1
Carmine
The darkest night of the year in the northern hemisphere is December twenty-first. The chill has long since set into the air by then, and the Christmas decorations are strung up all around town, but it is the winter solstice that truly tells us winter has arrived and it’s here to stay for several more months.
Month after fucking month of glittering tinsel and twinkling lights that glare into my eyes night after night until I have a headache that won’t go away until they do. Maybe not even then.
Just another year of listening to the laughter of children, children who have no idea how truly harsh the world is, and what may be left for them by the time they grow up. Another smile faked, another present that no one really wants. Everyone continues to pretend, even here, in this house of poison and greed, that they truly care about the holidays.
This night, though, I can hardly stand to watch another one of my brothers straighten a stocking on the mantle of the family room.
“Come on, Carmine, you have to hang your stocking or La Befana will get you!” Tommaso, my middle brother and general pain in my ass, teases me from across the room.
“Let the old hag try,” I snip back at him. I suck down the rest of a glass of bourbon before shoving it at his chest as he steps closer to me. “I’m not in the mood, Tommy.”
“Oh, fuck you, you’re never in the mood,” he curses at me, brow furrowed, eyes lit with a fire that rarely isn’t there. He’s always trying to stir up a fight. He practically lives for it.
I roll my eyes and turn away from him.
“I’m not your maid, dickhead.” Glass shatters on the wall in front of me just to the right of my head. My shoulders tense for just a second or two, and my blood runs cold. Not boiling hot like his.
“Mother bought those glasses,” I tell him, voice low. A warning. I don’t turn to look at him, because I’m certain if I do I won’t be able to stop myself from throwing him across the room.
“Your mother, not mine,” he hisses like it’s some major dig.
I turn around on my heel and lurch forward at him, grabbing him by the collar of his ugly polo shirt. “Tell me, Tommy, do you wish we weren’t brothers at all? Cause I can make that happen.”
Tommy squirms against my hold and grabs my arms at the wrists. “I can make it happen faster, Carmie, ya self-righteous little bitch,” he growls.
I growl back at him, but it comes from much deeper in my chest. I stare into his eyes like a viper preparing to strike. Every bone in my body screams at me to finally teach him the lesson he needs to be taught. That he can’t mess with whoever he wants to and get away unscathed.
“You really want to do this?” I ask him quietly. My face doesn’t crinkle and crumple under the weight of my anger like his does. I can see the reflection of my eyes in his, and they’relike ice. “I’ll come out of it with some scratches, little brother, you’ll be missing your head.”
Tommy’s eyes widen and though I see how badly he wants to continue, he lets go of my arms and shoves himself away from me. I let go of his shirt, allowing him to put distance between us.
“Are you two idiots done measuring your cocks?” Tiberi asks us from his place on the sofa across the room. I glance over at him. He’s holding a book on his lap, pages kept open with his fingers, and an eyebrow raised in annoyance.
“Mind your business,” I quip. I watch him go back to reading. I look to Tommaso. “Clean up your mess before father?—”
Gunshots explode through the air. Despite the sound being muffled by the walls of the large house, I can still hear the crack and pop of a bullets being fired nearby. While Tiberi’s first instinct is to drop his book and make his way to the gun safe where more powerful weapons are locked up, I immediately bolt out of the room and down the hallway. I have no idea what Tommy is doing, if he’s following behind me or not, and I don’t care. They were in the room so I know they’re safe. It's everyone else that’s unaccounted for.
I have my pistol pulled out from my belt line so fast that I don’t process it until it’s in my hand, the safety off, and pointed in front of me.
“What the fuck is going on?” I shout, not caring if whoever is here hears me. They have to know I heard them.
As I rush toward the door to my father’s office, a guard by the name of Lukas is rushing over as well. “Where the fuck were you? You’re supposed to be watching the door?” Grab him by the shoulder and shove him out of the way of the partially open door.
“Shit, fuck. I was—I I was taking a fucking piss, Cassian said he’d cover me,” Lukas insists. I kick the door open the rest ofthe way and a gun shot ricochets off the door frame and past my head.
I look around the room and lock my eyes on the first form that I know doesn’t belong. My eyes aren’t the only thing locked on them. I shoot twice and hear a huff of pain.
“Carmine!” Cassian’s panicked voice breaks through the noise and distracts me.
Blood is everywhere and pain shoots through my left arm. I ignore the pain and drop to my knees on the floor. Lukas is behind me, scrambling like a fool.
“I’ll call an ambulance!”
“No!” I drop to my knees on the floor. A crumpled pile of a man lays on the floor with blood seeping from his head, his face, his chest…
