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At least, that was what I had thought until I heard the sound of a glass breaking. I froze and immediately darted to where Alexander and Tony were. There was no shouting or fighting. Instead, I saw Tony looking melancholic, and when he saw me, he gave me a sad smile. Turning to Alexander, I was astounded at what I saw.
Alexander was staring into the space in front of him with his eyes wide open, like the whole world was crumbling around him. He didn't even shake. He stood there in total paralysis.
I took a step forward with concern etched on my face.
"I'm sorry, Alessandro," Tony whispered before walking to me.
"What happened?" I asked without taking my eyes off Alexander.
"I wish I could stay, but I can't. There are many things to do, but I will come back." Tony spoke in a rushed manner. "You're the only one that can comfort him, Aryana."
"What happened?" I gritted out when he didn't get to the point. I was alarmed when I saw a tear fall from Alexander's eyes. Then, I whipped my head towards Tony, ready to shout at him to tell me what happened, but the shiny sheen in his eyes stopped me. His eyes were also glistening with tears.
"What happened?" I asked again in a whisper.
"The Don…is dead."
CHAPTER 24
Chapter 24
Alexander
I couldn't believe what my second-in-command had just told me. Was my father gone? No. No. Impossible! How…My father?
I could vaguely make out Tony and Aryana talking next to me, the only thing in my ears was the repeated words of Tony telling me that my father was no more.
‘Mi dispiace, fratello. Tuo padre è morto. Non c'è più.’
‘Tuo padre è morto. Non c'è più.’
'Non c'è più.'
No more?
As much as I wanted to, as much as my head was begging, I couldn't stop replaying Tony's words. My head tilted as though I was going to faint, my body falling onto the cold, wooden floor. The spots in my vision made me feel like I was about to lose consciousness, my head spinning and sight blurring, and my breaths quickening as my mind struggled to believe that my father was dead.
It wasn't as if I wasn't aware that my father still wouldn't leave me forever. He was an old man slowly reaching the end of his lifespan, but I didn't think he would go so quickly and not in this way. I had believed that there had been more time. It was like when he was sick, except there was no waking up. He would never open his eyes and call me 'mio fiction.
The cocktail of emotions and flashbacks made me feel stuck in place, my body surrounded by a thick, transparent liquid, limbs flailing, and yet barely a hair moved a millimeter as the viscous fluid made me choke. I desperately wanted to move, to get help from someone I knew was just a few steps away, but I couldn't stop the air from getting thicker and thicker, binding me to the floor, suspended from the ceiling.
As my head spun, rotating like a carousel, I could do nothing as my body betrayed me, legs giving way and knees buckling under the world's weight. To keep myself from toppling over, I was forced to lean heavily against the wall, the wood cold even through my clothes as my body slid to the floor.
I wanted to go back in time. To where exactly, I didn't know. Did I want to go back to when my father decided to send me away? Did I want to go back to before I had even slept with Aryana to prevent the whole situation from happening? I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't think. Nothing joined at the seams like it was meant to, as if reality was tearing itself apart.
In the back of my head, I thought I heard a voice calling, a familiar word bouncing over my skull, but I had no time to focus when my mind was spinning in the worst form of vertigo. I was sure I had heard another word and tried to pinpoint what was happening.
"Alessandro?" I finally heard someone call me by my name. It was the only thing I could make out, but it was enough to reassure me that it wasn't my imagination.
In an instant, I felt hands on my shoulders, hands on my legs, and over my body. I hated being unable to see who it was because they felt nothing like my father's wrinkled hands riddled with callouses from using a gun. There were more hands on my face, or maybe they were the same, but all I knew was that I couldn't breathe, the one thing my body depended on to do right.
There was a different voice calling my name, perhaps saying something else. I needed to know who it was, focus on the voice and focus on the repeated words and calls of my name to ground myself back into reality.
"Alexander, please look at me." I heard the person plead, and the tone finally helped me to drag his eyelids open to look at the source of the voice.
I met Aryana's worried face, eyes wide in panic, and I couldn't think for a moment as to why Aryana seemed to be on edge before realizing it was because of me. Tony was by her side, his face also reflecting the same expression on Aryana's face, though it was tinged with sadness.
I let myself fall limp, leaning forwards into Aryana's arms, no longer trying to hold myself against the door. The effort was far too much, and the hands-on my back let me regain some control, my mind centering on what hurt the most on instinct. Though helping me to calm down, Aryana and Tony's presence didn't eliminate the cause of the sheer pain I felt.
