OnceNel Cielowas secured after the battle, though, Ita’s body wasn’t to be found. Someone had left her parents, but not her to rot in our soil. There was no way of proving Francesco was the father, then. His faction didn’t want anyone to know. If word got out that he had gotten her pregnant, convinced her to make Rocco pay for breaking her heart to begin with…thefamigliawould side with our faction.
As it was, some of the family had sided with Francesco’s line by default because they believed the rumor that Rocco had Rosaria killed to marry me without issue. Rocco had told me this supposed issue had been hashed out in the meeting before the battle had begun, but the truth hadn’t fully made it into a family that thrived on it. That had built a legacy on it.
I believed this was because the truth was only useful when it came to gain. Meaning, if the truth helped the family who craved to rule, it was the most important thing a man could have. However, if the truth went against what they wanted, a shot at wearing the crown…walls were built around it, and blinders were put on.
The worst part of this entire scene?
My husband had left me behind.
My eyes scanned the property.
Scarlett’s husband had left her behind.
Next to her, Mia.
Her husband had left her behind with their three small children, another one on the way.
Juliette walked the property.
Her husband had left her behind.
Carmen stared out the kitchen window, because it was her turn to prepare meals.
Her husband had left her behind.
Mari was walking toward Scarlett, her arms crossed.
Same for her. She’d been left behind.
Evelina was safe somewhere else, where, from her spot, she was able to aid the men in battle.
Countless of other women, Thandie included, were on the property, waiting…waiting for their men to return. Our heartbeats were replaced by the sound of handsticking on a clock.
A long sigh full of turmoil rose from my chest and slid out of my mouth when my eyes landed on Ermanno and Uncle Tito. Uncle Tito stayed close to Ermanno. Maybe because Ermanno wasn’t talking as much as he used to. The battle had taken him from a Shorty to…a man. It hurt my heart to see it.
Ermanno had gotten to Azzurra in time. She had been knocked unconscious by woodland debris that had flown when an explosion had gone off. As Ermanno picked her up to carry her to safety, another explosion rocked him on his feet, and he said all he remembered was running to the SUVs waiting to tear away fromNel Cieloand to safety. Even though the safe zone was close to our property, it was only known to a few people who Rocco felt he could trust. The land wasn’t even under Rocco’s name.
After Azzurra had been placed in a waiting SUV, the soldier who had been waiting forced Ermanno inside with her. Ermanno had tried to come back for me. Except…he had a piece of wood sticking out of his left eye. The eye had too much nerve damage and couldn’t be saved. He refused to speak after that. Even with Azzurra and her family being held on the property. Ermanno ignored her at all costs. No one exactly knew why, butUncle Tito spoke to him every day as he explored the property alone. Uncle Tito refused to allow him alone time.
Massimo limped toward where Ermanno and Uncle Tito were. He was quiet himself. He’d taken a bullet to the leg that caused lingering issues. The only proof of the other entrance wounds were superficial—scars that would always remind the people around him of the love and honor he carried inside of him for those he cared about.
For me.
It felt odd to call Massimo my son, because we were closer in age than me and Rocco, but Massimo was Rocco’s son, and no matter what age I was, Rocco was my husband. Massimo shared the same blood as the baby in my womb. For so many reasons, I love Massimo like he’s mine, whichever familial title that comes with. He was a good man with a great heart and even greater loyalty to his father.
When the doctor had said Massimo was going to make it, Rocco fell into a chair, holding his head in his hands, and cried. I cried too, because for a time, it was touch and go with him. Chloe’s mamma had even called after Rocco called Chloe. He thought, maybe, Chloe would find it in her heart to come to Massimo and, in Rocco’s words, give him the strength to hold on.
It wasn’t Chloe beside his bed; it was Alessandra Ponte.
Chloe claimed she couldn’t lose Massimo, not in such a final way as death, but she did agree to speak to me. It was going to be harder to find a way, since we were at war, not only within the family, but with outside forces. Rocco said he would find a way, though, even if it meant escorting Chloe himself to wherever I was.
I turned my face away from the high, blood-orange Sicilian sun that seemed to color even the soil orange, and to the chilled shaded areas the olive trees made. I wrapped the cardigantighter around myself, my stomach noticeably swollen, even if it was a small bulge. Maggie Beautiful had tried to make a joke by asking me why I was smuggling papayas underneath my shirt, since I’d been keeping month to month progress on what happens in that month.
I had reached my second trimester and, as far as that was concerned, could breathe much easier. I hadn’t gotten sick one day, and even though Dr. Ponte said that could be normal, I had almost been begging for nausea. I had desperately craved something to prove that I was pregnant other than a blood test. Dr. Ponte had enough equipment to start a small L&D hospital, and every so often, she’d give me an ultrasound.
Seeing her on the screen made it extremely real, and as the little papaya danced in my stomach, my heart eased—the only time it did.
My husband had left me to fight a war. The only communication we had was through letters that would come through by boat. Occasionally, the men would turn up for surprise visits. Some of them would be injured, some just needed their woman’s touch.
