“Move out of the way please,” she asks Sage in a no-nonsense voice.
He lets go and moves off the bed but keeps holding my hand. The nurse checks all my vitals before speaking to me.
“Hi, I’m Nurse Scott. Do you remember what happened?” she asks, making notes on the chart in her hand.
“The limo exploded,” I answer flatly, and she nods.
“Yes, I’m sorry for all of your losses, Ms. Russo.”All my losses?
“Who else?” I demand of Sage, and he flinches but looks me directly in the eye as he breaks the news.
“I’m so sorry, Tori, but we lost Carla too.” Just as the final word leaves his mouth, I turn to the side and vomit bile onto the floor. The nurse jumps out of the way, so I don’t splatter her feet. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, expecting her to scold me, but she just looks at me, her eyes full of sympathy. She tells me she’s going to find someone to clean it up and leaves quietly, and Sage returns to his seat beside me.
I have no tears left to cry, and I need to know everything. I channel my anger, refusing to give into the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. I’ve been taught that this organization has no room for feelings. “Tell me,” I order, and I’m not sure what he sees in my eyes, but whatever it is makes him shudder before he starts.
“Before I begin, if it’s any comfort, both of them died instantly. Mickey is alive, but he’s in a coma. He was standing on the other side of the vehicle because he stepped out to have a smoke when it exploded. He was thrown hard against a car parked on the other side, and he has swelling on the brain. They put him into a medically induced coma after they removed a flap of his skull in the hope that not too much damage would occur. It’s a waiting game for him. Gio was here, but he was checked over and then he discharged himself against doctors’ orders. He has a few cuts and bruises and a possible concussion as well, but he wouldn’t stay. He said he needed to make sure that whoever was responsible for this attempt at a hostile takeover could see it failed. He’s in charge now, and he needs to be seen throwing his weight around.”
Holy shit, my brother is the mob boss. I’m so numb from everything, I can’t even react.
Sage goes on. “Both Lorenzo and Penelope had a few scrapes and cuts that needed seeing to, but they were told to go home. Gio assigned round the clock protection on both you and Mickey, and of course I wouldn’t leave you alone.”
He’s quiet as I try to wrap my head around everything. “What happened? What do you mean hostile takeover?” I ask him, still confused.
Sage does a double take, and when he meets my eyes, his are full of sympathy. “Tori, honey, someone planted a bomb under the limo, and Gio and I think it was meant for all of you. We believe it should have gone off when you were all in it, but it malfunctioned. This was most definitely an attempt to get rid of the Russo family line.”
A bomb? Someone killed my dad and Carla so they could take over our business. The cold fury that has been my constant companion since Stacey’s betrayal washes over me, and I yank the needle out of my arm and push Sage out of the way. “Where are my clothes?” I ask when I realize I’m wearing a hospital gown.
He shakes his head, and I know he’s going to argue with me.
“Don’t, Sage. Just hand me some fucking clothes. I need to be with Gio. We need to work out who did this, and then I will rain hell down on them.” I look at my henchmen. “Where is my gun?” They exchange a glance.
“Mr. Russo told us not to give you one,” Dean stammers, not meeting my eyes.
I gasp, and Sage grabs my hand.
“They mean Gio. He’s Mr. Russo now.” Of course he is. I’m such an idiot. I drop my chin to my chest and breathe for a moment or two. The tears threaten to surface, but I let the anger, fury, and need for vengeance wash away the sadness. Steeling myself, I take a deep breath, and when I look up, I’m no longer Mafia Princess, but Azrael, the Angel of Death. Heaven help those who have done this, because I will wash the streets with their blood when I find those responsible.
* * *
The last poignant notes of “Hallelujah”float away on the breeze as the singer steps back and the priest moves forward to deliver his sermon. I don’t hear a word of it as I study the large gathering, trying to work out if anyone here could possibly be responsible for my aunt’s and father’s deaths. One by one, I study family friends, business associates, and strangers, all here to pay their respects to the Russo family and their late boss, Stefano. I see a lot of the casino workers here as well saying goodbye to Carla. When they heard that Mickey was in the hospital and not able to attend, they came in his stead as a show of respect to a woman they all respected and admired. Which one of these solemn people is a liar? Which one has perfected their grief mask but is secretly laughing behind it?
It’s not until the mourners start throwing roses onto the coffins as they lower into the ground that I realize it’s all over and I have missed everything that’s happened. Penelope and Lorenzo are the last to throw their flowers before it is my and Gio’s turn. Sage offers me a hand to stand, but I shake my head slightly and he drops it. I need to be seen as strong. I can’t let anyone think there is any weakness to me. On the other hand, however, they are welcome to underestimate me, because my trigger finger is itchy and my thirst for revenge is fierce.
Finally, Gio and I are left alone. Sage steps away to give us a moment, and I can see various members of our organization staked out around the area, giving us a circle of protection when we are at our most vulnerable. Neither of us will outwardly show our grief. We will save that for the privacy of our own home. Here today, we stand strong and united, even though there is a bigger wedge than ever between us. I outright asked him if this had anything to do with where he goes, and he vehemently denied it. He swore on the family name that it didn’t, so I let it go, but it hurt that he won’t tell me. That he doesn’t trust me with whatever it is.
I release my rose, the thornless stem slipping out of my hand and into the large hole, landing on top of all the other white roses on the coffin. My and Gio’s blood-red roses stand out on top, and as I go around to do the same to Carla’s, it reminds me of Ed’s first droplet of blood on the white tiles of the interrogation room. That feels like so many years ago now.
It’s funny how blood has become an integral part of my life. Family first and always is what Dad taught us, and Gio and I are now the last remaining members of our family. Sure, there are a few second cousins and Lorenzo, but he is not to be trusted. I have never trusted him, and it got even worse after the whole incident with the Kitty Cat Club. If I could take the escorts away from him, I would, but Dad told me to bide my time. If he didn’t have the escorts, he would be free to stick his nose in places Dad really didn’t want him to.
I asked Gio about that tattoo of Dad’s he promised to tell me about and never had.Cruor, Veneratio, Virtus. Blood, Honor, Valor. It’s the Russo family motto and what every person brought into the organization has tattooed on them. A couple of days ago, Gio organized for the Russo family tattoo artist to come and tattoo it on me. I chose to put it across the left side of my ribs under my heart. I had him add a stylized drop of blood to the tattoo as well. Blood over everything. Gio had him add the same thing to his tattoo, and whenever someone swore their loyalty to him, we had them all add the drop of blood to their own tattoos as well.
Funnily enough, Lorenzo didn’t have a tattoo. I asked Gio about it, and he said that blood family members were not required to get the tattoo, but most did as a sign of respect. Lorenzo didn’t as a bigfuck youto his father when he wouldn’t legitimize him. Once he was dead and Dad offered it to him, he said he didn’t want it and never would despite being loyal to the family. Sounds shady to me, but for now, we let it slide.
We say our final goodbyes, turn our backs, and walk away. My hand that isn’t in my brother’s clenches, the only outward display of anger that I show as I catch sight of the people waiting for us.
Not willing to let us mourn in peace, Penelope taps her foot. “Well, it’s about time. The lawyer is waiting to read Stefano’s will back at the fortress.”
I try to yank my hand out of Gio’s and reach for my ever-present gun, but he holds on tight.
