A Dance of War

by Ellie R. Hunter

  Spinning on his heel, he disappears into the crowd before I can hurl any threats his way.

  “Do you want my advice, Cousin?”

  “I want a fucking drink.”

  Our table is laid out with the finest champagnes and liquor. Helping myself to a large measure of whiskey, I take my seat.

  “There’s a strange taste in the air tonight,” Frankie notes.

  I roll my eyes. “Keep your mouth shut, then.”

  I don’t have the patience for superstitions. This so-called peace ball, but not the peace ball, has always been laced with tension, and tonight will be no different.

  From my seat, I have a perfect view of Father DiMarco as he raises his glass of red wine and smirks.

  “Without Jamila here, surely there’s no need to call for peace? The mayor could easily set his army on us to stop the bloodshed on the streets. Am I missing something here?” Carlo speculates.

  “You’re always missing something,” Frankie quips. “The mayor knows Raphael is the only one who can call off his men. The army will only ignite a new war, and the mayor doesn’t want to dip his hand in his purse to pay for it.”

  He was all too happy to spend his own money on a wedding to Mila.

  I throw back the rest of my drink, not caring about appearances tonight, and pour myself another.

  Alexander talks animatedly with the Father, making it clear for all to see where his loyalties now lie. If I had to guess, I would put my money on him thinking that if he works with the church, no matter if they spill blood, it’ll be done and justified in the eyes of God, which will make him look good in the eyes of the people of Vita. He was prepared to work alongside Mila, knowing what she was about, and there’s no doubt it wouldn’t stop him with DiMarco.

  I no longer care what the people think of me. I had Father Antonio killed, so adding another to my list won’t break my heart. After tonight, I’ll get my sister back. No one tells me what to do, especially an outsider who is only just starting to warm his feet under Vita’s table, so to speak.

  “Seriously, something doesn’t feel right,” Frankie repeats as my eyes follow the mayor’s every step toward the stage.

  With no bargains to be made, his call for peace comes early in the evening.

  “Here we go,” Cristian mutters, sipping from his bottle of water.

  Here we go indeed. The DJ brings the song to an early end, and everyone on the dance floor turns to the stage to see what’s going on.

  “Is everyone enjoying themselves?” Alexander bellows into the mic.

  The crowd cheers, and after a few moments, he holds his hand up to silence them.

  “As we all know, there is no bargaining to be done tonight. Our Jamila is with the angels, her soul finally resting in peace. However, there is still death and blood staining our streets, so I call on Raphael Marocchi. Will you call for peace and finally end the slaughter of our men, or will mothers have to continue to outlive their sons in your appetite for power?”

  Fucking prick.

  I need reminding as to why he’s still alive.

  I need reminding why I shouldn’t just a put a bullet in his head and one in DiMarco’s.

  Everyone’s attention turns to me, yet I still don’t know which way I’m going to go. I could continue to let my men wreak havoc on the streets and watch on as Vita burns around me, or I could concentrate on DiMarco, a new opponent, and recover my sister.

  I have less than two minutes. Standing, I make my way across the dance floor and to the stage.

  What I truly want to do is to remind everyone of my reach if they cross me, and glancing over to DiMarco, his cocky ass grin still in place, I make my decision.

  “Do the right thing, Raphael,” Alexander says, covering the mic with his hand.

  The right thing? I tried that once, and look where it brought me. This isn’t just on me, this is on everyone who jumped on my path to greatness and blocked my way.

  I stare out over the sea of faces, waiting to hear what I have to say. A shuffling in the back leads to whispers that turn to murmurs, growing louder by the second.

  Alexander rips the mic from me and hollers, “What’s going on back there? We’ll have order when peace is about to be declared.”

  That’s presumptuous of him to assume, thinking because I’m standing on this stage, I’m here to call for peace.

  No one listens. Whatever is going on, the people ignore his pleas, and it’s not until bodies start parting that I see why.

  A figure dressed in black lace from her shoulders down to her feet walks toward the stage. I have to loosen my tie, barely able to breathe. Everything stops, the whole fucking world grinding to a halt. I must be hallucinating. Yes, I’m seeing things. Someone slipped something into the liquor, causing me to conjure up Mila.

  Although, why I would conjure Trey fucking Lastra up beside her, I don’t know.

  Coming to a halt in the middle of the now empty dance floor, I look around, wondering if I’m the only one seeing her.

  “People of Vita, as you can see, I am no more dead than you. My enemy failed, as will anyone else who attempts to take my life in the future. I want to be clear. Before the attack on me, I wanted peace for our city, and was prepared to marry the mayor to achieve it. But no more. I will not give up my fight for Vita. Therefore, peace will not come tonight.”

  My feet move before I make the decision to leave the stage. With a clear path toward her, there’s no one to get in my way.

  Her deep brown eyes narrow, but it doesn’t deter me.

  “You had your chance to kill me and you failed. Try it again and I will…”

  She pauses mid-sentence as I go down on one knee, lowering my head in respect. No one breathes. If a pin dropped, it would sound like an explosion.

  “What are you doing?” she hisses.

  Lifting my head, I raise my voice, proclaiming, “I, Raphael Marocchi, offer peace to you, Jamila Camarco. My men will lay down their weapons. No more blood will be shed in our name.” Her sharp intake of breath ripples through me as I rise to my feet. “The Marocchi’s bend the knee.”

  I’ve shocked her, but she quickly masks it as she watches my men all drop to their knee.

  “Do you swear it by the Lord?”

  The mayor is at my side, holding the mic under my chin. I go to swat it away, but it clicks as to what he just said, and I want every man and woman to hear me.

  “I do.”

  Muffled movements begin to filter around us, but I can’t take my eyes away from her. If I do, I may wake up, and she’ll be gone again. If this is a new nightmare, I’ll live it every day, happily, for the rest of my life.

  “The declaration will be unified with a dance, bringing with it a new era for Vita!” Alexander shouts to the crowd as a soft, haunting melody begins to play.

  I hold my hand out, but it’s Trey she looks to. Nodding her head, he backs off, and she takes a step closer to me, placing her hand in mine. Feeling her warmth, I flip it over and rub my thumb over her wrist, checking her pulse. It beats fast, thumping with life under my touch.

  Wasting no time, I pull her against me and close my eyes, relishing in the feel of her heart beating against my chest.

  She’s really here and in my arms. I have so many questions, but they can wait for another time. Neither of us say a word as we glide around the dance floor, watched by every person in the room. Father DiMarco and Alexander cease to exist. I’ve made countless promises to a God I have ignored for many years to have her back, and while I don’t believe for a second He has brought her here, I thank him regardless. We shared a dance many months ago, and more death followed. However, neither one of us bent the knee and offered peace.

  The people watch on with trepidation, as I can see they’re wondering if this is another ploy, this time from me.

  The people’s lack of trust is justified, but come morning, when changes will no doubt be made, they’ll see this is real for themselves and every day that passes after witho
ut trouble and death. The melody quickens, and I know it’ll shortly be coming to an end.

  Twirling around, I dip Mila low and brush my lips close to her ear.

  “Don’t say anything to anyone, not until we’ve talked,” I whisper before pulling her back up.

  We continue dancing until the last note of the melody has been played. Raucous cheers erupt as the guests begin hugging, shouting their glee that the fighting has truly come to an end.

  Unable to let her go just yet, I run my fingers down her cheek. “Death has never been more beautiful.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jamila

  Raphael is wrong. It’s not death that looks beautiful, it’s reincarnation. Coming back from the dead tonight felt empowering as I walked through the crowd, their shock and awe surging through me with every step.

  I step away from Raphael to put some distance between us. He may have bent the knee, but that’s yet to be believed in my eyes. Pressure on my arm jolts me from his gaze, and Trey is quick at my side, pushing up close to Alexander.

  “Release her or lose your hand, Mayor,” he growls in warning.

  “Peace has been achieved. There’ll be no violence tonight.”

  Alexander never changes, always thinking he knows everything when one day soon, it will be his downfall, and then his demise.

  “Marocchi offered peace to Jamila, she accepted, but you are no Marocchi. Now release her.”

  His fingers unfurl from around my arm, and Raphael’s eyes darken as he stands by, watching.

  “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to speak with you privately.”

  I was expecting him to approach me and want to speak. So, for the sake of peace tonight, I accept and follow him through the crowd to his office with Trey on my heels.

  Looking to Trey, Alexander orders, “You’ll wait outside.” Nodding my assurance that it’s fine, he waits outside by the door.

  As soon as I’m over the threshold, Alexander has the door closed and is spinning me around, crashing his lips onto mine.

  Shoving against his chest, he stumbles. Taking full advantage, I move around his desk, making it painfully obviously he’s to keep his distance.

  “Do that again, I’ll ram Trey’s gun so far down your throat it’ll blow your fucking dick off.”

  He recovers quickly from my rejection and prowls toward me. Bracing his hands on the desk, he leans over.

  “I thought you were dead. I buried you, cried for you, and here you stand, pushing me away. We were to be married!”

  Something I thought I wouldn’t do tonight is laugh, but it bursts out of me unexpectantly, even taking me by surprise.

  “Jamila,” he soothes, “why didn’t you come forward? You were to be my wife. I would’ve protected you.”

  “You’re a damn fool if you believed that was real. I never would’ve grown to love you. You were a means to an end to stop you from getting in my way. You were so easily played, just like a man thinking with his dick. I was a prize to you, and I let you believe it.”

  “You bitch!”

  “You forget your place. I do not and will not answer to you!”

  He rounds the desk slowly, but I don’t budge.

  “Raphael offered peace tonight, meaning Vita will change. Any fights that are fought, you will be blamed. And as of now, I will take the necessary measures to put you down.”

  “We all do what we have to do, Alexander. Now, I’m needed elsewhere. Good night.”

  He doesn’t follow me as I head for the door, but before I twist the doorknob, I turn back to him and say, “I hope you’ve realised the engagement’s off.”

  “So are all bets when it comes to my actions, if you should push me into making them.”

  If Raphael failed to end me, I have no concerns of Alexander succeeding. Trey is leaning against the wall outside the door when I step into the hall.

  “He didn’t sound too happy,” he huffs, falling in step as I head for the door.

  “I won’t lose any sleep because of it.”

  My driver is waiting by the car and jumps to open the door as we approach. I slide across the back seat and finally breathe away all the pretences I was holding up.

  Trey breaks the silence. “I can’t say I was expecting Raphael to bend the knee.”

  I replay Raphael strutting toward me. I thought a fight would break out at any second, my men on standby, ready to retaliate, but he knelt before me. He offered peace and himself to me, and it not only took me by surprise, it nearly knocked me over.

  “Shouldn’t we have stuck around? I mean, the people will have wanted to see how the night rolled into the morning.”

  “No, I’m going home.”

  Home. I haven’t been back to the estate since the day of the explosion, and I’ve missed it.

  “What does this mean now? Is Raphael to be trusted because he bent the knee?”

  “Of course not, Trey. Only a fool would trust it to be real. I don’t know what he’s playing at, but it won’t be long before we see the truth of it.”

  I’m grateful for the silence that descends and close my eyes. For three months I’ve been hiding away, letting the people believe I was dead. It was for the greater good, but it’s been draining.

  “Miss? A car is following us, has been since we left the mayor’s mansion,” the driver informs us.

  “What car?”

  “A Marocchi plate.”

  “Continue, and let them through the gates when we arrive at the estate.”

  Trey growls like a dog, and I haven’t the patience for his dramatics. It’ll be Raphael behind us, and he’s going to want answers. For once, I’m going to give them to him. The ones I choose to share, anyway.

  “No Marocchi has ever set foot on the Camarco estate, Mila.”

  “Actually, you’re wrong. Raphael once walked through these very gates,” I begin as we drive through them. “He walked straight through the front doors and danced in our great hall. And besides, he bent the knee. He’s going to want answers, but so do I. If it’ll keep you from growling like a dog, call our guards to surround my office, but you will not interrupt what is going to be said. Understood?”

  He nods, pulling out his phone. A few seconds after the car stops, my door is opened, and I climb out as Raphael exits his vehicle.

  Trey hovers near my side while Cristian clings to Raphael’s, all of us eyeing each other.

  Under the stars, history continues to be made, I suppose.

  I lead the way inside where eight guards are standing around the room of my office. The men who have worked for me never stood down, even though believing me to be dead. Their loyalty will be rewarded.

  There were a handful of people who knew I was returning tonight, and they came forward without hesitation when Trey passed on my orders to them.

  Making my way to the liquor cabinet, I pour two glasses of my best scotch, adding three ice-cubes to each.

  I turn around to see Raphael standing in the middle of my office with his cousin off to his side. Cristian’s eyes wander around every corner, but Raphael’s stay focused solely on me as I pass him a drink.

  “Care to tell me how you’re alive?”

  I cock my brow. He bends the knee and assumes he can speak to me in any manner he wishes? He assumes wrong.

  “Does it matter? You tried to kill me, and you failed.”

  Sipping my scotch, I walk over to my desk and perch along the edge, glad to take the weight of my feet.

  “Of course it matters!”

  Sighing, I follow it up by saying, “Fine. The day of the car bomb, I heard about your brother. It wasn’t my doing, but you’d blame me regardless, so we planned to leave the city. As we were set to leave, the car bomb went off.”

  “Whose bodies did they pull out?” Cristian questions, stepping forward.

  “My driver and one of my maids, who had worked diligently for my family for over twenty years. She was coming with me.”

  “But your cross was pulled
from the wreckage,” Raphael mutters.

  My hand goes to my chest and grasps onto nothing. I’m so used to having it against my skin. After three months, I’m still not used to it being gone.

  “I wanted you to believe I was in the car, and I knew the cross would seal the deal. My staff, more loyal than anyone you’ll ever know, swore to keep my secret, and they played their part well.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “In Dermalen. It’s amazing what you see when you’re a ghost.” Finishing my drink, I place the empty glass on my desk and stand. “Father DiMarco is not who he says he is.”

  I’m careful what I share, not yet knowing Raphael’s true intentions.

  “I know.”

  “Do you know he comes from a family much larger than ours? And that it was our families who took Vita from them? From what I could dig up, he was planted here as the DiMarco’s appointed spy. Their men have been slowly trickling into the city and you didn’t even notice. They want their land back.”

  “Hence, why you said peace wouldn’t come tonight. You were talking about a fight with him?”

  Finally, it all clicks into place for him. “Yes.”

  His chest heaves as he inhales deeply.

  “Then I timed it right.”

  “What?”

  “DiMarco has my sister. She’s his insurance to keep me from killing him or the mayor. I couldn’t have you causing a war before we spoke.”

  And there it is. Confirmation that he bent the knee as a tactic, a ploy to keep me quiet.

  Raphael puts his untouched drink down on the nearest table and turns to the men.

  “Leave us.”

  For a moment, no one moves, not even his cousin Cristian.

  “Are you forgetting you surrendered to the Camarco’s? No one in this room, not even your cousin, works for you.” Trey clarifies, taking great pleasure in being above Raphael, even if it’s briefly, until Raphael shows his true intentions.

  “Leave us,” I say, and every man shuffles out without having to be told again. That brings me pleasure. Trey is last to leave, facing me as he closes the door. I know what he’s thinking, but I dismiss him and pour another drink.