Chapter Thirty-One

Dad hadn’t stopped me when I’d told him I needed to leave right away. Instead he gave me the Famiglia private jet and the permission to negotiate with Remo.

But I couldn’t think about peace or anything but the woman I loved who was fighting for her life.

When I arrived at the airport, Alessio was there to pick me up. I hadn’t expected an escort from the Falcones and despite my wariness I got into the car.

“How is she?” I asked immediately.

Alessio started the car and pulled away from the waiting area. “Last I heard she was stable but her injuries were pretty bad.” He shook his head. “You should talk to Remo or my father.”

I nodded. My mind was too frazzled to consider how a conversation between those two and myself might end. I didn’t care.

“Do you know who did it?” Rage tinged my voice. My mind had gone over the options. The Falcones had many enemies, but few would steep as low as to attack Greta. Definitely not the Outfit. Maybe the Russians but considering that Remo had a tentative bond to the Russian Pakhan in Chicago I couldn’t imagine it either. Another option flitted through my head but I didn’t want to dwell on it.

“Nevio and Remo are currently questioning the attacker. Whatever he knows we’ll soon know as well.”

“Good.”

We pulled up in front of a non-descript warehouse at the outskirt of Las Vegas. Faded lettering and boarded-up windows.

Alessio parked the car and got out. I followed him without hesitation. Fuck. This was enemy territory. For more than a year the Camorra and the Famiglia had been at war. Still I didn’t hesitate to follow Alessio. I would have followed him straight into hell if Greta was there. Maybe it was a trap. Considering that the Falcones knew all about my relationship with Greta, they probably couldn’t wait to dispose of me.

Alessio pressed a button beside the door and a few moments later, Nino opened the door. He looked exhausted. After a curd nod, he allowed me to enter. It felt like a nightmare, one I couldn’t wake from.

“I didn’t think we’d meet so soon. Not like this certainly.”

I nodded.

Nino motioned me to follow him. Soon I spotted Remo waiting in front of a door. “War is on hold for the time being. Greta asked for you, so of course you’re safe here,” Nino said.

I barely listened. All I could think about was Greta lying behind that door.

Remo stepped in my way and our gazes locked. “You are alive for only one reason, Greta,” he said. “You will be safe in my territory because of her and for as long as she wants it. And unlike your word at your wedding, we ‘ll honor said promise.”

“Thanks, but nothing in this world would have stopped me from coming to Vegas to see Greta. Not even the prospect of being torn apart by you crazy fuckers. I’ll go through hellfire for Greta if necessary.”

Remo gripped my shoulder, his fingers digging into my skin. His eyes burned with rage. “Good. Because you will. Nevio and I questioned the attacker and you know what he said?”

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, one I hadn’t wanted to entertain. “Cressida.” The voice was a hoarse rasp.

Remo’s lips pulled wide, not a smile, a grimace. “Indeed. Your wife.”

Fury and guilt raged inside of me. I’d truly underestimated her. For the second time in my life. “Who else was involved? What about the attacker?”

“He said he belonged to Antonaci, spewed some religious bullshit, and didn’t stop going on about the Famiglia’s traditions until Nevio made him.”

I nodded. Because Cressida couldn’t have done it without her father. He would die, and so would Cressida. So would every single fucker involved in this.

“Let me see Greta now. There’s time for talk about revenge later.”

Remo moved even closer, his face right before mine. “Greta thinks you love her.”

“I do. I love her. She’ll be my wife once Cressida is gone.”

“Divorce won’t be necessary, true.” Something in his expression shifted, pain in his eyes that stirred up my worries. He gave a nod toward Nino. I was starting to grow tired of this conversation. I just wanted to see Greta.

“You might want to know that Greta won’t be able to give birth. Her injuries were too severe.”

I froze, swallowing hard. “What?”

Remo nodded. “They didn’t go in for the kill. They stabbed her abdomen and shattered her knee. Your dear wife thought taking away the ability to bear children and to dance would break Greta and maybe make you see her as less worthy.”

“I love Greta. I’ll still love her if she can’t ever dance, even when she can’t give me children. I love her and I want to be with her. Nothing will change that, and you won’t stop me from being with her either. This time absolutely nothing will stop me.”

Remo stepped aside and pushed open the door. I walked inside and everything seemed to stand still.

Greta looked small and breakable in the hospital bed. Her lips and face were almost white, she was so pale. In two large strides, I was by her side and bent over her, cradling the back of her head and kissing her forehead. My heart throbbed in my chest, every pump as painful as a bullet shot to the heart. “Oh Greta,” I rasped. “I’m so sorry. I should have protected you. I won’t ever leave you unprotected. As long as I live, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

I kept my more violent thoughts to myself. That I would make sure everyone involved in this would die an agonizing death. After another gentle kiss to her forehead, I lifted my head to look at her face. Even now she was painstakingly beautiful. I ran my fingers through her shaggy, chin-long hair. The tips were burned. I hadn’t noticed before but she smelled like a bonfire.

I didn’t want to think about the pain she had to endure, about the absolute terror. Women should be protected in our world, kept away from harm. Maybe it was an old-fashioned view, but I simply wanted them protected. With Marcella my family had failed and now with Greta another woman I loved had suffered.

I could feel Remo’s eyes on me the entire time, but I didn’t care. I’d learned from my father that loving someone didn’t mean you were weak.

My eyes burned as if I might cry. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever cried in my life. Mom said I had on occasion when I was a little boy, but since then nothing had ever brought me close to tears. Not even when my sister had been kidnapped by our worst enemy and I’d been sure we wouldn’t see her again. Certainly not pain.

But looking down at Greta’s pale face and her bandaged hand resting on her belly, where no child of ours would ever grow—, I was on the verge of tears. I fought it and my eyes remained dry. I linked our fingers and my gaze slid down to her leg which was in splints to keep it immobilized. The cast looked massive on Greta’s slender leg. I pressed my forehead to hers. Just like I never cried, I never prayed, but now I sent a prayer up, asking that Greta would dance again. I didn’t want to consider that she lost that too.

My hand that wasn’t holding Greta’s hand curled into a tight fist. I would kill Cressida. I’d never killed a woman in my life. Looking at the woman I loved more than life itself and thinking of how I’d soon have to tell her that she would never carry a child, though she was one of the most caring and kind people I had ever met, I knew it wouldn’t be a quick end for Cressida either.

I knew why she’d told the attacker to stab Greta’s belly. She’d wanted to make sure that Greta could never bear a child, my child. Maybe she’d thought I wouldn’t want her then. She could never fathom what it meant to love someone as I loved Greta. Nothing would ever tear me away from her again.

“Where is he?” Nevio snarled somewhere outside of the room.

Remo turned and barred his son’s way. “This isn’t the time for you to lose control. Greta needs quiet to heal.”

“I want to see him!”

I kissed Greta’s fingers then I straightened and walked toward the doorway where Remo was still trying to hold his son back.

The moment Nevio’s eyes met mine, his flared with hatred.

“We can talk but not when Greta can hear us.”

Nevio leaned forward in his father’s hold, his lips curling like a dog baring its teeth. “Now you’re making the rules in Las Vegas?”

Remo pushed him back and I stepped out of the room and closed the door behind my back.

Nevio ripped away from his father and got in my face. I shoved him away, and despite my desire to do so I didn’t reach for my gun. Greta had suffered enough. No matter how much I hated the crazy fucker in front of me, she loved him.

He was a crazy ass killer and his eyes would have scared the shit out of most people.

“Where is the bitch?”

I shook my head. I knew whom he was talking about, but this was Famiglia business. I still needed to call Dad and inform him about the Antonaci and Cressida situation. Who knew what else the old bastard had planned. Maybe he and his Traditionalists were on the verge of a revolt. We’d kill every single traitorous asshole with our bare hands if necessary.

Nevio grabbed my shirt. I clamped my hand down on his and jerked him forward, bringing us face to face as my patience ran thin. “Not now. Not in front of Greta’s door.”

“Tell me where Cressida is, or I’ll kill every fucking member of the Famiglia until I find her. The bitch will die.”

“She’s mine to kill.”

Nevio shook his head. “Greta wouldn’t want that.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And you care? Come on. You want her to have a reason to stop loving me. That would be your chance.”

“You’re right. If it were up to me, you’d be dead right now. Because all of this is your fucking fault, but Greta seems to care about you for some ridiculous reason, and as long as that’s the case, I won’t act against you. With a little luck, she’ll hate you once she finds out your wife ruined her fucking life, then all bets are off.”

I gave him a harsh smile. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Nevio has a point. This is our revenge to dish out. We want your wife and everyone who was involved. If the Famiglia wants peace, you’ll deliver them to us on a fucking silver platter, or we’ll march into New York and get them ourselves, but then you can kick peace goodbye.”

Nevio opened the door to Greta’s room. For a moment his expression softened and it was such a strange thing to see on his madman face that it creeped me out more than his murderous glare. “Greta needs you. I don’t know what she fucking sees in you. Do you really want to complicate things between you only because you insist on killing the whore yourself? If one of ours had attacked your sister or mother, you and your father would have insisted on dishing out punishment yourself. When my father and Nino found out about Kiara’s past, you allowed them to dish out punishment. This is our revenge. You know Greta wouldn’t want your wife’s blood on your hands. She’d probably want the whore to live.”

I looked down at her peaceful face, knowing he was right. Even after Cressida had taken the most precious thing from Greta, she’d still not want me to kill her. Greta was too kind. A new wave of burning rage crashed down on me. Cressida should have never touched Greta. This had never been about me or her goddamn heart. She’d wanted to protect her status in the Famiglia. She’d gone too far.

Remo didn’t say anything, only walked toward Greta and kissed her forehead. “Mia cara. The world will burn for you. We’ll burn it down.”

Remo straightened and fixed me with a hard stare. “Where? We’ll find her either way. It’s up to you if we kill every soldier standing in our way, and her whole goddamn family.”

Cressida was my wife. If the Falcone’s killed a future Capo’s wife, our soldiers would demand revenge and peace would become a distant dream.

“We don’t know if her entire family was involved. Her father yes, but I doubt her mother knew.”

Nevio scoffed. “Her family is at fault. They raised her. They obviously failed. They deserve death. End of fucking story.”

“Let me call my father.” This would be a hard pill to stomach. The Falcones wanted revenge, so did I. Nothing would ever do justice to what Greta had lost.

Dad picked up after the second ring. “Amo?”

“It was Antonaci. Cressida asked him to attack Greta. Several of his men were involved.”

“Damn it!”

If I’d ever thought Greta was in danger, I would have killed Cressida that day instead of telling her about the divorce. I wished I’d strangled her with my fucking hands. A new wave of utter rage and guilt slashed through me.

I could hear voices in the background, possibly Marcella.

“Fuck it, fuck these goddamn Traditionalists and most of all Antonaci!”

“Dad, you know what this means.”

“The Falcones want revenge.”

“Of course.”

“We’re at war. If we were at peace, it would be understandable that we allow our allies to dish out revenge in our territory like we did with Kiara, but Antonaci acted against the enemy, so he might have acted without my direct orders but that won’t be enough.”

“Greta’s injuries are so bad, she won’t ever have kids. I won’t ever have children, Dad. All because Cressida’s ambition and her father’s fanatism. I want them all dead. I want them to die in the cruelest way possible. And I’ll tell the Falcones that they can have them, that they can kill every fucker who was involved. I’ll fucking applaud them while they skin them. And then there’s going to be peace, and whoever from the Famiglia doesn’t want peace can die alongside Cressida and her damned family.”

“You’re not Capo yet.”

“But I will be and this is the decision I would make.”

Dad was silent on the other end. “They can have Cressida for all I care, but every Famiglia soldier involved will be killed in a public meeting of the entire Famiglia as a warning.”

“Then we should let the Falcones be part of the meeting and allow them to kill Antonaci and the other involved men together with us.”

I heard Marcella’s voice in the background again.

After almost a minute, Dad released a harsh sigh. “That’s how we do it.”

Utter relief washed through me. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Amo?”

“Yes?”

“Make sure your girl gets better.”

I swallowed and hung up.

Then I went back to Remo to tell him our decision. This would pave the way to peace, to Greta’s and my future together.

I found Remo, Nevio and Serafina in front of Greta’s room. I nodded a greeting at Serafina. My interactions with her in the past had been limited to a couple of meaningless pleasantries. I didn’t know much about her, except for her kidnapping story.

“And?” Remo asked with a challenging expression.

I told Remo about the decision.

“We don’t want to wait for revenge until the Famiglia decides it is time. We don’t need a public meeting to spill blood,” Remo said. Nevio nodded.

“It’s the only way. And it’s a chance for peace.”

Nevio laughed. “We don’t need peace.”

Serafina turned to Remo. “Greta needs Amo. She lost so much. Do you want her to lose the love of her life as well?”

For the first time since I’d known Remo Falcone, his eyes flickered with intense emotional pain.

I shoved down my own emotions. I hadn’t allowed myself to really think about what Greta and I had lost. Whenever I’d dreamed about a future with Greta, I’d imagined us having children who filled the house with laughter.

“There is no retribution fitting for what Greta has lost,” Serafina whispered, touching Remo’s chest. “You can slaughter every member of the Famiglia but it won’t help Greta. The only thing you can do for our girl is to give her a future with Amo and for that to happen there must be peace.”

Nevio shook his head with a scoff, but then he exchanged a look with his father, and finally Remo nodded. “We’ll wait for the meeting to kill the rest, but Cressida will die now.”

“By my hands,” Nevio added.

Serafina’s expression twisted with worry. If she worried about Nevio’s mental wellbeing if he killed a woman, she needn’t have bothered. I doubted Cressida would be the first and she wouldn’t be the last either.

“Send her my greetings,” I gritted out.