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I'm not even bothering to look at him, let alone listen. I know what he's saying, but I just can't focus on that right now. My mind keeps drifting back to Raven, her hazel eyes full of fear as they locked her up in the basement. How horrible this must be for her psyche. Betrayal or not, Marco's death weighing on me, I'm not sure I can live with myself knowing that I put her back in a cage.
"Teddy, you listening?" Carmine stops pacing, his thin mustache twitching with irritation. I glance at him briefly before turning away, my fists clenching. It's almost like they know what I'm about to do. Every time I think I might go down and get her, either Carmine or Enzo is there, pulling me into some other business discussion.
"Fine, don't listen." Carmine huffs, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Just remember, tomorrow's meeting is crucial. Screw this up and the Maldonado family will—"
"Enough, Carmine!" I shout, slamming my fist on the table. The sound of shattering glass fills the room, shards scattering across the floor like tiny, glittering stars.
Enzo, sitting in the corner of the room, clears his throat. His greying bushy eyebrows furrow as he speaks softly, "Teddy, try to focus. We're all mourning Marco, but we must keep our heads clear."
"Sure, Enzo," I mutter, feeling the exhaustion seeping into my bones. But my thoughts remain with Raven, locked up and alone.
By the time we're done with the business side of things, I'm so beyond tired that I all but collapse into my bedroom. I want to go down to her, but I know that if I do, they'll stop me. Just like they have every other time.
I glance at the bed, empty and inviting, but I refuse to sleep in it. Instead, I opt to sleep on the floor. If she's down there in the dungeon, there's no way I'm sleeping in a bed. The cold, hard ground digs into my skin as I drift into an uneasy sleep, full of nightmares and visions of Raven.
Her face haunts me in my dreams, twisted by pain and terror, begging for mercy that never comes. The sound of her cries is drowned out by the harsh beat of drums, a cruel and relentless rhythm echoing through the darkness. My heart hammers in my chest, threatening to break free from its cage as I reach out to her, desperate to save her from this living nightmare.
But I can't. I'm trapped in my own hell, unable to escape the crushing weight of guilt and helplessness that threatens to consume me whole. And with each passing moment, the music grows louder, more discordant, until it's all I can hear— the deafening soundtrack of my own failure.
ChapterThirty-Eight
A sharp pain jolts me awake, and I realize it's a kick to my ribs. Groaning, I rub the sleep from my eyes and squint up at the figure looming over me. "Get up," Constantino says, his voice as cold as ice. He tosses me a shirt, which I pull on quickly, still wincing from the pain.
"Fine, fine," I mutter, following him down the dimly lit hallway toward my father's old office. The room smells of stale cigars and aged whiskey, a scent that clings to every surface like a stubborn ghost. It's a subtle reminder of the power struggles and deals made in this space. A heavy wooden desk sits in the center, surrounded by leather chairs that have seen better days. The walls are lined with dark bookshelves, filled more with weapons than literature. A single window offers a sliver of light, casting shadows across the floor.
Constantino takes a seat behind the desk, his muscular frame filling the high-backed chair. His short, dark hair is slicked back, emphasizing his piercing green eyes. He exudes confidence and danger, an air of authority that demands respect – or fear. His jaw clenches as he studies me, as if trying to decide whether I'm worth his time or just another problem to be dealt with.
"Alright, Teddy," he says, leaning back in the chair and steepling his fingers. "Let's hear it," Constantino demands, his eyes narrowed in impatience.
I can feel the weight of his gaze, heavy as a judgment. He's always been the more aggressive one, never afraid to take what he wants by force. And right now, he wants answers. But how do you explain something when you don't even understand it yourself?
I take a deep breath, trying to organize the messy web of information in my head. "Okay, so... Raven's here, and there's this whole thing with the Irish and Carmine and Enzo..." I trail off, realizing how convoluted it all sounds.
"Never mind," Constantino cuts me off, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Let's do this one question at a time. What happened to the warehouse?"
"It was blown up, and Marco was killed in the blast," I reply, my voice cracking slightly at the memory of my friend.
"Why was Marco there?" he asks, his tone sharp and unforgiving.
"I don't know," I admit, feeling the weight of my uncertainty settle heavily on my shoulders.
Constantino's gaze hardens as he continues interrogating me. "What do Carmine and Enzo have to do with all this?"
"They've been helping me run the business side of things," I explain, my stomach churning with unease as I think about their possible involvement in everything.
He sighs in disappointment. "And where are Primo and Giovanni when we need them?"
"Primo's out for good 'cause of his new baby, and Giovanni... Well, he followed some girl to Miami to help her run her own family business,” I say, knowing full well how ridiculous it sounds.
"Typical," Constantino snorts, shaking his head. "Always chasing skirts instead of taking care of business." His anger seems to fuel him as he pushes forward. "Now, why is Raven here?"
I hesitate, unsure of where to start. "It's... complicated."
"Then explain it," he snaps. "I'd love to know why the girl you stole from me in high school is suddenly back in our lives."
Taking a deep breath, I launch into Raven's backstory. "She murdered her parents, but it wasn't like I stole her in the traditional sense. I just helped her clean up the scene, and she ran away the next morning."
Constantino looks thoughtful for a moment before nodding his head, accepting my explanation. "Alright. So why is she here now?"
