The gunfire has stopped now, I notice.
“Come on,” I tell her. “We have to get back. Your father will be looking for me.”
I lead her by the hand, heading back toward the chapel. But then she stops, tugging at my arm.
“There has to be another way,” she tells me. “There has to.”
“I can’t leave my brothers,” I tell her. “Just as I couldn’t leave you. I’m sorry, Angela. I wish there was another way. But there isn’t. I have to face your father.”
She sets her lips in a stubborn line.
“Then you’ll face him with me at your side!” she growls. She quickens her pace to walk beside me. She’s wearing a look that tells me when she sees her father, there’s going to be hell to pay.
I grin. This is why I love her.
We return hand-in-hand to the open-air chapel and pass between the columns until we’re standing near the altar. The body of The Cleaver lies next to it above a pool of blood.
I stop when I see Giovanni and his men approaching. I let go of Angela’s hand, but she thrusts her palm through the crook of my arm instead and pulls herself close to me, just so that everyone’s aware I belong to her.
That’s my girl.
Behind Giovani, the field is strewn with the bodies of the Rizzo family and their associates: basically everyone who didn’t escape in time is wiped out, down to the cooks and maids. Some are hanging half out of the castle windows, others have fallen in the doorways. It’s a slaughter.
There are likely a lot of fallen Amato men in the field as well, though I’m unable to pick any out.
I spot my brothers and my men in Giovanni’s retinue. They’re surrounded by Amato associates, and seem to be disarmed. Salvatore and Leonardo lead the group, along with Michelangelo. I notice they’re trying to carry their weapons inconspicuously, no doubt out of deference to Angela.
When Giovanni arrives he breaks from his men to approach. Angela’s brothers step forward to stand at his side. Rifles hang from their shoulders, but they slide them behind their backs so Angela won’t have to look at them.
“I guess my plan worked,” I tell Salvatore.
He nods. “You fought well. I’m almost sorry it has to be this way. Your weapon, please.”
Not breaking from Angela, I reach behind my back and fetch the pistol from my jeans, handing it to Salvatore. I feel Angela tense up beside me when she sees the weapon, but she relaxes again when Salvatore tucks it away behind his back.
Giovanni furrows his brow, and steps past the altar to gaze at The Cleaver’s body.
“Is this…” He kicks the facedown body, turning it over with a boot. Then he nods, seeming pleased with my handiwork.
“Your doing?” he asks me.
“Yes,” I tell him.
Giovanni purses his lips. “I’m only disappointed The Cleaver had an easy death. I would’ve liked to draw it out.”
I meet his gaze. “Can’t disagree there.”
He studies me. “I must confess I’m impressed with the destruction you Morettis helped us unleash upon the Rizzo family. With your aid, we’ve taken out our greatest rival.”
I don’t reply. What the fuck does he want me to say? It was an honor helping the man who tried to kill me?
“But,” he continues. “At the end of the day, you did kidnap my daughter. An act beyond redemption." He glances at his daughter. “Angela, take your pendant back.”
I feel her grip tighten on my arm. “No. I gave it to him, and I want him to keep it.”
Giovanni shrugs. “Fine. Take it from his dead body then.” He gives Salvatore a sour glance. “Kill the brothers and their men. Starting with Massimo.”
Salvatore advances, but before he can produce a weapon, Angela hauls me back and steps in front of me.
