When I turn towards Vincenzo’s door in the narrow, fluorescent hallway, I’m greeted by the monitors beeping, a machine whirling, and Vincenzo’s chest moving inorganically up and down as he lies there motionless.
It puts a smile on my face, momentarily erasing my uneasiness regarding Sofia.
The number of times I’ve wished for something like this to happen—though I wished for Marco’s death more—I nearly need to pinch myself. He’s been in a coma for weeks now, when I’d assumed he’d wake up the day after the wedding, perfectly healthy. But as more and more time goes on, the odds of him waking up and especially waking up healthy are diminishing.
I spent far too many years growing up jealous of him. Jealous of how Marco gave him all the positive attention. Jealous of the fact that he could go to school and live a more normal life than I, Marco spared my sister that trauma at least.
Both Vincenzo and I were too young to understand why Marco was acting the way he did. Vincenzo was the golden child because his father was Marco’s late best friend, and I was some orphan he felt the need to pick up to appease Elena. Vincenzo’s self-esteem became unnaturally high while mine diminished to trash until I finally grew up and took control of my life.
And now I can simply pull the plug.
Stick him with something lethal in those veiny arms and push the plunger down.
But I enjoy seeing him like this too much, and it seems needlessly risky to kill him when he could die naturally.
A set of footsteps echoes behind me until I sense someone else in the room with me. I wince, hoping it’s not Marco; instead, I find Elio.
I’m assuming he comes down here nearly as frequently as Marco, since they are such close friends.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asks. It’s an odd situation. Aside from very basic business-related conversations, I feel like I’ve never had the opportunity to talk to Elio without Vincenzo right next to him.
I glance over at Vincenzo’s pale, nearly lifeless body and open my mouth to lie to Elio to get on his good-side.
“You can tell the truth, Alessandro.”
His candidness surprises me as he leans against the cement hospital-room wall, arms crossed at his chest as he looks despondently at my adoptive brother.
“You know how I feel about him. I wasn’t exactly sad when I heard the news that he got shot. How are you holding up?” I decide to ask that last question to remain as civil as possible. If I end up killing Marco, having him on my side will help tremendously.
He raises his eyebrows in surprise at my politeness, then sighs. “I feel like I’ve already mourned him, but I try to stop myself in case he wakes up. This in-between shit isn’t natural. Not for him. Not for his family and friends.”
I turn my attention back to Vincenzo, unsure of what to say. Elio and I have exchanged few words in our lives.
“Sal talked to me about the conversation you had with him, Gio, and Dante.”
I raise my eyebrows at how Sal talked about this behind my back, though I’m not surprised. And he might have been trying to help.
“And what are your thoughts on all of that?”
Elio takes a few steps out to check the hallway and then closes the door behind him. “I’m ready for a change in leadership. Marco…” His breath hitches and his eyes dart towards the corner of the room, avoiding my gaze and looking troubled. “Marco behaved inappropriately with my wife several months ago, and I’ve lost all respect for him ever since.”
His hands are clenched at his sides, and it looks like he’s holding back. Something tells me ‘behaved inappropriately’ is underselling whatever went down with Marco and Aurora. Elio took a younger wife: blonde, beautiful, and friendly—but shy. I just realized that I haven’t seen her in a long time, and I’m sure that he’s kept her from the castle as often as possible because of this.
My mind flips to Sofia, and I wonder if I’m doing enough to keep her safe in this hellish place.
“So if something were to happen to him, I can trust you and your soldiers won’t retaliate?”
“No,” he answers.
“Are you interested in being in charge?”
He sighs. “Not now. I’m not even forty yet; I don’t have children. It’s too risky, but maybe in a couple of decades I’ll have an interest depending on the situation.”
All of those reasons apply to me as well, I realize. But it doesn’t give me any second thoughts—I want this.
“That’s when you’ll murder me and then take power,” I snort.
“Something like that.” He laughs and then nods towards Vincenzo. “If he weren’t in this condition, you know I’d be standing behind him. The problem is, Vincenzo would never…”
