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Dad pulled his phone from his pocket. “I need to call Remo now.”
I took a step forward. “Wait.”
Dad frowned. “It’s his grandson. He needs to know so he can rip Nevio a new one.”
I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure why I was suddenly so scared to tell Nevio’s family about Battista. They had a right to know. They were his family after all. Mom gave me a reassuring smile. “It’ll be all right. Remo won’t be mad at you for helping Nevio keep this secret.”
“He’ll be mad as he should, and I’m mad as hell,” Dad said, giving me a stern look. “Lying about everything, that’s not who we raised you to be.”
“You taught me the importance of loyalty. You don’t always agree with Remo’s decisions but you have his back.”
“He’s my Capo.”
Mom gave him a look but she didn’t contradict him.
“He’s your friend first,” I said. Though friend really wasn’t the right term. Fabiano considered Remo almost as his brother, but I couldn’t bring myself to see the Falcones as family, especially now that I’d slept with one of them. That would be too weird.
“Which iswhyI’m going to call him now. The secrets end now.”
Not all of them.
“Maybe we should tell Remo in person,” Mom said in her lawyer voice. “That way, he can’t build up his rage.”
“He’ll have more than enough if we tell him in person, but this might be news that’s really better told directly.” Dad lifted the phone to his ear. After a few rings, Remo picked up. “I need to come over to talk to you. It’s important.” Pause. “I’d rather not tell you over the phone.” Pause. “Yes, it’s linked to Nevio.” Dad lowered the phone, then he met my gaze.
I swallowed. “This isn’t going to go over well.”
I never thought I’d leave Las Vegas, not for long, not without a definite return date. Yet today, I’d purchased a one-way ticket to Naples.
I hadn’t talked to anyone about it, not even Greta or Aurora. There was enough commotion in my brain as it was. Nobody could take this decision from me because nobody knew how messed up my thoughts were right now. I needed time to get a grip—to grow up how Dad would call it. Maybe that too. But who’d ever heard of a serial killer growing out of his murderous urges.
The problem wasn’t even the latter—being a good killer and loving it was the best condition to be a Made Man. The whole male side of my family were murderers. Some liked it more than others, but we were all good at it. Problem was that it had become an addiction. After a kill, I was already thirsting for the next kill. I lived for my nightly hunts and needed to get a grip.
I wanted to. I wanted to manage my dark side like Dad and Nino did, something I’d never admit to them. I admired them for how they handled a family life and the darkness that they harbored.
Sometimes I wanted to hurt everyone, but there were certain people I always wanted to save a little more than I wanted to hurt them. Save them from me. The problem was, every day I was a little less sure who held the reins, me or the monster.
When I left the Falcone mansion in the morning, I wasn’t sure when I’d return or if I’d return. I could die helping the Camorra in Italy. I could decide my darkness simply wasn’t controllable.
The hardest part was not saying goodbye, especially to Aurora. She wouldn’t forgive me for this, and she had every right to hate me. But she’d be able to hand Battista over to my parents, and they would take better care of my son than I ever could.
My first stop after landing in Naples wasn’t the local Camorra headquarters or my great-uncle’s villa outside the city.
I went to the best tattoo studio in Naples. When my plan to leave had formed in my head, I’d known I wanted to take Battista and Aurora with me in any way I could, so I decided to ink them into my skin. Aurora because of the feelings I had for her, and Battista because of the feelings I should have for him.
I didn’t have an appointment but managed to get in anyway. I showed the tattoo artist an image of an aurora borealis. Aurora’s name couldn’t have been more fitting to how I saw her. A bright light against the dark sky. Her light even managed to brighten the blackness inside me. Maybe one day I would reach my personal equinox, and maybe one day my dark and light would be even. The aurora borealis always shines brightest on the night of an equinox. As long as my darkness overweighed the good inside me, Aurora’s light would always burn a little less in my presence. I didn’t want that.
The tattoo artist created a few quick drawings of aurora borealis tattoos. I didn’t want a backdrop of a forest or mountains. I wanted the sole focus to be on the northern lights and the night sky behind them. I picked a black night sky as the background and bright green and turquoise lights. I didn’t have many tattoos, not as many as Alessio and Massimo, only two so far: the Camorra tattoo of the eye and the knife, then a Joker tattoo on my back with his smile andWhy so serious?in blood red beneath it followed by a string of HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. The A’s didn’t fully close at the top because every vertical stroke stood for one life taken, like a tally list. There were many haha’s by now, becoming smaller and smaller as they meandered down my back. I had a feeling I’d eventually have to give up taking tally. Both tattoos were held in black and red. Both colors I appreciated for their deeper meaning to me. Now the first dash of color would be added to the list.
“Where do you want the tattoo?” the tattoo artist asked after I’d picked the design. I motioned to the center of my chest, then slightly to the left. “I want the lights over my heart,” I said.
The tattoo artist nodded but didn’t comment. Good for him. I pulled my tee over my head.
“Great artwork,” he said when I turned my back to him. Nino had done a fabulous job of the Joker tattoo and the bloody tally list. I showed the guy the Camorra tattoo on my wrist was equally as good.
“My uncle did them.”
“Impressive. Why didn’t you choose him for these tattoos?”
