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MIA
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Tears pour down myface as Connor tells me his story. He’s right—it’s dangerous that I know. Possibly more than anyone else because Joe Mancini is my father.
I know he’s done terrible things. I also know he’s responsible for the deaths of many people. Fathers and even mothers.
But children?
I feel equal parts shame, hatred, and nausea at the fact it could be my father who was responsible.
God, my heart is tearing apart imagining what Connor saw that day as a scared little boy under his parents’ stairs, watching this Carlos person shoot his family one by one.
His sister, Rebecca. A tiny child.
Then, thinking they might hunt him as he withheld his screams and tears, hoping not to be found.
It’s horrific.
Connor believes it might be my father who ordered this Carlos to do these horrific things. I want to deny it, but we both know it’s possible.
I brush away my tears with my arm, and more begin falling just as quickly. I don’t know how I’m able to departmentalize how I feel about my family. Perhaps it’s a coping mechanism. How can I love my father while still being aware he does these things?
It’s for this exact reason I don’t want to be part of the mafia world.
From drugs to people trafficking and worse, I cannot and won’t work in my family’s business. Yet, to turn a blind eye and let Connor actively search for proof that my father ordered the slaughter of his family?
To marry him and not warn my father...To sit back and let him kill my father?
Because I know he will.
Can I do that?
Can I stay silent and carry on with my life, knowing this is going on? While loving the man who could kill him?
It’s asking too much.
“It may not be him, Mia,” Connor says, sitting on the edge of his desk as I stand between his legs and stare into space over his shoulder.
He wipes a couple of tears from my cheek.
“If it is, you will kill him,” I say, sniffing.
He’s silent.
When he doesn’t reply after a long minute, I meet his eyes. The pain on his face mirrors how I feel. This is an impossible situation.
“You belong to me, Mia,” Connor says, his voice thick as he grips my face almost painfully. “You are mine, and I’m going to fucking marry you.”
