Journal Entry

Day 29.

Search and rescue called off.

Moskran authorities declare the case closed.

Publicly state they will no longer entertain inquiries.

Privately inform us their hands are tied.

In short: they don't think we're worth helping.

We're on our own now.

IT'S THE HEIGHT OF summer, and everything around me is green and lush. Everything is full of life, and the very air I breathe sings with it.

Even the distant sounds from the nearby park are an ode to a joyful existence.

A child giggles as his parent pushes his swing from behind. Picnic goers banter with each other. Couples laugh and yell as they race down Charles River in their kayaks.

These sounds are supposed to heal me.

But all I can think of is how the whole world thinks my brother is... dead .

"So this is where you've been hiding."

The voice is wonderfully familiar, and the words are a distraction I'm grateful for. I know it's no coincidence that Sarica finds me at the exact moment fears and doubts have made another demonic attempt to poison my heart.

But just so we're clear—-

"I'm having my quiet time."

Which is completely different from hiding.

Sarica joins me on the balcony but walks past my table. A pair of stone gargoyles seemingly watch over her as she leans against the balustrade.I close my journal and get to my feet. A gentle breeze dances past, and the older girl impatiently tucks her bubblegum-colored locks behind her ear.

Sarica glances at my journal and wrinkles her nose.

"What?" I ask blankly.

"Exactly. What do you think will happen if your diary falls into the wrong person's hands?"

"Not possible," I answer promptly.

" Duh. Of course, it's—-"

"My journal may end up in someone else's hands," I clarify, "but who says they're the wrong pair?"

Words like this are usually enough to make Sarica roll her eyes. It's why I've said them. She's just so adorably easy to provoke, and teasing her has always been one of my favorite hobbies.

But instead of rising to the bait like she usually does, I'm stunned when Sarica only stares at me.

"I hate it," Sarica whispers.

The pain in her eyes says everything her words fail to get across, and all I can do is look at her.

"There's just so much of Giancarlo in you, Gaz. So, so much."

Because if I do anything else, it will break both of us.

"I hate it when you remind me of him. But I know I'll hate it even more if you don't."

Sarica's fists clench while she's speaking. She's always been the type to hate waiting. But there's nothing else she can do now. Nothing any of us can do but that.

We wait .

Despair swells up inside of me, and I turn my gaze desperately to the Common. Views of it from our estate are unparalleled throughout the city. It's a luxury that other famiglie have been known to secretly covet. Nowadays, however, our enemies have all come out of hiding, and they're acting like it's open season for my famiglia.

Because they think they smell blood.

And maybe it's true.

Maybe it's their souls warning them with an omen.

Because the blood that they're smelling?

It's not ours, but theirs.

And I pray they'll realize it's so...before anyone gets hurt.

"Do you know why I think he's still alive?"

Sarica's question catches me off guard, but it's her jerky tone that has me gritting my teeth.

Don't you dare cry, Gaz!

Because as much as all of this pains me, I also know no one has it harder than Sarica.

So. Don't. You. Dare.

I barely manage to shake my head, and a ghost of a smile touches Sarica's lips. "Do you remember how much I used to hate going to those Bible studies you dragged me to?"

My brows furrow. I'm not sure where she's going with this.

"And how I'd give everyone a hard time because I think it's all a bunch of shit ?"

Her words bring back memories that almost make me smile.

Maybe you need to hear me say it the old-school way. We're the fucking mafia, Gaz. You can't expect me to wear a cross around my neck and believe in it, too!

Yes, I do remember those times.

I remember so very clearly how Sarica would try her hardest to pretend she didn't care, and I also remember just as clearly how Sarica wasn't able to fool anyone even then.

Oh yes, I remember.

"There was this one verse that I'd always end up thinking of," Sarica reveals as I turn to face her, "every time I see you or Giancarlo doing something so annoyingly and foolishly honorable."

And even though I'm still not sure where this is going—-

"The LORD will fight for you," Sarica whispers, "you need only to be still."

My heart is starting to break for some reason.

"And that's w-why," Sarica chokes out. "T-That's why, I can't imagine either of you dying like this. I refuse to believe He'd let either of you die like this."

Everything is suddenly, wonderfully, and painstakingly clear.

"I didn't know shit about God, Gaz. But you and Giancarlo have convinced me that He was the reason I didn't die that day."

I finally see where this is going, and I can't believe I was so blind not to have seen it from the start.

"So you tell me. You tell me, Gaz," Sarica says fiercely. "Why should I believe what the whole world thinks when I know the truth? We know there's no limit to what He can do, so why should I act otherwise? I don't give a fuck about what other people say. It's not Giancarlo's time yet. We both know it isn't. Because there are things he still has to do, things I...things I...have to tell him."

Oh, Sari.

She's always made a show of not being in love with my brother. But it's not like any of us, least of all Giancarlo, ever believed her.

"He's alive, Gaz," Sari says fiercely. "He has to be, and—-"

"You need to stop swearing," I cut her off with a teary laugh.

I'm sorry, God. I forgot who You are, and I started doubting You even without knowing it.

"Because you're right."

And thank You.

Because He's used Sarica to open my eyes, and I'll just have to find a way to make it up to Sarica when this memory comes back to haunt her, and she'll start hating herself for being so nice and emo.

"Hell yes, I'm fucking right!"

A choked laugh escapes me. "What is it with all this swearing?"

"To give Giancarlo nightmares, wherever he is."

Her grim tone doesn't fool me at all.

She knows she's being silly, but she doesn't care.

She wants him back as much as we all do, and I just can't help it anymore.

I throw my arms around her and hug Sarica as tightly as I can even though I know she'll hate it. I just need to hug her right this moment. And even though I'm already expecting Sarica to shove me away any second—-

Oh, Sari.

She starts to cry instead.

And her tears say everything, even without a single word.

You get it, too, don't you, Gaz?

And I cry with her because I do get it.

Giancarlo is still alive.

Because God's got our back, and we don't even have to do anything.

Giancarlo is alive!

Because God promised to fight for him, and God always keeps His promises.

Always .