“We have to do something!” My sister was crying now. “How can you be so callous?”
There was no point protecting her. She needed to know the truth—most of the truth. “Because he used to smack me around too.”
Silence trickled through the phone.
“He’s mean, sis.” That mean streak only got worse after he discovered my darkest sin. But I wasn’t going to tell her that.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Carmela choked. “We could have stopped him. We could have gone to the don—”
“Ella,” I cut her off, knowing where this spiral would go. “Papa told me that if I went to his boss, he’d shoot Mama. Then he’d shoot me.”
Did she believe me? Was another human finally capable of seeing the hell we’d lived in blissful ignorance of?
My voice turned into a whisper. “The worst part? Mama will deny it if you confront her. She’ll tell you not to make false accusations against your father. She’ll say he didn’t touch her, even after you say that black eye isn’t from a fall.”
“Gabby,” Carmela sobbed. “What am I going to do?”
Poison him.
The breathy laughter wasn’t quiet enough.
“This isn’t funny!” my sister raged.
“It’s not,” I rushed to agree. “But we’re women trapped by the traditions of the mafia, Ella. There’s not much we can do.”
“O, Madonna santa,” Carmela wheezed. “All this time? You should have told me.”
And watched him take his wrath out on another victim?“I’m glad you know. But don’t tell the others!”
“Can you come over?” she insisted. “I’m working the lunch shift, but I could really use a hug. The others will know if I go out there and hug them.”
I tapped my thigh. The rumble in my stomach decided for me. “I could do that. Let me get dressed, and I’ll be there in about an hour. Keep it together that long?”
“Okay,” Carmela murmured. “Gabby?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
Me too.
***
My fourteen-year-old sister was examining her sunny yellow manicure when I pushed through the front door with eight guards in tow. Sophia looked up, squeaked, and rushed to give me a hug.
“I haven’t seen you since the wedding,” she gushed, squeezing me tight. “Mama said you’d stopped over, but I’ve been picking up extra shifts since I won’t be able to work weekdays once school starts.”
“I’ve missed you too.” I had. Her pert nose, silly obsessions with pop music, and the way she jabbered to tell the simplest of stories. “Find a table for my friends, will you?”
Sophia peeked around my arm. She let out a soft, innocent gasp. I knew how the guards looked. Dressed to the nines,bristling with danger, weapons concealed under their suit jackets—any fourteen-year-old would swoon.
Speaking over her head, I addressed Sean. “Order some lunch. I’m going to find my sister.”
“Giana is working section four,” Sophia supplied helpfully, disentangling herself from me and fumbling to grab menus. “And Ella is around here somewhere. She’s acting weird. Probably got her period or something.”
I groaned. This teen had no filter.
Ruffling her head as I passed, and secretly enjoying her yelp, I went to the back of the house. “Hi, Sully. Have you seen Ella?”
