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“For my wife,” Thomas murmurs as he begins to slice.
Enzo releases a silent scream, his lips opening and closing as he tries to suck in air. He’s dying. It’s a matter of a few minutes now. I can’t draw it out any longer, as much as I’d like to.
“Before you leave this earth, I think it might interest you to know this is the same way I killed your father.”
He looks up at me, gurgles, and shakes his head.
“Gwen asked that of me. She said it was the only suitable punishment for a man with no integrity left. It’s only fitting that you’ll die choking down the bitter memory of your crimes too.”
He tries to speak, his neck muscles working, but nothing comes out. I don’t care what he has to say anymore. Thomas has finished sawing off his favorite appendage, and the time for talking is over.
“May I?” he gestures to Enzo’s mouth.
“Be my guest.”
“Wait,” Enzo chokes, using the last of his strength to smile through his bloody teeth. He’s staring at me, and there’s something unsettling about his expression. I don’t understand what it is until he gets the last word.
“I’ve already ruined your life. You just don’t know it yet.”
33
Alessio
“What the fuck is going on?” I stab my finger against the phone, disconnecting my tenth unanswered call to Damien.
“I’m sure there’s an explanation,” Angelo tries to reassure me, but even as he says it, I can hear the uncertainty in his voice.
“No.” I try Natalia’s phone again, but there’s no response. “This isn’t right.”
I don’t want to admit that Enzo’s last words are ringing in my ears. When he said them, I tried to discredit them, but I’ve known him too long to doubt his certainty. It was written in his eyes. He didn’t care that he was dying because he thought he’d won.
It’s not a coincidence that I can’t get a response from Damien or Natalia. There’s a sickness in my gut I want to ignore, but I can’t. It only gets stronger as Angelo finally pulls up to the gate at the house.
My phone rings as we drive through, and my pulse pounds in my ears as I rush to check it, only to see that it’s Mrs. Hudson. For a second, I consider rejecting it, but then I wonder if Nino ever made it to her house today.
“Mrs. Hudson,” I answer briskly. “Is Nino there?”
“What? No, he’s not here.”
There’s a pause, and I’m trying to formulate the necessary words to respond when she fills the silence.
“Mrs. Scarcello picked him up two hours ago. That’s why I was calling. I wanted to make sure she was alright.”
“What do you mean was she alright?” I demand.
Mrs. Hudson clears her throat. “She had an awful bruise on her face. When I asked her about it, she said she fell, but something didn’t feel right. Her guard wasn’t with her, and I didn’t think she should be driving, but I couldn’t get her to listen. She was so jumpy.”
“Did she say where she was going?” I croak.
“No. I assumed home,” Mrs. Hudson answers just as Angelo stops the car abruptly.
When I glance over at him, he looks rattled, and it isn’t until I follow his gaze that I realize why.
“Mrs. Hudson, I have to go.”
I don’t know if she says goodbye before I disconnect the call, but I’m already scrambling out the door. Angelo calls after me as I move past Damien’s dead body in a daze, heading straight for the house.
“Alessio.” He calls again, but I can’t respond.
I gain entry through the security system, and the house is eerily quiet. So much so that the sound of my footsteps seem to ricochet off the walls until I come to a stop in the middle of the foyer.
“Natalia,” I call out for her as my chest caves inward. “Natalia!”
Angelo puts a hand on my shoulder, startling me, and when I turn, he seems haunted by whatever it is he sees in my eyes.
“Natalia!” I bellow.
“Alessio.” Angelo tries to halt me, but I can’t stop.
“Natalia!” I scream her name until my lungs burn, moving through the house like a phantom.
When I reach her room and find it empty, I tear through her closet. Her clothes are here. Her suitcases are too. In the bathroom, her toiletries are still sitting on the counter. But it doesn’t bring me relief. I know. She left everything behind. She left me behind.
“Nino.” My voice is hoarse by the time I make it to his room, but it’s as vacant as my heart.
I stand there like a fool, staring at that goddamned alien comforter, and my eyes burn. They’re gone. My whole fucking life is gone.
“Alessio.” Angelo calls out from the doorway, and when I turn to face him, he jerks his chin in a gesture for me to follow him. “I think you’re going to want to see this.”
