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I turn toward the SUV. My uncle looks at me through the open window. They moved him from the 4x4 to accommodate the kids. He stares at me with a mixture of dread and acceptance as I approach.
Fuck. I need a fag. A joint.
“Angelo,” he says before I reach the car. “You got them back. I know what has to happen. I’m not trying to dodge my fate. All I ask is that you spare Gianni.”
I don’t answer because it’s not a promise I can make.
“I beg you,” he says. “If we ever meant anything to you as family—”
The ringtone of my phone cuts him short. Taking the phone from my pocket, I check the screen, expecting it to be Sabella. It’s an unlisted number. I never take unlisted numbers, but given the circumstances, I swipe the screen. My gut tightens as I lift the phone to my ear. If it’s that motherfucker Marziale, I’ll tell him in detail how his very short future is about to play out.
“Mr. Russo?” a female voice says. “Mr. Angelo Russo?”
My tone is brusque. “That’s me.”
Hers is apologetic. No, sympathetic. “This is Dr. Casanova. I’m calling from the Saint Julia Hospital. I’m afraid I have bad news.”
I grip the phone hard. “My driver? Waldo Torre?”
“What? Mr. Russo, can you hear me?”
“I’m here.”
“I’m calling about your wife.”
Everything inside me goes still. The environment disappears. The night turns colorless. I don’t feel the cold. I don’t smell the crispness of the air or taste the dust that crunches under my teeth. My senses shut down.
I saw her. She’s in the shower. She has to be.
“Your wife,” she says again, gentler this time. “Sabella Russo.”
My words are harsh for no reason. I don’t have control over my voice. “What about her?”
“She’s been admitted with us.”
My brain refuses to make sense of what she’s saying. “Admitted?”
“Mr. Russo,” she starts in that way people do when they’re about to give you bad news. “There’s been an incident. I’m so sorry.” A hesitant pause follows. “Your wife was assaulted.”
Assaulted.
Assaulted.
The world tilts.
“Mr. Russo?”
I speak, but it feels as if the question comes from someone else. “What did you say?”
“Can you come down to the hospital?”
Assaulted.
My wife.
My Sabella.
Understanding hits me like an axe splitting my skull.
