“You wouldn’t have believed her,” I say bitterly.
“No, I wouldn’t have.” He coughs again. “The girl. I never wanted her. Never trusted her. But she saved this family. She’s smarter than I gave her credit for. Smarter than half my capos.”
Hearing him finally acknowledge Lucy and what she’s capable of makes my body unclench.
“She’s everything,” I tell him.
“The way you killed for her today. That’s not a brother’s love. That’s the love of a man for his woman.”
“I have loved her for a long time.”
Dad closes his eyes. “I chose power. I married your mother for an alliance. We have always respected and honored each other. But you chose love, and I thought that made you weak. Today I watched you stand in that church with a gun in your hand, ready to die for her. That’s not weakness.”
“Lucy only makes me stronger,” I say fiercely.
“Listen to me.” His hand reaches out, grabs my wrist with surprising strength. “The Sokolis won’t forgive this. Lucy exposed their spy and humiliated them. They’ll want revenge.”
“I’ll protect her.”
“You’re the don now,” he rasps. “The family will be yours. The business. The territory. All of it.”
The weight of those words settles on my shoulders.
“No one’s ever ready for this, but don’t make my mistakes, Damiano.” He looks at me with something that might be regret. “I never knew you. Never really saw you. The girl loves you. Don’t waste that.” His breathing is becoming more labored, the beeps on the monitor speeding up then slowing down. “Protect the family. Your mother and sister. Lucy. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
His hand releases my wrist and falls to the bed. His eyes are starting to close. The monitor’s beeping grows erratic. I should call for the surgeon. I should do something.
Dad speaks so quietly that I have to lean close to hear him. “You were a good son,” he whispers. “Better than I deserved.”
The monitor flatlines. The long, steady beep fills the room.
I stand there, staring at the body of the man who taught me to lead. The man who never showed me love.
He’s gone.
And I’m the don now.
I step back as the nurses and a doctor rush in. I stand at Dad’s bedside for another moment, looking at his face. In death, he looks peaceful.
I then turn and walk out of the ICU.
Lucy is waiting in the hallway, her face pale with worry. As soon as she sees me, she knows.
“He’s gone,” I tell her.
She wraps her arms around me, and I hold her tight. Over her shoulder, I can see Mom and Ariana in the waiting room. I have to tell them and face what comes next.
I take Lucy’s hand and walk into the waiting room. Mom looks up at me, her face streaked with tears. She already knows. She can see it in my face.
“No,” she whispers. “Please, no.”
“He’s gone, Mom. I’m sorry.”
She lets out a long, anguished wail and slumps to her knees. Ariana, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks, gets up and goes to Mom. She can’t make her get up off the floor, so Ariana stays down there holding her, rocking her mother back and forth.
“Twenty-seven years,” Mom sobs. “Twenty-seven years, and he’s gone. I have nothing.”
