Page 84 of Ravage God

It was a fucking weakness I wasn’t sure I wanted, or needed.

But hell, the alternative was to not have her at all, and that just wasn’t acceptable.

“I get it,” she said after a moment.

“What do you get, baby?”

“Why you guys are so close. You protect each other.”

“It had mostly been Massimo doing the protecting.”

She nodded, as if thinking to herself. “I’m glad you guys have each other.” She paused, her hesitancy a thick pressure in the air. “Elio?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Don’t trust my father and his friends.”

I forced myself not to react to her words. “Why do you say that?”

I didn’t need her to remind me about that, but I was curious why she thought so.

“It’s just… sometimes they meet up at my father’s house, and their conversations… I don’t think they’re happy with the way Massimo is running things. I’m just… I’m worried?—”

“Don’t worry about anything,” I interrupted. “I’ll take care of it.”

Including her. I would take care of her. For the rest of my life.

I waited for her to ask me for the details. She surprised me when she relaxed back further into me, her hand moving over to my fingers I had pressed against her stomach, playing with them.

“Okay.” She sighed.

“That’s my good girl.”

15

ISA

I quietly movedout of the kitchen. I should have never left my room in the first place, but Dad had been on one of his binge drinking episodes for the last two days. I managed to get scraps here and there from the kitchen, and once even some cold lasagna that Maura had cooked, all the while avoiding Dad.

The last time I had a full meal, before the lasagna, was when Elio took me out on that picnic in his truck at Lake Mead.

I didn’t know what had triggered this episode, and I didn’t care to know.

I just hoped it ended soon.

But I was hungry. I could feel the shakes coming on, and it looked like Dad was passed out on the couch.

Maura was busy cleaning in the kitchen, her back to me when I walked in.

I was much more fortunate than she was.

At least I could hide out in my room, away from the vicious storm that was Joseph Gambino.

She still had to work.

I moved quickly and quietly over to the fridge. There was some leftover chicken dinner from the night before, and my mouth watered at the sight.

I wouldn’t beable to warm it up. It would take too long, and the microwave was too loud, but cold chicken was better than no chicken.