Page 99 of Marcus

Until it made them remember.

Cella didn’t want to go back to that time—the day when she lost William—and yet, she was thrust there all the same. No warning. No help.

No escape.

Her mind was hell.

“No, Daddy.”

She screamed at her father when he told her. Fought his hold—the hug he offered. At some point, she’d hit him. More than once. Begged for him to be lying. Puked all over the floor when they finally got her out of a hotel hallway and into the privacy of a room where they could explain more.

She could still taste the vomit.

Or maybe that was because she wanted to puke now.

Cella couldn’t be sure.

Muscle memory, again.

“Wait, what the fuck do you mean?” she heard someone ask sharply to her left.

Cella glanced in that direction, recognizing the two men huddled together in the corner of the room as Marcus’s brothers.

Christopher.

Bene.

She heard their conversation.

In her mind, though, she saw her father. He’d come to her room that morning to ask if she wanted to have breakfast with her mother. They’d been at the hotel overnight for her cousin’s wedding. Someone in the hallway had said something to her father. That horrified look on his face when he turned back to Cella in the room …

She would never forget that look.

That moment when she knew something happened to William.

Tiffany had been in the car when they shot it up, and run him off the road. He wasn’t really the target, he was just easy for them to attack. A way to make a point to the Marcellos because that was how the fucking mafia worked.

Her husband hadn’t needed to be the person who started the war between her family and another one. He didn’t even need to be made. He just had to be an easy fucking target and connected to their family in some way.

“It’s definitely the bikers, then?” she heard Bene ask.

“All the witnesses, the few people that were at the place,” Chris replied, “all said the same thing. They heard the bikes—the two at the lobby actually saw the bikers go past and throw the shit through the windows. So, yes.”

“Fuck. Dad is gonna—”

“Let Marcus handle it,” Chris said fast. “That is what Dad needs to do.”

“Yeah, I know, but … whatever, how the fuck did they even know Marcus was there today? And why the hell didn’t he just put those assholes down months ago when they first started causing problems?”

Wait …

Had this been happening for a while?

Were the Guzzis having issues with rivals that had turned violent?

The thought made Cella sick because she hadn’t known. If she had, then she very well might have made different choices for her daughter’s safety. She’d trusted Marcus to keep them safe. That’s what he told her he would do, but how was keeping information like that from her making sure they were safe?

“Because it’s Marcus.” Chris blew out a hard breath, adding, “It’s Marcus, Bene, and he knows better than to just answer violence with more violence. It’s the last resort—always.”