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I grit my teeth, swallowing my retort. My blood swooshes through my veins as I prepare myself to fight. Getting into my car, I wave off my men. Spinning my tires, I leave home, heading toward the address. I rip through the streets, breaking every law until I’m parking in front of an old, abandoned house. My old foster house, to be precise.
The neighborhood has fallen apart more since I left. Most houses on this street are boarded up, appearing vacant. Knowing it was my past that placed Aly in danger crushes me. I promised to protect her no matter what, and she fell through my grasp. She doesn’t deserve to pay for my sins.
I walk in, and I’m slapped across the face with memories. The house has aged but is the same. The living room couches hold a few additional holes but haven’t moved. The pictures on the wall still have the same photographs as they did sixteen years ago.
On the coffee table, there are pictures of me and Aly together. They start when she was sixteen and continue to our wedding. I was a fool to believe that no one knew about my infatuation with her. A sick feeling that I have been played begins to take root in me. My whole body and mind are in turmoil, fighting over how I fucked everything up. I should have stayed watching Aly from the sidelines. I should have never given in to my craving. But then her face appears in my mind, and I know saying those things would never make them true. If I were to do it all again, I could never hold out from seeing her and taking her. She consumes me to the point I have a hard time focusing.
“Show yourself,” I holler out. How dare they make me come alone, then hide from me. They wanted me here. Now it’s time to do business.
I almost swallow my tongue when I watch Coy walk out, clapping his hands.
I fucking knew it.
“Just couldn’t handle her happy, could you?” Not only did I watch Aly through the years, but I was forced to witness Coy pick up the pieces when I couldn’t be there. The times he drove her home because I couldn’t risk being seen. The time he held her in his arms, carrying her away to safety, when I was the one covering their backs. I hated each time she would look at him, and I wondered if she thought of me.
He laughs freely. “I was stupid to think I was alone in wanting her attention. I have to say you caught me off guard, and no one else has ever been able to say that.”
“Well, you have me here. What now?”
“This isn’t my show. I wanted a second of your time before the real fun begins.” He smiles at me, laughing like I’m the joke. I don’t even know what he means, but I let him keep talking, hoping he’ll drop some clues. “What information did you want to trade with Mancini?”
“What do you have in return for me? You’re obviously a middleman and have no bearing on whether Aly is safe.”
“You see, Aly was promised to me when I turned twenty-one and became a made man. But I can see you love her, and out of my respect for her, I won’t kill you. If she dies, her blood is on your hands, not mine. She’s not here because of me. As soon as she said ‘I do’ to you, I stopped having a say.”
“How about a truce, man to man?” I counter. Who knows what the FBI has on everyone? Maybe it will come in handy one day.
He holds out his hand, and I take it with a firm shake. “Jonny was backstabbing everyone and giving information to the FBI so he would be the one left standing at the end of it all. Rumor is they’re coming for you tonight.”
Coy nods, his face serious. “Thank you.”
I watch him walk out of the house and am left with the thought, What the fuck?
“You clean up nice,” an unknown voice says, appearing in the hallway.
“Not as nice as us though,” another voice comes from behind me.
Turning around, I think I’m seeing ghosts. My two friends, Scott and Jay, from when I was ten years old are now standing a few feet from me. I swear it’s them. Their voices have changed and their looks have matured enough for me to question myself.
“You’re dead.” It almost sounds as if I’m in awe. I watched them take a bullet, both of them. I saw their lifeless bodies.
“Mancini saved us, took us in. He gave us shelter, clothes, a job. We owe him everything, while you ran away to be someone’s puppet. We never forgot about our friend who left us high and dry. Mancini didn’t even have to pay us when he gave us this job. We welcomed it, waiting for our revenge on you,” Jay says.
I’m at a loss for words. I thought my friends were dead. I had their deaths sitting on my shoulders my whole life. Guilt ate at me further each day as I thought about when they were alive. The realization that I was right and Mancini is behind Aly’s disappearance, hits me hard.
Mancini has been waiting in the reeds for a moment to strike. Instantly, I see his plan laid out in front of me. This is the diversion. Aly is my trap. Whatever he’s doing right now, he didn’t want me there for backup. He knows my once so-called friends will kill Aly, and I will be blamed, while he becomes a victor in whatever plan he’s set out right now. The families will be forced to side with him when there is no opposition.
I hear a scream and start to follow it, when a Glock is shoved in my face.
“Don’t move.” Scott holds the gun to my temple as Jay drags Aly out in front of me.
She’s dirty, dried blood on her face and clothes. Her hair is disheveled, her eyes wild.
My “friend” Jay brings out his phone. I can hear my sister swearing at Mancini. “You lost Aly the moment you chose your family. I’m giving you a do-over. Aly or your sister!” Mancini yells as I watch him on the screen, holding onto my sister’s hair while tears stream down her face. The live video zooms out. They’re in the middle of our driveway, dead bodies lining the area. Aria tries to get out of Mancini’s grasp, but he pushes her to the ground.
“Take me,” I say as my breath whooshes out of me. I can’t breathe as my eyes go from my wife to my sister. It feels like déjà vu from our reception all over again.
“Dying is the easy part, Luca. It’s living with the consequences that’s hard,” Scott sneers, moving the gun that was pointed at me to Aly. I could overpower them both, but that won’t save my sister.
