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“Don’t do it! Don’t!” D’Artagnan snarled. There was no waver to my father’s hold, his face stern, his jaw clenched.
“Possiate bruciare tutti all’Inferno!” My father’s wish that we all burn in hell was a telling statement. He cared nothing about his family.
The slow motion continued and I shifted my gaze toward D’Artagnan. A life for a life. Isn’t that what was supposed to happen? My father had killed his papa. Now it was time for payback. I whispered the three little words I’d longed to say to my husband my entire life.
“I love you.”
The flash in my father’s eyes drove a powerful set of images into mine, my life in a pictorial of the time I’d spent with D’Artagnan. And if I should die today, I would go with love in my heart.
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CHAPTER25
“Non dimenticare mai che la vita è preziosa. Per uno dannare un’anima all’Inferno significherà che la sua sarà persa in futuro.”
—Teresa Conti
D’Artagnan
Never forget life is precious. For one to damn a soul into hell will mean his will be forfeited in the future. It was something my beautiful birth mother had said on the first and last day I’d told her I’d wanted to kill my real father with my bare hands. On that day, she’d had bruises on her face inflicted by my father, her lip swollen. I’d tossed him against the wall in an effort to protect her. In turn, he’d broken my arm. And after he’d left and I’d made my proclamation, she’d sat me down calmly, rubbing my face, whispering those very words.
It had been a cathartic moment, a self-realization that violence was perpetuated by greed and fear. My father was terrified of someone or something. Now I knew.
He’d been fearful of the man who’d just been shot, the once powerful dictator Roberto Lazarro.
I’d wanted nothing more at this moment than to end the man’s life, the need for vengeance strong. I was prepared to die in order to save the woman I loved, only that wasn’t possible given the situation. So I reacted.
But not quickly enough.
Someone else had handled the dirty deed.
As I lifted my head, staring into Enzo’s eyes, a moment of reverence settled between us. He’d chosen to take his father’s life to save his sister’s. It was a moment of reckoning and one that would be remembered with respect. Did it change the decisions he’d made up to this point? No, but it would lessen the punishment required.
Roberto had slowly dropped to his knees, his eyes still wide open as he stared at his daughter. And in his dying breath, he’d offered her a slim chance at finding peace.
“Forgive me.”
Raphaelo moved quickly, grabbing the weapon from Enzo’s hand, pulling him away from Lucia. Exhaling, I took a long stride toward her, lowering to my knees and cupping her chin before cradling her against my chest.
“Good riddance,” Antonio said from behind me.
“Have some respect, son,” Giuseppe muttered. “You show signs of being a great leader, D’Artagnan. Do not take that lightly. I will be watching what you do carefully.”
When the two turned to leave, Raphaelo opened his eyes wide, questioning silently if he should intervene.
“Let them go. They know their place.” At least for today. The future would bring many more battles that would need to be controlled. “Keep Enzo here. I need to talk with him. Lorenzo. Ensure Lucia’s mother and sister are secure. Dante. Remove the body but do so with respect. Don Lazarro will be buried with honor.” I eased my weapon behind my back, making eye contact with everyone in the room. They knew I was in full control.
“Yes, sir,” Dante and Lorenzo said in unison.
Lucia lifted her head, the usually strong woman holding tears in her eyes. She said nothing at first, allowing me to provide a moment of comfort. I pulled her from the room, taking her to another part of the house. She clung to me, her breathing ragged. I yanked a hand towel from the rack, wetting it under the faucet then carefully wiping blood from her face. My anger ebbed and flowed, but I was also saddened by the ridiculous loss.
And for wasting so many years on rage.
When we were alone in the kitchen, she finally took a deep breath. “My father wanted to kill me.”
“I know,leonessa, but he didn’t, and I wouldn’t have allowed him to.”
The corners of her mouth turned up. When she pressed her icy fingers against my cheek, trembling in my hold, a part of me wished I’d been the one to pull the trigger.
