Page 22

Adriano

I sit in the back room of the warehouse, the space reeling with rust and sweat, staring at Vinny.

He’s tied to a chair, wrists raw from rope, sweat pouring down his face like he’s melting.

My guys dug up the dirt this morning: messages to Henry Holden, leaking my shipments, my safe houses, every move I make.

Traitor. I don’t hesitate. I rise, pull my gun from my waistband, and jam it against his skull.

He whimpers, a wet stain spreading down his leg, his words tumbling out.

“Please, Adriano, I swear it was just—”

I fire. The shot booms, blood splatters the wall, and his head lolls, body sagging like a broken doll. My crew lines the room, eight sets of eyes locked on me, none daring to blink. I turn, gun still warm in my hand, and wipe it on my sleeve.

“Anyone else want to rat me out to Holden?” I say, voice cold. “He thinks me backing out of his daughter’s wedding gives him a free pass to fuck up my life? I will rip your throats out before he blinks.”

Silence. They know I mean it. I storm out and step into the night after the workday fades.

The cold is harsh tonight as I slide into my car and rev the engine.

Henry’s a scavenger, that’s how he was able to get me an unrecorded incident in the first place when all my other sources couldn’t.

He is always circling, but I’m primed, waiting for his next play.

My head drifts, though, tires buzzing on the highway, and it’s been three days since I last saw Penelope.

Three days since I tore open my heart in my kitchen, letting her see the rot inside about Carla, Sophia, and the whole ugly mess my life has been. Nobody’s ever gotten that piece of me, and now she’s gone quiet, a shadow I cannot shake.

I overtake the sluggish trucks. These three days of silence wear away at me, a knife sinking deeper with every mile.

She’s flipped something in me, and I despise how it weakens me, but I crave it too.

I cannot keep driving away from her. I cannot be away from her.

I jerk the wheel, spinning the car in a screeching U-turn, gravel spitting under the tires, and head straight for her place.

My phone’s in my hand while at a traffic light, and I type, words spilling out, raw, unfiltered, laying my soul bare.

Penelope. My world was a gutter before you, a cold, filthy place where I broke bones and scrubbed blood from my palms, living like some chained animal with nothing to hope for.

Just darkness and sadness. Then Sophia came, my little girl, and she changed everything.

She was this tiny spark, her giggles lighting up parts of me I thought were dead, her hands tugging my hair like she could pull me into something good.

Losing her cracked me wide open, left an ache I carry every day, a hollow I cannot escape.

I hear her voice in quiet moments, see her chasing shadows in my dreams, and I would trade my last breath to hold her again, but life does not give second chances.

Then you stepped in, Penelope, and it was like the sun broke through.

You are wild and strong, a flame I cannot look away from, and I am just a wrecked man who should not even dare to touch you, but I cannot stop wanting you, needing you.

That night haunts us both, a scar we carry, and I know we feel the weight of it, the guilt twisting in our guts for chasing this love despite it.

But if it never happened, I know Sophia would not have totally hated the idea of us.

Sometimes I see her in dreams, her small smile beaming down at us—at me struggling to be more for you, to become a man worth your fire.

Maybe it’s just my mind grasping for comfort, weaving hope from ghosts, but something inside me, knowing my little girl, tells me if she were here, she would want this—want me to fight for something good, for you.

I am so damn tired of keeping you in the dark, shoving you into shadows like you are some sin I am afraid to own.

You are not a mistake, Penelope. You are everything I never knew I could have.

You are not a secret or sin. You are the one thing I want to get right.

You are my heartbeat, the fight in my chest, the reason I look up some mornings.

I want you beside me, out loud, where everyone can see, because you deserve that.

I have been a mess my whole life, but you make me believe I could be different.

With you, I see something real. A life, a home, us.

I love you, Penelope, and it shakes me to my core because I have never known how to hold something so good without breaking it.

But I want to learn. For you, I would try anything.

Call me, please. I miss your voice more than I can stand.

I hit send and lean back, picturing her.

Not just her body—the way she arches under me, her skin hot, her nails carving my back in ways that could end me—but everything else too.

The way she bites her lip when she’s pissed, hiding a storm behind those eyes.

How she hums off-key when she cooks, oblivious, stirring sauce like it’s a battle she’s winning.

Her laugh when she finds something funny even when no one else does.

How she fidgets with her hair when she’s nervous, twisting strands until they knot, and I’ve memorized every twitch, every tell.

She’s stubborn, calls me out when I’m a prick, but softens when I least expect it, brushing my hand like I’m worth touching.

I want to be better for her, to crawl out of this pit, and she makes me believe I could.

The road stretches when I merge onto the express, my headlights cutting through fog, and I’m lost in her, imaging her voice, her scent, the way she fights me and fits me all at once. How I wish I can just close my eyes and be there by her side. Then suddenly a loud bang jolts me, then another.

I’m trying to contemplate what just happened when I feel both back tires burst, rubber peeling off in chunks, and the car swerves hard.

I curse like that would somehow help, but it spins out as the tires shriek.

I try to rein in control to break my crash and reduce the effect on impact but the force is so strong.

The metal crashes into the guardrail as glass shatters inward, slashing my face and my neck.

The world flips three times on the road, the sky blurring, and I crash down, roof crumpling, pinning me. Pain explodes in my skull, ribs, everywhere and blood floods my mouth, thick and bitter. My phone glows on the floor, her name bright, but I cannot move, I cannot reach it.

Her face flashes, a mental image in my head, glaring at me, laughing, whispering my name.

Sophia too, giggling, tugging my beard. My girls.

Blood drips, pooling under me, and I know I’m done.

Henry’s behind this, or maybe it’s just my luck running dry.

Either way, I’m fading and she’s all I see—Penelope—her strength, her flaws, the only thing I ever got right.

I wanted to fix this, to love her out loud, but I’m too weak to fight it.

Tires squeal outside and I hear voices shout. A woman’s scream pierces the haze.

“Oh my God, someone’s in there!”

A man yells back, “Call 911, he’s bleeding bad!”

Footsteps crunch glass as a stranger’s face peers through the wrecked window, wide-eyed. “Hang on, buddy, help’s coming!”

But I’m slipping, my breath shallow, her name stuck in my throat as everything goes black.

This life was always a gamble. I knew loyalty, blood, and power mattered and I played it hard.

I have no mercy, no regrets. I built walls, kept my crew tight, but it’s dust now.

Sophia’s gone. Penelope’s out there, holding my heart, which I never gave her properly, and I cannot tell her goodbye.

I wanted to be her shield, to be her chance at something good, but I guess life had other plans.

I’m just another body on the road, and the last thing I feel is her, burning bright as I sink into nothing.

At least I might see Sophia again, her little arms reaching for me. That softens the sting, makes this cold less bitter.