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Maybe the hot water would help wash away some of this pain, at least for a little while.
Why couldn’t my dad be a little more like Uncle Craig? Sophie, Jemma, and Cara lost their mom young—but at least they were loved.
Even Alex’s family was different. His brothers clearly loved him, and his mother did, too. She’d had so much pain and longing in her eyes when she looked at Alex.
Everybody’s family wasn’t even half as fucked up as mine. They were all players in this dangerous game, but at least they seemed to care for each other.
But what did that mean for me? I had no place with my family. And no place here. I just didn’t belong.
I straightened, rubbed at my chest.
Nobody could hurt me if I didn’t let them.
Not my father.
Not anyone else.
For now, all I could do was brace myself for the upcoming emergency meeting, there, in the midst of the chaos and uncertainty. At least everyone else would be preoccupied. And I could hide from reality a little longer.
Then, I would leave tomorrow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The tension in the air was thick as molasses. Gabe paced the length of the private room, his anger and worry radiating off him in waves.
Such a mother hen.
I exchanged a look with Cristo, then Matteo.
The three of us all stood in a row—like schoolboys ready to be scolded by the headmaster.
“You killed Bruno Moretti.” Gabe rounded on me, eyes flashing. “Do you have any idea what that means?”
I bristled at the accusation in his tone. “They attacked us. What did you expect me to do, roll over and let him take a shot at me?”
“I expect you to keep a cool head and think before you act!” Gabe turned and slammed a fist into the wall, rattling the glass of a wall light. “I’ve been trying to play nice with them ever since Fausto killed Salvatore Moretti. And now—thanks to you—we’re on the brink of an all-out war with the Morettis.”
My stomach knotted at the thought.
I took a chair and ran a hand over my face. How had everything spiraled so far out of control? Not only because of what I’d done.
It was all happening because of me, because of who I was, and who my father had been.
Gabe sighed and clasped my shoulder. “I know it’s not your fault the situation is this fucked up, but we have to decide how to handle this. Do we retaliate and risk escalating the violence or try to find a truce?”
A wave of resentment rose in my chest. How dare the Morettis go after me and attack us on our own turf?
Again.
Making me not only the target but making the Falcone family look weak and vulnerable to the world.
I’d worked too hard, sacrificed too much to have it all fall apart now. I scoffed.
Everything had already fallen apart.
I was clinging to the Falcone name, was clinging to what I’d worked toward my entire life—worked to gain the respect of the man I thought was my father.
It was a losing battle right from the start.
