Page 26

Between Saving & Letting Go.

I ’m stuck.

In limbo, like a ship in the sea, fighting the waves until the boards beneath me rot and give way. The endless blue swallowing me whole, the pressure collapsing my lungs and decomposing my body agonisingly slow.

How are you meant to find a sense of belonging when your parents were never meant to create you?

The thoughts that have plagued me for years continue to eat at my black heart, withering it down day by day. My brothers, the Casellas and the Guerras, never once had to worry about the things I did and I envy them for it. Not having to concern themselves with when their next meal would be, or if one day, those who held them captive would call on them to slaughter on their behalf.

It wasn’t until I met Dante that I saw what it was like to be part of a family.

He saw me.

He took me in and raised me like a son amongst his own.

What better way to thank him when he’s six feet under than by lusting over his twenty-three-year-old daughter?

Except it isn’t lust anymore. It’s turned into something I cannot explain. Something I’ve never felt before. It’s all-consuming and anxiety-inducing, like if I’m not with her, the delicate organ inside my chest will suddenly stop or spontaneously combust.

I always imagined what it would feel like to be in love, but I could have never thought it would feel like this. Wrong and right all at the same time and fucking confusing.

Is this the way it’s meant to be?

I don’t know.

All I know is I love her.

I’ve searched for her all over the island. The greenhouse, the mausoleum, the waterfall, and she’s nowhere to be seen. Not knowing where she is makes me irrational.

Footsteps sound, getting louder as they get closer, and I don’t bother to look up to see who it is because no one besides her is my concern anymore.

“It’s going to storm tonight,” Dante speaks over the waves.

The grey clouds smother the light from the sun, like a warning of imminent danger. I used to love the stormy nights. It helped me sleep. Now, all it does is make me think.

About her.

The way her brows crease as she comes for me.

The way her curves feel beneath my hands and the way she says my name.

Everything about Falcon’s Keep reminds me of her and I hate that I can’t escape it even in the place that saved me from me. Now she’s the only thing that can stop me from burning it all down.

The crutch of it all is that I’m never going to get the girl. I’m not the person she thinks I am. I’m not the hero. I won’t sacrifice her for the greater good. I’d rather shatter the sands of time and live this life in an endless loop than save the world from its own Groundhog Day, because my version is simply her—and to me, that’s heaven.

“What was the deal you made for Enzo’s life?”

I know he won’t confess to it, but if there is a chance for me to save this brotherhood between us, I owe his father to try.

He takes a seat beside me, twisting the large ring on his index finger, the one passed down from his father, the symbol of their family’s crest engraved on it.

“I did that for you.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t ask you to.”

He sighs, his dark hair slick back, unmoving even as the wind picks up speed. “I know. I thought it was the one thing I could do for you after everything you did for my father and my family.”

“I never did any of those things without the want inside my heart.”

He nods, the notch in his throat bobbing up and down as he swallows. “And that’s why I’m struggling, Raf. I hate that I haven’t been honest with you.”

“Then start.”

“If I shared everything with you, you’d try to stop it.”

I clench my jaw, my mind going to places I don’t want it to. “We don’t do this, Dante. We don’t get into bed with the ones who bring the heat. Even your father knew this. He’s the one who put distance between us.”

“I had no choice!” His tone is veiled with frustration.

A beat passes before either of us speaks.

“I’m sick of it…of being pushed around and them forcing my hand at every turn?—”

“And you think this is going to stop with the new deal you’ve made with him?”

He purses his lips, knowing I’m speaking the truth. “I’m cornered.”

“With what!?” I run a hand through my hair, the irritation now setting in. “ Merda ! Just fucking tell me so I can help you.”

“This is my problem and I’ll fix it.”

Raising my eyebrows, I shift my body to face him. “You’ll fix it…” I chuckle and shake my head, pulling out a cigarette to calm myself. “The only thing you’re doing is binding Falcon’s Keep to the one person whose only goal is to dominate the criminal playground around the world.” Lighting my cigarette, I take a drag and get to my feet. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on, and if you don’t tell me soon, you might as well dig the graves yourself.”

Sifting through this mountain of paperwork on Dante’s desk is like looking for dust in a pile of sand. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I know I’m determined to find out about this fucking deal. I shuffle through a bunch of old photos, some of me and Dante, his brothers, and I pull out one of Nera. She must be ten or eleven in this photo, sitting with Dante Senior on a picnic blanket, watching the sunset beneath the large tree at the back of the property. His arm is draped around her, watching her closely as she smiles and points out to the horizon.

She deserves to be happy, Raf.

The stronzo voice inside my head attacks me when I’m already on the edge, and I push it aside, stuffing the photo into my pocket as I continue to dig through the desk drawer. Nothing in the top or the middle.

I yank at the bottom one.

Shit.

Locked.

If I know Dante, and I think I do, he wouldn’t keep the key on himself because he’s afraid of losing anything sentimental to him, so he keeps everything within reach. Everything has a home, and I don’t doubt this key does also. And it’s somewhere in this room.

The bookshelves are out of the question. He hasn’t touched those books since we were teens. I cross my arms, thinking about where he might have stashed the key, when my eyes lock on his father’s portrait hanging behind his desk.

Lifting the frame, I glide my hand between the wall and the frame when metal clatters to the floor. I stare at it, the voice in my head begging me to put it back.

No, we’re past that. We are done with blinding loyalty.

Sliding the key into the hole, I take a breath and open the drawer to find a yellow envelope. My heart sinks as I pull out the thick papers, the words on the pages echoing through my mind as I read.

Marriage contract. Frances Lucchese and Nera Della Torre.

I grip the end of the table, unable to stop reading. Sweat beads at my temple as I flick through the pages, each word jabbing deeper into the already open wound, when I reach a page titled: Terms and Conditions.

1. Transfer of Ownership:

All parties hereby consent to the transfer of ownership of Falcon’s Keep to Frances Lucchese, granting full rights of its use for business and trade purposes, with no financial consideration exchanged.

2. Severance of Ties:

All parties agree that Nera Della Torre shall sever all personal and professional associations with Falcon’s Keep and the Della Torre family. Nera Della Torre further agrees to reside exclusively within the United States of America for the remainder of her life.

3. Forfeiture of Personal Rights:

All parties acknowledge that Nera Della Torre hereby irrevocably forfeits any and all personal rights, claims, and interests in Falcon’s Keep to Frances Lucchese, with no further entitlement to ownership, control, or decision-making authority over the property or related matters.

4. Freedoms:

All parties acknowledge and agree that Nera Della Torre grants her full consent to comply with all requests made by Frances Lucchese, whether pertaining to business or personal matters, without limitation or reservation.

Over my dead fucking body.

Slamming the papers on the desk, I will my body to calm down but everything warps into a tunnel of red rage and opaque hate.

A roar tears apart my throat as I slam my fists onto the desk, knocking the objects onto the floor. Wasting no time, I fist the papers in my hand, denting the pages as I storm out of the office, down the stairs and out the door.

I’ve never felt this kind of rage before, not when I was left for dead in the sea, not when I found out my own blood had abandoned me, and not when I saw the one father figure I had in a pool of his own blood. If this is what Nera agreed to, and Dante allowed it to happen, I’ll bury this island beneath the goddamn sea where it belongs before I stand by and watch her take his hand.

Do your worst, Frances, because I’m coming for you.