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T he shock stays with me even though I have to shake it off to think properly. Val needs me, and I have to be there for him. It’s really our luck he had dropped in to check on Mamma , she forced him to stay for a late meal, and he was still there when the call came from the US.

“Go,” Kaya urges me.

I have to. The last thing I want to do is leave her, but this is force majeure , and I need to be there for my cousin. Whatever’s going on between me and her, it will have to wait. I think she also understands this—now is just not the time.

I nod and run a hand over her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple before hightailing it out of the club. It’s almost midnight, and there’s no chance I’ll get a taxi at this time given how this area is a dead zone on nights when most of the clubs are closed. It’ll be easier to hot-foot it to my parents’ place.

It takes me a moment at a steady jog, then I’m arriving at their building, making it up the stairs to pound on the door. When Mamma opens, the upset is clearly visible on her face. I pull her to me with one arm all while I’m entering the apartment.

At least, Valentino wasn’t alone when he got the news. It’s not much comfort, I know, but he had someone he can count on next to him, and my mother didn’t disappoint. Seems to me she took over when shock numbed him, and she called me right after. My father is nowhere to be found, but that’s nothing new. He’s taken to drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle or three every night. Let’s see how much longer his liver will hold and he’ll soon darken my mother’s doorstep. One might argue it won’t be a huge loss when he’s gone.

My feet stop on the threshold of the living room. Valentino is on the couch, his head in the palm of one hand, shoulders drooped. He looks like he’s aged to his full thirty-four years in the matter of half an hour, yet at the same time, he also seems so young, like the weight of the world crashed on him and he’s just a green shoot instead of a sturdy-enough branch to hold it all on him.

Here's the twisted part. Where I’d welcome the passing of my father with fanfare now, it’s completely the opposite for Valentino. He’s had his differences with his dad, but Marcello Andretti was always a solid man who knew what he wanted yet didn’t stifle his children to force them to see his vision of the world. His first sons, the heir and the spare, have had to toe the line because their birth order demanded it in the scheme of his Borgata , but Valentino and Luciano have always been encouraged to be their own man despite being destined to take over one day. And the younger siblings, Franco and Victor, were set free, able to soar as they wished.

Val has had the epitome of what a good father is supposed to be, and now to have lost him like this, so abruptly, while thousands of miles away…

My cousin lifts his head, registering I’m here. He gets up, and I’m wrapping him in my arms in the next instant.

What do you say in a moment like this? Sorry sounds empty, flat. All my words are going to fail me, so I let my embrace speak for itself. Valentino doesn’t cling to me, but I know he’s welcoming my hold, my support.

When we part, he falls back onto the sofa. I park myself on the edge of the coffee table, facing him.

“What happened?” I ask.

He hitches in a deep breath. “Francesca called.”

His baby sister? I would’ve expected one of his brothers to have shared the news.

“And?”

“He got shanked. Some cazzo got the drop on him.”

Disbelief floods through me. “How?”

“Beats me.” He shakes his head. “That’s all I know.”

It’s not much to go along with, for sure.

“Who’s holding the fort? Francesca?”

She’s still so young, though. She’s not even twenty-five, and though not a coddled princess, she has four overprotective big brothers. This shouldn’t be landing on her.

“No. Luciano. He knows…”

Right. The second-eldest Andretti son. Luciano would know what to do in such a situation given how he’s dealt with the death of a close one before. We celebrated a subdued Easter last year because his wife had just passed after an intense battle with terminal cancer.

“I need to go back,” Val is saying. “Book the next flight, get on the ground there, find out what really happened.”

I nod. All in due time, though the first step is getting him back home.

The doorbell rings, and I exchange a quick look with Mamma who goes to open. My surprise is strong when Don Giacomo walks into the room.

“Pardon me for intruding, but Rosa called me.”

“Of course not, Don Rossi,” Val says quietly, standing up to greet him.

We’re Mafia, and in our world, our boss or Don is always involved.

Don Giacomo places his hands on my cousin’s shoulders and embraces him. “I am sorry for your loss, Valentino.”

“Thank you,” Val replies.

I wonder how many times he’ll have to echo this platitude in the days to come.

“I took the liberty of chartering a plane for your return trip. I hope I’m not overstepping.”

We’re all staring at the Don with wide eyes.

Val recovers first. “That’s very kind of you, Don Rossi. Thank you. How can I ever repay you—”

“Giacomo, please. And there’s no need. You are family, too.”

The Don exchanges a quick glance with me. I know this extravagant gesture of his has nothing to do with my father and everything with me—I’m his godson, and Valentino is my cousin, period.

“It’ll take about two hours for the plane to be ready. But even so, the next flight out of Torino is at six-thirty in the morning,” he continues.

Val will be out of here before two a.m. Every minute counts right now. His shoulders, which had somehow deflated, square back up again. It must be a relief to know this has been taken care of. Still, how much can one man take? Everything is being thrust at him so suddenly, I can’t even begin to fathom what he is going through. The plan was always for him to stay with us for another couple of years, then he’d go back home, and the closer he got to forty, his padre would cede the reins of his Borgata slowly over to him.

But the time has come, now. Is he ready for this?

I don’t know if I would be. Just look at what happened when I was activated. I always knew I’d be the Don’s enforcer, and though this job carries a lot of responsibilities, it didn’t put me at the top of the pyramid to direct everything happening below me. Yet, it also did feel like the weight of the world, and I’m still battling against the waves on most days. My job, I can do, and brilliantly at that, too. The rest is proving a bit harder to handle. Like my relationship with Kaya.

My gut tightens, and I know I must stop myself from thinking of her right now. She’s solace, yes, but there’s still so much up in the air between us. It would be so much easier if I could tell her why I’m doing all this, what I’m protecting her from. But I’m also afraid she’ll run if she knows. Someone threatened her life, and though she’s no fragile flower, it will spook her.

Where will I be without her? As things stand, losing myself in her every time I can is the only way I’ve found to regain a lost piece of myself again. Not healthy at all, but until I can find a better way to cope, it is what it is.

I just need this whole business with this fucking Albanian wrapped up, then we’ll be able to sit down and have a conversation, me and Kaya.

And now this. One thing I do know is I can’t let my cousin go through this alone. He’s got a slew of siblings, yes, but here, right now, I’m his only brother.

It’ll be the Don’s decision, though. The only thing I can do is ask.

I go to my godfather, hoping he’ll see the man and not the enforcer talking to him.

“Don Giacomo,” I ask. “Valentino going back—”

“You’ll be going with him, of course. He will need family with him.”

Both me and my cousin nod our thanks to the Don.

A thought hits. “What about Franco?”

He’s in London, just two hours away by plane. Should we get him on the way?

Valentino throws a glance at his phone—it looks like a group chat.

“Francesca’s called him. She was trying to reach Victor with no luck. He’s in Vietnam, or Cambodia, I don’t know.” His frustration is evident when he runs a hand through his hair. “Let me see where it’s at.”

It’s strange to hear him speaking in such rapid English on the phone with Luciano. Him being here, I’d almost convinced myself he’s a local, the way he’s fluent with Italian. He’s spoken English a few times with Kaya when she’s with me, yet it still hits differently to hear him speak his native tongue now, his natural charisma and the innate strength in him coming to the fore so easily. Yeah, as American as boxed mac and cheese he is, my cousin.

“Franco’s nabbed a spot on a plane leaving in an hour.”

It’d be pointless to tell him to wait for us—we’d only lose precious hours this way.

“Victor?”

“Francesca’s still trying to get hold of him.”

“You want me to help you pack?” Mamma asks as she runs a hand along Val’s arm.

He clasps her hand and hugs her to him. “Thank you, Zia Rosa. I’ve got this.”

As the Don’s enforcer, I have a go-to bag ready at my place—never know when my missions will require a sleepover or a stakeout. I just need to roll up home and grab it along with my passport on the way. My ESTA which allows me to enter the US without a visa isn’t expired yet, so there’s no need to apply again and wait twenty-four hours for approval.

“Rosa,” the Don starts. “Before we leave, the boys could do with some coffee, no?”

We don’t, but my mother knows this is her cue to leave so the men can discuss Mafia business. It’s nothing personal against women; it’s just the way it’s always been done and will continue being done, too.

“What do you know about what happened?” the Don asks Valentino.

“It happened at the gym. Some coglione approached, and before our men could do anything, my dad had been shanked. They think it’s internal bleeding that got him more than actual blood loss.”

“So it’s not one of yours.”

“No, Don Ros— Don Giacomo.”

“Good. I don’t need to tell you things would’ve been very different for you had that been the case.”

Val nods. “My father’s men are loyal to him.”

“Loyalty is a hard thing to find, these days.” The Don stands up, which prompts us to follow suit. “I have another matter to attend to, but I plan to say my farewells at the airport before you leave. However, Valentino—” He places a big hand on Val’s shoulder, head slightly lowered as he addresses him now. “You are going back to your territory as the head of your Borgata now. As much as it hurts that your padre is gone, that will be the least of your concerns. What’s harder to find than loyalty is respect, and you will have to earn it from your family first, then your father’s men who are now yours, and after that, the wider world you’ll be playing in.” That massive hand tightens on Valentino’s shoulder. “You are a strong man. I have seen you all this time, from the boy you were when you arrived to the man you have become, right alongside Stefano here. Do not let your father down, or his legacy, or worse of all, yourself. Find the testa di cazzo who did this and send a strong message that you are not to be fucked with. Do you hear me, figlio ?”

“ Si , Don Giacomo.”

“ Va bene .” The Don sighs. “It will never stop hurting, but you can get justice, and that will make it hurt a little less, for a time. Find a purpose, give your life meaning, Valentino. Otherwise, this life will consume you.”

On these wise words, the Don leaves the apartment. Mamma does indeed bring us coffee, and we each down a strong ristretto before heading out first to my place to get my bag—I’d texted Gianluca in the meantime—then Val’s so he can pack his things. It’s fair to assume we won’t be seeing him in Torino again, at least not anytime soon.

It takes us about thirty minutes afterward to reach Caselle Torinese and the Turin Airport there. Valentino hardly piped a word throughout the whole trip, and I respect his silence. He has so much on his mind, and the words Don Giacomo left him with must be giving him food for thought. Hell, they’ve given me plenty to think about.

I’m not the head of a Borgata , but this Mafia life is consuming me nevertheless. I’d always thought working for my Don, doing what he needed done, would be enough to sustain me. It isn’t as simple as that. I’m lacking purpose, meaning, which is why I’m so adrift right now. Kaya is my only anchor when I’m able to find her.

Thinking of her, it comforts me to know I have her, at least. Who does Val have? His family, sure, but it’s not the same as a woman slowly becoming your person. Maybe the girl with the flaxen hair will waltz into his life once he’s back home, and she can make a difference?

We’d been expecting a small plane waiting for us—well, not so small since we’re about to embark for a long-haul transatlantic flight. But the almost regular-plane-sized Bombardier Global 7500 makes both our jaws drop when we alight from the car on the tarmac. Don Giacomo didn’t spare a penny here. Must remember to thank him before we leave.

Speaking of, we can see his black, bullet-proof Range Rover approaching. He did say he’d come bid Valentino farewell.

Except, my jaw actually drops when he gets out of the car then holds his hand out for a passenger with him, and who else but a leggy Kaya Norton dressed in skinny jeans and a cashmere sweater baring one shoulder steps out with his help.

Our gazes catch, my eyes only flicking to the side where Dino pulls a few bags and cases from the boot to hand to the crew.

The Don can’t be travelling with us. Which can only mean…

“Stefano, Valentino,” the Don is saying. “I hope you don’t mind an extra companion. Seeing as how Kaya would’ve been leaving this week anyway, I thought she could travel with you.”

Valentino exchanges a glance with me. Or he tries to—I can feel his heavy gaze on me, my eyes still glued to Kaya.

My world is reducing to a pinprick, a spotlight closing in on her. She did say she couldn’t do this anymore earlier tonight. I’d thought they were words in passing. Never in my wildest nightmare did I imagine she’d act on them, and certainly not like this.

How badly did I fuck up? How do I unscrew this?

But everything inside me is telling me I can’t. There’s no going back now. Because once Kaya is safely back on US soil, she won’t be returning to Torino again.

It’s not even a triumph to see the Don being the one to escort her here—he’s letting her go, which means she won’t be his again. It’s a paltry victory, because it also only means one thing.

She won’t be mine again, either.

How do I live with this now?