Page 31 of Twisted Trust (Mafia Lords of Sin #10)
LEVI
H e’s dead.
My father’s corpse lies before me on a cold, hard metal trolley while the medical examiner stands over him like some harbinger of death. The chill of the morgue barely reaches me through the shroud of numbness that descended on me the moment Maeve’s chilling cries reached my ears.
It feels like time has frozen and I’m stuck in a loop watching him fall to his knees over and over again. My father, the often bristly and sometimes cold but altogether loyal man, has died at the hands of an ambush and I couldn’t protect him.
What kind of son am I?
How many times will I fail to protect those I care about?
“Mr. Gallo?”
The M.E’s soft voice drags me from my spiraling despair and I briefly glance at her.
“The autopsy will be handled within a couple of hours and I’ll ensure the bullet is given straight to your people. Is there anything else you would like me to do?”
She speaks with a gentleness that comes with years of delivering and discussing the worst kind of news, but to me, it just sounds hollow. Everything sounds hollow. Everything feels hollow.
There’s a weight in my chest that crushes me as I stare at my father’s pale, peaceful face.
“No,” I reply stiffly. “Nothing else.”
Dragging myself away from the morgue takes what little strength I have left and by the time I reach the corridor outside, I’m strangely breathless.
It’s like my lungs can’t inflate enough to get me the air I need.
Clutching the wall, I lean over and pant like I’ve just sprinted the few feet from the gurney to here.
As I’m struggling for air, a gentle hand lands on my shoulder.
Chip.
He’s unwavering by my side and remains silent as I wrestle with this strange breathlessness that leaves me dizzy. After a few minutes, I finally drag in a deep breath that feels like a razor’s carving down my throat.
“You good?”
I look at Chip, trying to avoid the deep sympathy in his eyes. “Yeah. Fine.”
He doesn’t believe me, but I don’t care. I just need him here.
“Your mother’s here.”
My stomach drops like a rock while cold sweat breaks out across my skin. “Where?”
Chip nods to the end of the hall and as if on cue, raised voices come from the other side of the double doors. Before I can react, they slam wide open and my mother stands there with her eyes and mouth wide open.
“Levi!”
“Mom.”
“Tell me it’s not true,” she gasps as she rushes toward me with her scarf trailing after her. “Tell me it’s not true! Where is he? I’m going to give him a piece of my mind, where is he?”
“Mom—”
She reaches me and tries to push past me into the morgue, but I catch her arm and grip tightly. “Let go of me!” she snaps, struggling with more strength than I anticipate. “I need to see him and order him to stop this!”
“Mom, he’s—” The word catches like cotton in my throat and I choke softly, then try again. “Mom, I’m so sorry. Dad is… he’s dead .”
She slaps me so hard I see stars. “Don’t you dare!” she screams right in my face, wrenching her arm free of my grip. “Don’t you dare speak about him like that, don’t you dare! What an ungrateful wretch you are!”
The pieces of my broken heart crumble to dust underneath her words and I’m helpless to watch as she shoves fully past me and opens the door. Past her shoulder, I glimpse the M.E. looking up in surprise as she stands over the body of my father and a sympathetic grimace crosses her face.
The sound that comes from my mother is unlike anything I’ve ever heard in my life.
It’s a cross between a wail and a screech of grief that carves deep into my soul and leaves an aching, throbbing pain that leaves me breathless once more.
Mom stumbles forward, then back, then her legs give way beneath her and I catch her as she falls.
“No!” she screams while that terrible wail continues to pour from her. “No! Not my Elio! Not my Elio! No, no! Why?” In my grasp, she turns to look at me with tears pouring down her powdered cheeks. “Why him? Why? WHY!”
My mother blames me with every breath until I get her home and our doctor sedates her before she can cause harm to herself or anyone around her. It’s not the best move, but she’s beside herself with grief, and nothing I say gets through to her. The next few days pass in a haze.
My father and countless men died at the airport.
The carnage was enough to draw the unwavering eye of law enforcement who watch us so closely that we have to suspend the deal with The Wolves to stop someone from walking into an unsuspecting trap set by the cops.
They’re twisted enough to use this painful time to lock us all up and I refuse to lose anyone else.
But halting the deal means we quickly start hemorrhaging money, and I try to stem that as much as I can while this deep, dark cavern inside me continues to grow.
The M.E delivers the bullet that killed my father and we start tracing it. Every man who died that wasn’t one of ours is under investigation with the help of The Wolves, and the only time I see someone who isn’t Chip is when my doctor tends to the wounds I sustained during the fight.
The haze lifts one night while I’m standing in the kitchen staring down an unopened bottle of vodka.
It would be so easy to just give in to the urge and drink myself into a stupor just to fill this ache inside me.
I focus on the label until the words and decorations blur together and I’m so distracted that a sudden rustle behind me makes me jump right out of my skin.
Whirling around, I see Maeve standing near the far counter frozen in place like a deer in headlights while clutching a fruit snack.
Her eyes are wide and fearful as if she expects me to explode on her at any moment.
Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her since the airport attack, where she was whisked away to be looked over.
Everything’s moved so suddenly and so fast.
How long has it been? A day? A week?
I don’t know.
“Sorry,” Maeve gasps. “Scott was hungry and I was—” She cuts herself off and whispers another apology, then she turns as if to flee.
I catch her before she can and she flinches at my touch, but I refuse to let go. “Maeve.”
“Sorry,” she gasps again. “I’m so sorry.”
Her wrist is warm and soft under my touch, but she trembles like she’s about to shake apart into a thousand pieces. I don’t have any space inside me for the confusion that briefly licks at my mind, so I pull her into the light offered by the ventilation above the stove.
“You’re avoiding me.”
Her eyes snap to me, wide like saucers. “What? N–No, no I?—”
“I haven’t seen you.”
“Well, yes, but?—”
“So you’re avoiding me.” Maybe it’s been less than a day and I’m being too harsh. Maybe it’s been longer. It could be a month, I can’t tell.
“No,” Maeve says with a bit more strength in her voice. “I… I didn’t think you’d want to see me so I’ve been focusing on Scott.”
My constant frown deepens. “Why would I not want to see you?” At a time where it feels like I’m holding myself together with tape and bad string, how could she think I don’t need her?
She blinks and suddenly her eyes are shining with tears while her arm continues to quiver in my grip. “B–Because of what happened?” I must look very confused because Maeve takes a deep breath then continues. “Your dad… I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault.”
My grip tightens in an attempt to comfort her, but she flinches and rapidly shakes her head.
“Please, I’m so sorry. I feel so guilty and I understand if you hate me. I can’t sleep, I can’t do anything with this guilt, and I can’t imagine how angry you must be, but I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t run outside, if I hadn’t tried to take on those men, then your father would still be?—”
She chokes on the last word and closes her eyes, sending tears rolling down her cheeks.
It clicks fully in my mind. If I were at 100 percent, maybe I would have realized it sooner. She blames herself.
Something that never even crossed my mind.
“Maeve.” It’s a struggle to keep my voice steady. “I don’t blame you.”
“What?” She opens her eyes and stares up at me with her lips parted. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. You see this?” Motioning to the bruises on my face, I continue. “You saved my life. There’s no doubt in my mind that I would have died if you hadn’t distracted them long enough for me to reach my gun. You saved my life, Maeve.”
“But it cost you your father.”
She’s right. It did.
It’s a horrible, painful exchange and I can’t fully wrap my head around it, but that doesn’t stop me from pulling her closer.
“No, whoever orchestrated that cost me my father. He died—” My mouth dries up, forcing me to pause.
“He died protecting you, and I will be forever grateful to him for that. You saved my life and he saved yours. Don’t diminish his sacrifice because I know he did that for me. ”
Her eyes dart back and forth between mine for a moment, then she lifts her other hand and gently cups my cheek.
“I’m sorry, Levi. With your mother and everything, I thought you were too busy, and I didn’t want to interrupt how you were processing.
But I’m here, okay? I’m here for you and I’m so sorry for what happened. ”
“How’s Scott?” The question chokes out of me as Maeve’s gentle touch to my face starts scraping away at the poorly constructed wall inside me that’s holding my pain at bay.
“He’s confused,” Maeve murmurs. “But he understands. He’s clingy because he misses Cameron, and now Elio is gone and… I’m sorry, Levi. I’m so sorry.”
I try to hold back. I try to maintain a normal conversation about Scott because I care so deeply about him, but the words fail me and the next thing I know, I’m sagging into Maeve’s welcome, warm arms and collapsing down onto the kitchen floor.
She holds me close, wrapping her arms and legs around me while cradling my face. “It’s okay, I’m here,” she gasps with her lips against my forehead. “I’m right here.”
I’ve never been one to cry. Even as a child, I knew better because there were more important things I could be doing, but once I start, I can’t stop. The tears well in my eyes and leak down my cheeks while Maeve holds me as tightly as she can. I bury my face in her chest and sob.
I cry for my father and the role I thought he would play in my future.
I cry for my own weakness at being unable to save him.
I cry for my mother and the pain I can’t take away from her.
I cry for Maeve and her days spent thinking she was the cause.
I cry until I can’t breathe, until it feels like I’m splitting myself in two and each edge is ripping me into unfixable pieces.
Maeve holds me through it and continues even when my tears dry up and my sobs fade. She stays with me on the floor bundled together as silence falls and a deep, heavy grief clouds my chest.
I dare not think of anything beyond the single, comforting thought in my mind.
I’m going to find who the fuck did this and I’m not going to leave a single soul alive.