AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Ma. No.” I grabbed her hand before she could pull away from me. “If I go home, Franco will just try to kill me again. You just said that. That’s why I need to leave.”
She was shaking her head before I was even done speaking. “No, no, no.”
“I need to leave for the safety of you and my siblings. I need to leave for the safety of myself. I can’t go back home,” I added in a softer voice. Mom began to cry. “And once I’m gone, we can’t really talk anymore.”
She whipped her head up to glare at me. “Don’t even say that, Antonio Moretti. You’re my son. I can’t live the rest of my life without you.”
“You won’t, Ma. I’ll come back, and when I do, I’ll take down Franco for good. But until then, I need to go off on my own and gain some power. I won’t stand a chance against Franco otherwise. And we can’t talk because that would just put you into danger with Franco. You need to understand.” I squeezed her hand tight even as she tried pulling away. “Tell me you understand.”
“I hate this,” she whispered angerly.
“I know. But what other choice do I have?” I knew the moment I said those words she understood.
“I love you, Antonio.”
“I love you, too, Ma.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “Are you going to at least say goodbye to your siblings?”
“No. I can’t. Franco is out there looking for me. I need to go.”
“Cecilia won’t be happy that you didn’t say goodbye.”
A pang of guilt flashed through me. “I know. But I have to do this now.”
With a final kiss to my head, Mom stood up and walked away, understanding I needed to go at this alone.
* * *
And alone I still am.
Watching my family through the window and remembering my goodbye with my mom makes me feel lonelier than ever before.
And whensheenters the room, I almost lose my resolve. Cecilia. My sister. The one I was always closest to.
We could almost be twins for how similar we look. At just two years younger than me, we were always tied at the hip growing up. We fought over stupid shit, but we also comforted each other when times got hard, like right after our dad died. At twenty-one, she should definitely be married now. I wonder why she’s still at home, un-married. When it came to my three older sisters, my mom was desperate to marry them off. And she succeeded. All three are happy with their husbands. Emilia with Marco, head of the LA Mafia. Gemma with Viktor, head of the Russian mob here in New York. And Francesca with Leo, Marco’s second-in-command.
Is the reason Cecilia isn’t married yet because of me? Is our mom putting their lives on hold because she’s waiting for me to come back home?
Cecilia kneels on the floor and bows her head over the couch. Even though I can’t hear her, I know she’s saying a prayer. My family was raised Catholic, but Cecilia is the only one who seemed to stick with religion. The rest of us would probably be seen as heathens in the eyes of the Lord. I know I definitely am.
I’m desperate to ask Cecilia how she’s been. Last I saw her, she was crushing on her personal guard, Theo. Nothing else mattered.
But now, watching her, there’s a heaviness to her shoulders I’ve never seen before. I wish I could do in there and tell her everything will be all right.
And then Franco enters the room. Everyone tenses, even Mia once she manages to look up from her phone. At nineteen, she’s too obsessed with the damn thing. Mom subtly puts herself in the way of Lucia and Luca. The two ten-year-olds stop chasing each other and listen to whatever Franco is telling them. I can’t read his lips. Whatever he’s saying remains a mystery to me.
For just a second, his eyes look up, and I swear, they meet mine across the street. I duck behind a tree and take a deep breath before looking back. He’s walking out of the room now, toward the kitchen and not the front door. I release my breath slowly. He didn’t see me.
I’m getting fucking paranoid.
With one last look at my family, I walk away, back toward my quiet apartment, all alone.
* * *
My phone ringswhen I return home. It’s Viktor, Gemma’s husband and the head of the Russian mob. We’ve stayed in contact, reaching out every now and again. Back when I was fourteen, he beat the shit out of me, and it created this strange bond between us. He really shouldn’t be reaching out to me, though, because he made a deal with Franco years ago to work together.
“Hey, Viktor,” I say, sitting down on my couch.
