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“Move away from her. I’m not going to say it again.”
“I’ll drive the blade into her throat if you come closer.”
I give a shake of my head, and there’ a crash at the far end of the basement. Vincent just turned a table over, and that’s the instant of distraction I need to lunge at him. I grab his wrist and tug it away from her throat, then shove him back. He’s stronger than I expect, given his size, but he’s no match for me. For my rage.
I don’t release his wrist when his back hits the wall. Instead, I twist it, turning the blade toward his throat, slicing it just a little, shallow enough not to kill him, but I do draw blood. He lets out a whimper. Like the coward he is.
Relieving him of the blade, I lean in close. Hold my nose against the stench of him. “Don’t be a fucking pussy.” Taking his arm, I shove him toward Vincent, who holds him.
I turn to look at Emilia. She’s shaking. I go to her and reach up for the bonds. I glance at her back before I release her. It’s bloody, but it’s not twenty-one. He managed three lashes. Three angry lashes.
She falls into me when I release her, and I hold her, careful for her back. I want to lift her up in my arms, but it’ll hurt her if I do.
“String him up,” I say, moving her toward the stairs. “You’re going to be okay,” I tell her. It’s not a question. She will be okay. She has to be. “You’re safe now.”
“Nan and my dad?”
Fuck.
She draws back when I don’t answer. “Did he get to them?” she asks, her face crumpling again. “He said he got to them.”
I shake my head. “No, he didn’t. It’s not that.”
“What then?”
“Your father went into cardiac arrest a little while ago.”
She shakes her head no, more tears coming. I push the hair from her face. It’s stuck to it with blood and sweat. I inadvertently touch the bruise, making her flinch. “Shh. I’ll get you cleaned up, and we’ll go to them. Can you walk?”
She nods.
“Good.” I turn to Alessandro, who is now bound in the same restraints from which I freed Emilia. “I’ll be back for him,” I say to Vincent but keep my eyes on Alessandro. I won’t be delivering him to my cousin in the condition he wants—alive. Not a fucking chance. “You boys can warm him up.”
Emilia has her eyes locked on him too.
“Let’s go,” I say.
“Wait.”
She pushes my arm away, goes up to her brother, walks right up to him, and I’m not sure what to expect. I hope she won’t beg for his life because I’m not granting that. But she doesn’t. Instead, she spits in his face.
“You’re a pathetic, sick coward, and you deserve everything they’re going to do to you.”Epilogue 1EmiliaSeven Weeks LaterAlessandro had lied about Nan and my father. He hadn’t gotten to them. Giovanni has an army surrounding them. Even if he had known where they were, he wouldn’t have gotten through.
Nan is sitting beside me now as I look at dad. It’s almost like he knew what was happening, what Alessandro was doing to me, because I think his heart stopped at the same time I was in that basement. It’s almost like he was there with me. Already an angel watching over me.
I wipe my face and squeeze his hand, look at him. Look at the additional machines. He could breathe on his own before. Not anymore.
Nan is crying too. This whole thing, it’s aged her. And my dad, I wouldn’t recognize him for my father if I didn’t know it was him. He’s a shadow of the man he was in life.
Life.
He’s not alive anymore. Not really. He’s not here inside this body anymore. I know that.
I don’t need to look up to know Giovanni is watching me from across the room. I stand up, lean over my dad, and give him one more kiss on his forehead. Nan does the same. She and I hold hands.
“You’re doing the right thing, Emilia,” she reassures me.
“I know. It’s still hard.”
I take another minute and look up at the doctor, give him a nod. One by one, he switches off the machines. One by one, the noises stop. And as they do, I watch my father’s face. I want to say I see peace on it, even if it’s only my imagination. His chest stops moving as soon as that machine is turned off and a few minutes later, the doctor calls out the time of death.
It should be easier if you know. It shouldn’t hurt so much if you know. I feel like I’ve done this twice now. Lost him twice.
Nan rubs my arm, and I steel myself, force myself to stop with the crying. I have to stop sometime. It’s been four long years of it, and I’m so tired of crying all the time. I lean down and give him one final kiss and tell him that I love him. When Giovanni comes to take my hand and lead me away, I go. I don’t wait for them to put the sheet over his face. I don’t want to see that.
