Page 120 of Made in Love and Blood

He fucking warned him. Bring on those consequences.

Nico blew up. All the way apart.

His first punch nailed Marco right in the side of the head. He didn’t even see the people he had to jump through to do it. The way his knuckles split at the force of the first crack of bone against bone seared pain straight into his palm and wrist, but that didn’t stop him from doing it again. He hammered his brother another three times, between his face and head, before Marco hit the ground and three people rushed in to pull him off.

Marco laughed while others shouted. Bleeding, he laughed at Nico. It only pissed him off more.

He’d have killed him right then and there. In front of all those people, his own damn father, and God. Nico would murder him if he said one more thing about Frankie or even brought up the suggestion of her.

“Talk about her again!” Nico hurled at Marco. “I’ll fucking kill you—do it again!”

Salvatore tried to say something to him, holding back his right. He couldn’t hear the man through the red in his vision and the blood pumping in his head. Giorgio, at his left, yanking on him as well, slapped his son hard. Nico was used to that kind of thing from his father; he didn’t even react.

It was only Matty, who grabbed Nico into a chokehold, that finally got him somewhat under control. Mostly because the man squeezed his arm so tight that black spots clouded Nico’s vision.

“Jesus Christ, relax, kid,” Matty huffed at his back.

He still got one last kick into Marco.

“Nico, that’s enough!” his father roared.

His ears rang.

Then, to Marco, Giorgio ordered, “You better get the fuck out of my face. I don’t know what shit you just pulled, but I’ve seen about enough from you as well tonight. We all know you’re not innocent.”

Each word from their father had been forced through clenched teeth. Spitting blood Nico’s way, Marco pushed himself up from the ground. Nico’s stare didn’t waver from Marco until the asshole climbed in the back of the SUV, and the vehicle immediately pulled off.

Only then could he breathe. Could he think. Could he even care.

All at once, he became acutely aware of the situation around him. The many eyes watching the scene unfold. Whispers and curses floated about the driveway like bubbles drifting overhead in the wind before bursting right over top of his head, raining down like acid on his skin.

Matty let him go.

Giorgio used that to his advantage.

Nico’s back slammed into the side of the SUV from the force of his father’s hand finding his throat. The man held him there, hitting him again with a sharp open hand that stung a little more the second time around.

“Which girl?” Giorgio snarled, millimeters from Nico’s face.

Blood trickled down his bottom lip. He tasted it with a swipe of his tongue.

Nico’s gaze met Salvatore’s over his father’s shoulder. He couldn’t say it.

“My daughter,” Salvatore informed quietly.

Giorgio glared back and forth between the two, but then his gaze lingered on Salvatore in the end. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a developing situation. New, okay? I’m handling it,” Sal lied easily.

“How new is it?”

“Recent,” Nico forced out.

Giorgio squeezed Nico’s throat harder.

He could barely breathe now. The spots came back in his vision, speckled and bursting.

“Come on, Giorgio, shit, let the kid go,” Sal hissed. “People are fucking watching and this is my home. My daughter’s—”