“Vittoria’s in the SUV with them.”
I’m going to be sick. I’m ready to hyperventilate. Of course, I fear for all their lives. They’re on a mission, but knowing bothmy parents and the woman I love could die together makes my ears ring and the blood pound in my temples. My gaze hops from Jorge to Joaquin to Javier. They only have one parent left. I look at Pablo, who’s already lost a brother and could lose both of his parents.
This is a fucking disaster of epic proportions.
“Where’s my wife?” Jorge, Javier, and Pablo ask together.
“Luis and I are staying behind with them. They’re at my house.”
TíoEnrique’s comment does nothing to reassure me. Only Anneliese isn’t a sharpshooter, but Jorge’s been teaching her. She’s fucking close. Madeline and Florencia have killed before. None of them would flinch before pulling the trigger. It’s only a tiny mercy that they aren’t on the way to the airport too.
“I need to talk toPapá.”
“Alejo, that isn’t wise. There’s no wayTíaCatalina won’t listen too.” Pablo warns me, but I don’t care.
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Sobrino—”
“No! I’m not losing everyone I love. I’ve almost lost Vita too many times since meeting her.Papá’scome close to dying more times than I can count. You knowMamá’sthe most ruthless of all your siblings.”
My mother is the kindest, funniest woman you’ll ever meet, but cross her… Or worse, cross our family—her husband and child…
“We need to go home.”
“Alejo, you need to finish things with the Torettas. How’d things go in Calabria?”
“Tío, changing the subject doesn’t change any of our minds.”
“You will finish the job.”
I grit my teeth, and my nostrils flare. Once again, my expression matches my cousins’.
“Sí, jefe.”
All of us respond the same way. That wasn’t ourtíomaking a request. That was our boss giving a command.
“How did things go?”
“The same as in Naples. They agreed eventually.”
“Give them the reminder, then go to Palermo.”
“But that’ll delay our return by at least two days.”
“Then so be it.”
My cousins close their eyes, and I do the same. We count to ten before we open them. The habit ingrained in us as children when we learned to contain our frustration when things didn’t go our way. At three, none of us knew we were already in training.
“Sí, jefe.” I answer on everyone’s behalf.
“I’ll be in touch when we land, Alejo. I’ll keep you posted.”
TíaElle’s tone is as unbendable asTío’s, but it’s quieter. I believe and trust her, but I’m still panicking.
“Gracias, tía.”
The call ends, and the five of us sit in silence, digesting what we just heard. Syndicate business isn’t supposed to touch the women in our families. They’re to be revered, placed on a pedestal and protected. They’re to keep their hands clean. They’re untouchable.
