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That the deception, greed, and hunger go so much deeper?
How do I explain how I feel like it's my job to get retribution for my entire family? Some I've never even met. Some I didn't even know existed until two years ago.
“What made you come here?” he asks, hand to my throat. Gently, no pressure, but his eyes are begging me to tell him the truth. To drop the fabricated lies and admit it all.
Once and for all, to let it all out into the open.
“My sister. My mother. My father. Me.”
“Explain. I need to know,” he says, pressing into me more. His eyes are volatile, like he’s on edge.
Like he knows that in the same way what happened with Paulie and then Marco changed how I saw things, what I’m about to tell him will change him.
“Dante, you’re scaring me,” I start, staring up at his black eyes demanding an answer.
Instantly, he moves his hand to my hair, the touch soft, and his face dips until he's nose to nose with me.
“You never fear me, Delilah. Ever. You fear the lives of anyone who puts their hands on you. You fear for the lives of anyone who gets in the way of what you want because I will cut them at their knees for even thinking it. But you never, ever fear me.”
Somehow, I know he means that. I know it’s the truth.
“Now, tell me everything,” he says. But still…
“No.” The word vibrates in the room.
“What?”
“I can’t just tell you everything. I won’t.”
“Delilah, this isn't a game—”
“I can’t give you more when you give me absolutely nothing.” I stand straighter. “You want me to give you everything, lay it at your feet. You expect me to just say, Yes Dante, and do whatever you ask. You keep telling me to trust you.” I lick my lips which feel inexplicably dry all of a sudden. “Tell me why? Why should I trust you when you tell me nothing?”
He stares at me, and it seems like time stops.
I wonder for a moment if this is it, if he’ll say no. If the spell will be broken and we’ll both see that this won’t work. This could be the end.
Because I understand now, in my own way, that we’re at an impasse. I need something to keep the scales balanced.
But then he speaks, and it changes everything.
“I almost gave up,” he says, and my breathing stops. He’s looking at me, but it’s almost as if he’s not seeing me. He’s somewhere else, lost in some far off memory. “At some point, I realized he wasn’t good. I’d spent… god. I’ve spent my entire life trying to see the good in him. My mom wanted that—for Tony and me to have a good father. He’s a good man, Dante. She told me that a lot. I was young, but I remember that.” His hand moves to my cheek, thumb brushing the skin there like a metronome.
In time with the rapid breaths I’m taking.
“In some way, it felt like if I saw the truth, if I admitted even to myself that he was bad, that things had gone too far and Carmine needed to be stopped, I was destroying her memory. It’s stupid, but. . .”
I cut him off.
“No. It makes sense. I did the same. I saw the best in Shane because it’s what my mom wanted.” He gives me a small, sad smile.
“Two years ago, I was sitting outside a police station in Jersey City, ready to end it all.” The world stops. “I had everything I needed. Recordings and notes and receipts. Names. Locations where bodies are buried. It was the only way I could think to stop the fucking poison that my family had become. The greed and the ambition started to hurt innocents. It wasn’t . . . it wasn’t what the family was supposed to be about. I was done.” My hand moves, brushing the hunk of hair that falls onto his forehead back, and his face moves into my touch, like he needs it for comfort.
“I wasn’t looking for WITSEC. I wasn’t looking for immunity. I was willing to pay whatever I had to. I also know . . . once things started rolling, once things were brought to court, I probably would . . . I wouldn’t be around long.”
A suicide mission.
“I was okay with that.”
