Yes, child, you did.
IT TOOK MERE SECONDSfor Giancarlo to realize he couldn't let things end this way between Sarica and him. Making her feel she had to earn his love was the last thing he wanted. He needed Sarica to understand that she was wrong. He loved her. Would always love her. But she also had to understand...it was because of how much he loved her and hisfamigliathat he had to let all of them go.
Finding no sign of her outside the VIP room was already to be expected. Their first fight in Cayed, and later on, how she had defended herself in the airport, had forced Giancarlo to accept that she was no longer the helpless girl who once needed his protection. She was strong now—-and that was yet another reason she no longer needed an imperfect being like him.
Once he was out of the club, Giancarlo only had seconds to scan the streets before a group of hired muscles blocked his way—-and not a single onlooker cared to interfere as they immediately hauled Giancarlo to a nearby alley.
This was New York, after all.
And one thing everyone did exceptionally well here was minding their own business.
The men shoved Giancarlo down on his knees, but he made no move to resist or flee. A part of him was already wondering if God would still allow him in Heaven...if he chose not to fight back.
The first punch caught Giancarlo in the jaw, but he remained silent, his stoic facade unbreakable. They dragged him to his feet, a pair of men holding him back by the arms while another fist pounded his ribs. But the pain remained negligible. Was it because he was ready to die?
From just a block away, the night rang with the usual noise of revelry. The heart-thumping beats of whatever song it was that the DJ in Dauphin Tueur club's was spinning. The drunken cheers mingling with laughter. The roar of powerful car engines speeding past.
But despite world doing its best to drown Giancarlo in its mind-numbing cacophony, a quiet voice inside of his head was still clearly audible, and His every word underscored by sadness.
Why are you throwing your life away?
His Son was sad. For him.
Does My death on the cross mean that little to you?
Giancarlo's eyes squeezed shut. It meant everything.Everything.But how could he still live, knowing that he would be a burden to the people he loved?
I didn't die for You to replace me as someone else's savior.
I died to save you.
I died in order for you to live.
Giancarlo's powerful body began to shake, and his attackers laughed. They all thought fear had finally overcome him, but on this they could not be more wrong. For it was understanding that crashed through Giancarlo like a tidal wave.
When you are weak, you are strong.
Because of Me.
Remember?
What Sarica andLa Stregahad been trying to tell him—-but what Giancarlo had been too lost in his own self-pity to comprehend—-suddenly became blindingly clear.
Fear had made Giancarlo see himself in one of his father's men, a man whose limp had prevented him from protecting his master.
Just as Giancarlo's injury had kept him from reaching Sarica in time.
Self-pity and stupid pride had made Giancarlo see his injury as a physical weakness.
But what it truly exposed was the weakness of his faith.
Giancarlo had thought himself strong because of his own abilities.
But such strength had limits and imperfections.
Human strength failed and expired...while God's strength was infallible and infinite.
Giancarlo had forgotten that with Him by his side, he had more than enough, and there was nothing for him to fear.
