Logic would not work with Cesare, not now, not about what he prized most. Cesare Fera was built from emotion, he always had been, but only now did I understand that.
I gently pushed Bella into Francesco’s grip and took another step forward, still holding out my hands as though he would detonate. “I am sorry, Cesare.” He frowned, and it reminded me of when he was a child, blinking up at me, wanting me to fix everything that hurt. “I did not protect you.” I took another step forward. “I did not save you, but I allowed you into Stefano’s hands.” Sicily was within my reach, but I did not snatch her out of his grasp, not yet. “I am sorry. I-I miss you.” I was aware of the tear sliding down my cheek. “You may punish me, but please allow me to protect my wife. If I sign your contract, she will be left with nothing, no defense against people who will harm us for the lie of our name. That is not her fault. None of this is her fault.”
Sicily was sobbing quietly, only inches from my hands. I could reach out and touch her, calm her if I chose to, but not with the knife to her throat.
“Milan,” she whispered. “You need to talk?—”
“Shhh, angel,” I said gently, but this caused Cesare to snap back into his episode, reminding him that she was relying on me as they once had.
He silenced her cries, shoving the blade tighter against her skin. “Sign it. I won’t allow you to come for us again, I won’t allow my baby to be born just to be hurt by these people, I won’t allow it. I won’t, I won’t! I’ll slice her fucking throat, Milano. I’ll do it right now, I will?—"
“Cesare, what the fuck are you doing?” Brenno roared, but he could not hear him in this state.
“Sign. It.” He hissed through each word. “Or I’ll kill her.”
Blood trickled from Sicily’s neck and each drip onto the concrete between us was like a timer.
Abomb.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
“All right.” I swallowed the bile. “Okay. I will sign it.”
I turned, taking the contract and using the bonnet of my car to sign away everything that I had built on my father’s grave, everything that I had founded in Siena and my mother’s name. It had never been about being Capo dei Capi, not truly.
I was not defective, and I had done good things.
My signature scratched onto the paper, and not even the stars above belonged to me anymore, but that was okay, becauseSicilydid.
Adriano gripped my arm before I could return, his eyes frantically searching mine. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“I have no choice, Adrian.”
“There is always a choice!”
I nodded once. “There is. It is my wife. If I do not have her, I have nothing.”
Bella placed a hand on my wrist, her tears flowing steadily. “I’m so sorry, Milan. Cesare’s sick, he needs help, and he?—”
I caught Bella as she keeled forward, silencing her words with a deep, pained groan.
The contract fluttered to the ground, as I lowered her beside it. “What hurts?”
Within seconds, Bella’s sweatpants were soaked in red. It was a deep, almost black red, and there was nowhere I could hold, no way I could make her sobs better.
Mom spluttered blood from her lips, eyes, stomach and somewhere else I did not know. It spewed onto my hands as she strained herself to repeat the words, “You are capable, Milano, you are capable, Milano, you are capable–”
“Stop!” I shouted, pressing into the wounds I had created. “I am not capable of this, of killing you! I am sorry, I am sorry, I am?—"
I turned my hands to see my palms. They were wet. The knife was wet. Bloody with her blood that I had spilled.
Adriano’s roaring cries drew my eyes to the hallway where he clutched Siena who had just wanted to find me.
Mom had killed Siena.
