Gaia
Gabe, Charles and I sat in the large living room Gabe was still out of it, his leg now treated and bandaged. My mother was still nowhere to be seen, nor was my grandfather. This was what they called the waiting game. I’d made the call, and Arthur had said he’d come, that I should hang in there and wait it out.
At the sound of tires on gravel, Charles smiled. “So, he does give a shit about you after all.”
My heart thudded in my chest. In a few minutes, he’d walk in here, and I had no idea what to expect.
Arthur walked into the door alone. He unbuttoned his coat and without being asked, took a seat at the table my father was sitting at. Arthur didn’t so much as glance my way.
I hated him at that moment. He’d started all this, and now Gabe was hurt. I looked at my brother, tears threatening to spill from my eyes at my utter stupidity.
“What do you want, Russo?” Arthur’s voice was proud, and he didn’t even look intimidated by all the men that stood guard around the room.
“My brother's release,” Charles said.
“And what will you give me for it?” Arthur’s voice gave nothing away.
“I’ll let her live for one thing.”
“Your brother is dead,” Arthur said coldly. “Like you, he made threats he could not carry through, so I killed him. Your nephew is fine though, back home in Italy with his mama. You might live, too, if you just do as you’re told.”
Charles' face was ashen as he stared between Arthur and us.
“Why haven’t you killed them yet, Russo?” His question shocked me. “You hurt the boy, yes, but why have you not killed them?”
“Because I, I need needed her to get you here.” Charles stuttered.
“That isn’t the only reason, is it?”
Charles pulled out his gun at the same time Arthur did. The face-off lasted mere seconds before my grandfather walked in, glaring at the two men. Arthur just smiled at my grandfather.
“Put those guns away. You boys are always so reactive.”
Surprisingly, Arthur put his back into the holster, and Charles set his gun nervously on the table.
“Castello,” Arthur said, almost as if he were greeting an old friend I had no idea who he was talking to. “Long time, Uncle.”
The way he said that though, it did not sound genuine. I’d come to know his mannerisms over our time together, and that was sarcasm.
“You’re looking well, Arthur. Every bit the image of your father.”
At the mention of his father, the vein in Arthur’s neck pulsed, a clear indication that he was angry, ticked. I looked over at Gabe who was leaning his head against the couch sleeping.
The air felt charged like something was about to happen, yet none of the parties sitting or standing in here knew what or when.
“You kidnapped my children.” My grandfather said, and I frowned. What the hell was he talking about?
“Before I knew they were yours.” Arthur defended.
“And you shot my son,” he said as he looked at Charles.
“Oh my God, what the hell is going on?” I shouted. It hit me then that he was talking about Gabe and me. Our grandfather was actually our father? Not Charles Russo? This was madness.
‘Quiet, Gaia Let the adults speak.” My grandfather ordered.
Adults? What the fuck was I? A toddler? Despite my irritation, I remained quiet.
“Now let us all sit down and agree on what to do about this mess.”
As my grandfather limped to the table, I noticed Arthur’s jaw stiffen. He did not want to sit at the same table as my grandfather. When Arthur looked at me, I realized that he wanted nothing more than to kill him.
