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“Papa?” I ask when I see his body go solid and his face void of emotion. “What’s going on?”
“Mia carissima, I need you to listen to me,” he says sternly as he rises to his feet and reaches for his gun. “You are to go through the bookcase and stay there until I get you or Umberto does. Do you understand?”
I swallow back the fear but nod. “What’s happening?”
“The Scaffidi’s are coming,” he says, without missing a beat. “They’re coming for me, bambina. They’re coming for everyone I love. I need you to do as I say and go through the bookcase.”
There’s no emotion in his voice, which let’s me know he’s been waiting for this day to come for a long time. I heard the rumors that he killed Scaffidi’s son—his only son, Marco. But that was months ago, and there was no retaliation, so we’d all assumed it was over with. Now, they’re out for revenge, and they’re coming for my father.
“Papa.” I swallow hard at the thought of something happening to him. “Please,” I whimper.
He moves toward me and pulls me into his arms. “Ti amo, Portia. Non dimenticare mai che,” he whispers as he presses a kiss to my head. “Go,” he instructs. “We only have a little time. Now go.”
He pulls me toward the bookcase and ironically pulls out a vintage edition of War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy. There’s a slight whirring sound, followed by creaking, then the bookcase swings open like a door, and I see a barely lit tunnel behind him.
“Papa?” I ask as I turn to face him. I already know in my heart that I’m going alone through this tunnel while he stays here and fights those who are coming for him and our family.
“Go, bambina,” he instructs.
“Ti amo, Papa,” I whisper as I press a kiss against his cheek, then I hurry through the secret door. The moment I’m in the tunnel, I turn to see my father giving me a soft look as he closes the door.
My heart is beating wildly. I have no idea what to do. Should I run or stay? Everything in me is telling me to stay put and wait for Papa or Umberto, but there’s another side of me that’s urging me to run and find someone to help.
My inner musings are cut off when I hear deep voices talking. I step closer to the wall, trying to hear better.
“Davide,” I hear someone say, the masculine voice is unfamiliar to me. “You knew we were coming,” The unknown man continues, his tone filled with displeasure. “How?”
“I’m surprised it’s taken you this long, Marco. You’ve known from the moment Marco Junior died that it was I who did it. Why wait so long for revenge?”
My lips part in surprise. Why is my father antagonizing him? He’s only going to make it worse. What is he doing?
Bone chilling laughter filters through the air. “Ah, Davide, I’ve heard the rumors. The man who is the hitman for the Famiglia. Do you think your family will miss you? What about that gorgeous daughter of yours?”
“Watch it, Marco,” my father warns. “My daughter is off fucking limits.”
“And my son wasn’t?”
“Your son was part of this life, Marco. He was on his way to becoming your underboss. You think we don’t know that he managed to work his way through the ranks? Hmm? What about the fact that he was raping girls from the Famiglia? The Outfit didn’t care. As long as your men were doing what they needed, that was all that mattered.”
“My son was doing what he wanted.”
“He raped a nine-year-old girl,” my father shouts. “Tell me, asshole, how the fuck is that normal?”
“You’ll die for the disrespect you have shown me,” the asshole growls. “For killing my son.”
“I killed an animal. One that needed to be put down. Had you been a decent father, you would have done it yourself.”
The laughter is back again, and this time it’s a lot more maniacal than before. “Your wife is going to become mine, and your daughter is going to be my whore.”
“Over my fucking dead body,” my father roars.
“That can be easily arranged,” the bastard retorts.
A gunshot rings out, and it’s followed by a thud, then silence.
I crumple to the floor, tears flowing down my face as I press a hand to my mouth to stop my cry from escaping.
Papa...
