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I nodded. “Then this will truly be a family meeting.”
“Apart from this whore,” Franco muttered.
The tension in the room was palpable. No one moved to sit, and it looked like either Dominic or my father would explode at any minute.
I sighed, shaking my head, but before I could speak, Dominic drew a pistol and held it at his side.
“She’s the mother of your other grandchild, old man, but you’re too fucking stupid to see it, aren’t you?”
“Dominic, give me the gun,” I said, shadowing him as he moved around the table to where my father stood, but it was like he couldn’t hear me. Couldn’t see me. Couldn’t see anyone but our father.
“I was too much of a coward to tell you she was pregnant with my baby. Mine, you stupid fuck.”
“Dominic,” I started, cautious.
Franco watched him, glancing at Isabella for a moment as he finally understood. But Dominic wasn’t finished.
“You never cared about me. All your love went to Sergio.”
“That’s not true,” our father said. “He was just firstborn.”
“Fuck firstborn! This isn’t the fucking Dark Ages. It doesn’t fucking matter.”
“You betrayed your family. I accepted you as my own, and you betrayed me.”
All heads snapped to my father then.
Roman approached Franco and whispered something into his ear. I turned to Dominic to see his face as he slowly understood what was being said.
“No, I’ll tell this bastard who he is.” My father shoved Roman away. “Son of a fucking foot soldier who thinks he should be head of my family.”
“You’re lying,” Dominic said, raising the pistol.
“Dominic, give me the gun,” I said, mirroring every move he made.
I heard a gasp at the door, and Isabella moved, shielding Lucia, who’d just walked in.
“Dominic, please, give me the gun.”
“You all thought your mother was a saint. Died a martyr.” Franco snorted. “You didn’t know her very well. None of you did.”
“You’re a fucking liar, old man,” Dominic spewed.
“She whored herself out.”
“He’s not worth it,” I said to my brother. “He’s lying, and he’s not worth it.” But it was like he couldn’t hear me at all.
“Don’t you dare talk about her like that.” Dominic wiped his face with the back of the hand that held the pistol.
“Like your bitch,” Franco said, gesturing to Isabella.
That was it, it was finished. Dominic aimed, my father’s face changed to one of surprise, of shock. I don’t know if any of us thought he’d do it. Thought he’d actually pull the trigger.
I grabbed Dominic’s arm, but he cocked the gun. My father’s mouth opened, another taunt leaving it, pushing Dominic to the breaking point.
Gunshots never sound the way you think they should. They’re louder, deadlier, and a hell of a lot faster than in the movies.
Lucia’s scream was all I heard. Everything else was background noise. She drowned it all out with her scream.
I lunged between them, intending to push my father out of the way, to save him. To save Dominic from doing something he’d regret for the rest of his life.
But it never worked that way in real life either. Never like the movies. The heroes didn’t walk away, arms raised, triumphant.
More often, they got hurt.
They got killed.
I did knock my father out of the way. Landing on him was softer than the damned marble floors I always hated. A second later, and I’d have been too late.
Or maybe I already was.
Lucia screamed again, dropping to her knees, her hands bloodied, her face splattered with it. Her crutches clanked to the floor near my head as she grabbed my face, looking over her shoulder, shoving someone away. Her tears kept dropping on my face, and she kept wiping them away again and again, talking, I think. Her mouth moved, but no sound came. No sound. Only pain. Only fire in my side.
When I put my hand to the place, it felt warm and wet, and when I reached to touch her pretty, pretty face, I covered it in red, smearing it down over her jaw, her neck, down until she faded from view. The last thing I felt was her hair tickling my face, her body pressing against mine, the movements desperate.22Lucia“Salvatore, no!”
I held his face with one hand and pressed my other hand to the place on his side that wouldn’t stop bleeding. I kissed him. Kissed him and kissed him. When I tried to push the hair back from his forehead, I left blood in its place. His blood. God, there was so much of it. Too much.
“Don’t die.”
He hadn’t promised me that. He’d made me three promises, but he’d never promised me he wouldn’t die.
I’d never asked him to promise that. I’d never…
“Don’t die,” I whispered just to him.
He was too still, and when my sister touched my shoulder, and I looked up at her through the blur the haze of my tears caused, I sucked in a trembling breath. Her face, the look in her eyes, telling me it was bad.
