up.” Alessio got me more than the other two, but he wasn’t around a lot. I knew damn well what he did for a living, and between that and his new family, I rarely saw him.

Not that I held that against him. I was glad my brothers had found love and happiness despite the dark world we were born into. They simply didn’t understand the hollowness that existed in my chest since the day Francesco died. They had no idea.

It was like this angry bitterness was eating away at my insides, and that hollowness was growing with each passing day. No matter how many times I saw my counselor, I couldn’t seem to move on. I was stuck and stagnant—the rage chipping away at my sanity.

None of the stupid “coping skills” the therapist tried to get me to use seemed to work. Not that I’d tried very hard.

The drugs, booze, and women were the only things that had kept me numb. Now, with the help of my brothers and their henchmen, aka my babysitters, I could rarely lose myself in my vices.

Fuckers.

At just shy of twenty-six, I shouldn’t have to answer to a single motherfucker.

I’d contemplated ending it all so many times, I’d lost count. Each time, I couldn’t go through with it. Not because I’d been afraid or chickened out. It was seriously like there were invisible forces that stopped me or sabotaged each attempt. I’d been left with a tingly, almost eerie chill.

They say time heals all wounds, but it didn’t seem like that was true for me.

Each day seemed to get harder and harder.