Page 71 of Tempting My Mafia Monster

“Oh, mi scusi, Signorina Buccini. I didn’t see you there,” the nurse startled, jumping when she noticed my presence in the doorway. I couldn’t remember her name. She’d started working for us a week before I was taken. I’d been so against Mamma having help from an outsider, but it was the right call. “Can I help you with anything?”

I shook my head and stepped into the bedroom. She gave me an uncertain smile but retreated toward her room.

“If you or Signora Buccini need anything, just press that buzzer, and I’ll come.”

A nod was all I could manage. Once we were alone, I edged closer to Mamma’s frail body in her massive bed. She looked so small, child-like even. This woman had seemed so mighty and larger than life to me as a child, intimidating at times. But now I could see her for who she truly was. A brave woman who had lived through epic loves and enormous losses. For the first time in my life, I truly understood her and felt we had something in common.

I picked up her hairbrush and gently combed what I could reach. She was drifting back to sleep as I carefully climbed into her bed and watched her. Silent tears slid down my cheeks. Was it possible to run out of tears? If so, I must be close.

I hadn’t spoken to my family, not because I couldn’t, but because it was too hard. Where would I even begin? I knew they had many questions, but they wouldn’t understand the answers. None of them would. And I didn’t know what to say to Santino. I didn’t want him to know the pain he’d caused me.

But I needed to say Maddox’s name aloud. I needed to tell someone everything about him before I drove myself crazy and believed it was all a dream.

“Mamma,” I whispered, my voice scratchy and thick from a week of silence. “It’s Soraya.”

She frowned in her sleep. Then her eyes fluttered. I took that as a sign to continue.

“Can I read you something?” I opened Maddox’s poem and wiped my eyes with one hand, though it was pointless. The tears wouldn’t stop. “You and Papi loved reading poetry together.” I took a shaky breath.

“She doesn’t know he was once a boy,

who dreamed big and collected vintage toy cars.

Who couldn’t sleep each night without his mam’s kiss.

Who was stolen from a life he loved.

A boy who prayed for an angel to come and take him away.

But the darkness grows darker as the years drag on.

Each heartbeat a reminder. No one is comin’.

Survival is the only key.”

I stopped to steady myself as my voice shook with the heart-wrenching words, then forced myself to continue.

“She doesn’t know the way he breaks.

The cold seeps in. The nights fall still.

His hands bound, his bones ache.

Silence becomes his only friend.

In silence, there is no more pain, no more screamin’.

The world forgets the boy who collected vintage cars.

But at the bottom of a damp well,

He still longs for a warm hug.

Only his father’s corpse stares back.

No longer the hero he adored.

Rotting in filth like an animal.