Page 140 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

That was all he said.

Siena was frozen to the spot. “What is it?”

“I … don’t know. I mean, I do—fuck.”

His outburst sent a sharp stab of cold dread piercing into her heart. The file went flying from John’s hand, and crashed into a wall in the next second. Papers scattered everywhere. In the next breath, he grabbed the small table that held knickknacks and a decorative glass bowl, and overturned it with just a flick of his wrist.

Glass shattered all over the floor. John’s curses reverberated through the house.

Siena was still frozen in place.

She didn’t know what to do. Move, or stay right where she was. A fear settled deep in her gut. Not a fear of John, but of the unknown. Because she realized in that moment that she didn’t know how to help him.

“John,” Siena said, “are you—”

“Why would they fucking send me that?” John’s fist crashed through the wall, crumbling plaster. He didn’t even flinch. She didn’t think he felt the pain. Turning fast, he faced her with wild eyes and teeth bared. “Like they think I don’t already know what your family did to mine? Like I need a fucking reminder everyday now, or something?”

Siena didn’t understand what he was talking about. She didn’t understand what had set this off.

“John—”

No matter what, this was still John to her. Her John. Even angry, confused, and irrational. He was still her John. She saw his outburst, and faced it head-on.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she said.

“Fuck.”

One last curse, and one more thrown item to the floor, and John turned his back. As fast as he was in front of her, he was gone. She heard his footsteps echo as he headed up the stairs.

Yet, she was still frozen in place.

It took far too long for Siena to move again. Instead of going after John, she moved to the papers on the floor. She picked up one, and then another. Newspaper clippings, and items of a similar nature stared back at her. Her gaze drifted over the words, and the pictures attached.

Old newspapers. Old news.

It was still as clear as day.

The intention was obvious.

Marco Grovatti, one of the headlines read, killed in his home.

Another one … another headline… Johnathan Grovatti, son of murdered mob boss, attends father’s funeral with wife.

Young Calabrese Capo suspected of murdering former boss.

Carl Calabrese takes over Grovatti family.

Over and over again.

Headline after headline.

Newspaper clipping after newspaper clipping. All sent to John. Apparently, by his own family, if she had understood him correctly.

All that bad blood between their families was suddenly staring Siena right in the face. She didn’t know what to do. Go upstairs to John, or stay stuck in her fear?

She knew one thing for sure, though.

John still needed help.