Page 3

The Blindness of Loyalty.

I t’s been a few weeks since my return to Italy from London, and everything that’s happened weighs heavily on my mind. I watch the trees swaying in the wind outside, the sun cascading beneath the horizon.

My fingers find the necklace hanging around my neck, a symbol of kinship and trust, shared with me innocently, from someone I grew to love over many years.

I look up at the burnt garage, years of hard work taken down within seconds, and the rage I still work hard to hide begins to simmer again. I told myself to be patient and to learn to be balanced in everything I do, but each time I think about this place, another side of me breaks free, wanting to tear down the one person who took everything from me.

Exiting the car, one that was left to me from him , I stride to the garage. The ground is littered with burnt timbers, the sun streaking through the barely existing roof. The night I left, when I was young and stupid, is one I will always regret. It plagues me, and I fear this will never change.

‘La famiglia non è la persona a cui sei imparentato, è chi è venuto e non se n’è mai andato, anche quando i tempi si sono fatti duri e le notti erano buie.’

Family isn’t who you’re related to, it’s who came and never left, even when the times grew hard, and the nights were dark.

My fingers trace over the carved writing on the concrete wall and something inside me breaks a little more. I haven’t been here since that night.

I couldn’t…because I blame myself for it.

Tyres roll to a stop beside my car, and I watch as Dante exits the black Rolls-Royce. His long strides eat up the distance between us, and when he looks at me, all I see is sympathy.

“I know what’s happened has brought up the past for you, but I want you to know you don’t have to deal with it alone.” He places his hand on my shoulder, a gesture of his support and comfort even though he isn’t the type to show it.

“I’m no stranger to it.” I chuckle, my gaze returning to the words etched into the concrete by the person taken from this world too soon. The air becomes ice cold when I shut my eyes, taking me back to that night. The wind surrounds me as my legs work to outrun them. My young limbs without a clue as to what was coming next.

“I need your help.” Dante’s words pull me back and I nod. “We have a lot of work to do.”

“Have we found Enzo yet?”

His expression sours at the mention of the name, his dark eyebrows coming together when he speaks. “The moment I do, I will carve him up myself.”

“I think Nicholas might beat you to it.”

“The Casella brothers might have jurisdiction in London, but not here—this is my soil.” He slips his hand into his jacket pocket and withdraws his phone. “Things need to change. We can’t continue to live separate from the mainland.”

Dante’s father—Dante Senior—dreamed of being disassociated from the rest of the mafia families in Italy for his family’s protection. As the years passed, their allies and resources began to run dry, the suppliers choosing to band with the strongest family in Italy.

The Petruccis.

“They won’t let you return to the mainland unless you swear your life and wealth to them.”

“There might be another way,” he admits, tucking the phone back into his pocket, and when he looks up at me, I know he’s ready for battle because that’s what it’s going to take to gain his family’s allies back. “I’m going to need you to do something before we take this on.”

“My focus is finding Enzo,” I say curtly, not wanting my attention to stray from the person who murdered my half-brother and almost killed Darcy.

“Rafael…” Dante fidgets with the bulky rings on his fingers and I see hesitation hidden behind his eyes. “You’re the only one I trust with this. I promise you retribution, but I need you to do this for me.”

I can’t deny Dante. Not because I fear him, but because I owe him and his family for saving me, for taking me in and treating me like one of their own when my own blood had cast me away.

I nod. “Who do you want dead?”

He pauses, the creases between his brows relaxing when he speaks next. “This isn’t an assassination. I need you to bring Nera home.”

I haven’t seen Nera in years. The last time I saw her, she was just a child, a true daddy’s girl who could do no wrong in her father’s eyes. I didn’t have much to do with her, barely even spoke to her before she was sent off to live and study in America. It makes me wonder why Dante would want her back in the country, but that’s where I draw the line of my involvement in his relationship with his sister. He barely speaks of her to me or others, and I can only assume the reason is that he wants to keep her out of this world.

“Why now?”

“Just like me, she has a role to play as a Della Torre,” he admits, looking at the floor, clearly not wanting to resort to bringing his sister home.

“What role can a child play in this?” I question.

“She’s not a child anymore.”

“What about your father’s wish?” I pull out a cigarette from my pocket and flick the lighter in my other hand, watching the flame light the tip as I breathe in the poison. My finger brushes the carved letter on the front of the lighter.

“Do you think a dead man’s wishes matter?”

I guess not.

“When?”

“In a week. I need her to be here for the Falcon’s Keep revelry.”

The revelry. Two nights in twelve months when the Della Torre’s open the port, allowing the richest people from the mainland to enter an exclusive party, paying thousands just to attend. It’s one of the best revenue streams Dante has created, making so much as half a million euros in one night.

“What about Enzo?”

“We have been combing his frequently visited places and known residential properties. He’ll turn up.”

“Nicholas will have my head if I don’t follow through with my promise.”

“A Della Torre never breaks their promises.”

His words sting as they leave his mouth because I know I’m not a Della Torre by blood…even though he would say otherwise. The red stream rushing through my veins runs in three others but remains tainted with abandonment, leaving me to wonder where I truly belong and who I truly am.