A Dance of War

by Ellie R. Hunter

  Grateful? He insults us, but I let it go.

  “Those are quite the terms. Unoriginal, of course, but no less effective. We’ll think it over and get back to you with our answer.”

  Before turning, his jaw drops, and I smile, knowing I’ve stunned him. I don’t know what shocks him. It’s not like I have an attachment to the girl.

  “Very well. You have till sunset,” he calls out as I pull open the door.

  “Thirty seconds,” Trey whispers next to me.

  The door closes behind me, and I turn to Raphael. “Have your men, wherever they are”—I make my point by looking up and down the street—“to be ready for anything in the next twenty seconds.”

  “Why? What’s going to happen? What haven’t you told me?”

  “Once again, it’s not me who answers to you. Now, you put yourself at my mercy, so I thought you might like to be rewarded.”

  A black SUV pulls up to the curb, and the back window rolls down, exposing Sienna Marocchi.

  Raphael’s mouth hangs open before he snaps it shut and jogs down the steps to talk with her through the window. Stroking her cheek, and a single tear falls from her eye. I see he still lets his kindness show from time to time like he did all those years ago with me. Yet it’s still not enough for me to believe his every word.

  He leans through the window and speaks with the driver before pushing away, allowing the SUV to speed away.

  I walk down the steps and meet him at the curb where he looks at me like he’s never seen me before, and I have to look away.

  “How?”

  Our car pulls up beside us and I smile. “While blue eyes were too busy weeping, mine were wide open and witnessing a new war coming to Vita. Whispers in Dermelan are rife, and many lips speak for a price. I’ve known where she’s been for the last six weeks. DiMarco has lost his leverage now, so I suggest you ready your men for battle. Oh, and remind them that they fight for me now.”

  Trey opens the door, but Raphael’s hand shoots out and grips onto my arm, stopping me from climbing inside.

  “Blue eyes weeping? Why would you say that?” he asks with so much confusion in his eyes, it’s hard to look away.

  “Did you not cry for me, Raphael?”

  Why is he so affected by those words? Unless… Did he find Father Luke? No, that’s not possible. The nurses know to contact me if anyone but me visits him. No one’s meant to know where he is.

  Releasing my arm, I waste no time in hopping into the car. Cristian follows, and then Raphael, barking orders for the driver to take him to his house. Trey slams the door behind him and the car jerks away from the church.

  “I want answers, Mila.”

  “Father, can I ask you a personal question?”

  I’m meant to be collecting the bibles from this morning’s service, but I’m struggling to focus on the chore.

  “Ask away.” He pauses lighting the candles, and gestures for me to join him on the front pew.

  Placing the short stack in my arms down, I choose to sit in the second row.

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  Smiling fondly, he gazes over at the cross, and I wonder who he’s thinking about.

  “I’ve been in love for a long time. Not in the conventional sense, mind you, but I have my love for Christ.”

  Disappointment courses through me. “Have you never loved a woman?”

  “No. Our destiny is written before we’re born, and I was destined to lead the people of Vita under His path. Why do you ask?”

  “Since I’ve been with Raphael, I feel whole, like I was waiting for him to complete me, and it’s been making me think about others. Do you feel complete?”

  Focusing on his bushy brows, his smile never wavers.

  “Doing the Lord’s work completes me. There’s no need to concern yourself with me, as I’m more than happy.”

  The side door creaks open and Raphael darts inside.

  My day brightens at the sight of him, and his smile grows when his eyes land on me.

  “You’re early,” I point out.

  He said he couldn’t meet us until after lunch.

  “My father wants me to attend a benefit with him this evening out of the city. If I didn’t come now, I wouldn’t have been able to make it at all.”

  “You’re leaving the city?”

  I’ve only ever left the city once, and that was because my mother had threatened to leave my father and take me with her, and he couldn’t trust her to still be at the house when he returned from his business trip. I spent three days holed up in a hotel suite while he went off to his meetings, and my mother locked herself in her room and cried.

  “My father is the main benefactor, and he says I have to familiarise myself with his dealings. It’s the last thing I want to do, but… you know, appearances.”

  I vow that I’m never going to live my life for appearances’ sake. I am who I am, I’ll be who I choose to be, and I won’t hide the true me from anyone.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Raphael

  “She’s taking the fucking piss, Cousin,” Cristian growls to my right.

  Drumming my fingertips on the highly polished tabletop, my agitation builds as I roam my gaze over Frankie and Carlo to my left.

  “He’s not wrong,” Frankie adds.

  I sent for Mila over an hour ago, and she has yet to show her face. After Cristian and I were dropped off, I first made sure my sister was unharmed, and had her sit and tell me everything about her time spent with the DiMarco’s. She sits beside me now, and it’s a strange notion to think I was close to playing with her life and not calling for peace. Besides Cristian, she’s my only family left in this world, and I’ll be doing more to protect it in the future.

  The door opens and Mila walks in, the ever-loyal Trey at her side. Standing from my seat, I sweep my hand toward the chair at the end of the table for her to take.

  “Who would’ve thought a Camarco would be my saviour?” Sienna purrs, sipping her wine.

  Mila’s reply is to smile tightly as she takes her seat before focusing her attention on me as I sit.

  “Explain why I’m here? Just because we’re allies, doesn’t mean we have to break bread together.”

  Her gaze roams over the food covering every inch of the table, but it was more for Sienna’s benefit. I wanted her belly full upon her return.

  “Because I’m owed answers, Mila.”

  Plus, I like the sight of her at my table. “How did you extract my sister?”

  “How did she succeed where you failed, you mean?” Trey counters.

  Slamming my hand down on the table, I let my frustration with him show.

  “If I had tried, I would have succeeded.”

  “Charming,” Sienna snorts, sitting forward to top up her wine.

  I take the bottle from her when she’s done and set it out of her reach. She’s had more than enough already.

  “Big brother,” she tsks. “I’m plenty old enough to drink however much I like.”

  Setting my glare on her, it doesn’t take long for her to shrink into herself.

  Mila begins to speak. “I had my men go in after the day shift showed up. They’re all dead, and your sister can confirm it. One of my soldiers has their phone and will send a text every hour confirming to DiMarco she’s okay. He won’t know the truth until the night shift shows up and see the pile of dead bodies.”

  I used to doubt her on so many occasions, believing I knew what was best for her, and it was always to keep her out of harm’s way. She would argue about how she would be at my side and wouldn’t hide away. I should’ve listened and believed her.

  Looking down at her watch, a slow smile creeps along her mouth. “In fact, the night shift will be taking over right about now.”

  The butler brings in bowls of soup, and Frankie is the first to devour the rich tomato gloop as I lean back in my chair. Mila and Trey exchange a wary look, their silent, secret conversation spiking my jealously. “Tuck in. It�
��ll go cold,” I advise.

  “It’d be an easy way to get rid of us, cleanly,” Mila snorts.

  She cannot be serious.

  Pushing up out of my chair, I walk around the table, a silent hush following my every step.

  Stopping beside Mila, I lean over her and pick up her spoon. Dipping it into the soup, I bring it to my mouth and swallow.

  “It’s fine,” I whisper in her ear, immediately regretting it.

  Her hair smells of coconut, the dark, silk strands brushing against my cheek. I go back to my seat, and by the time I sit, she’s picked up her spoon.

  There’s no conversation while we eat, and I want to ask her what she said about blue eyes weeping this morning. It’s a question I want to ask in private, though.

  “Although we’ve bent the knee to you, Jamila, do we get to know what your plan is? What is our, or your, next move?” Cristian asks her, pushing his empty bowl away.

  She looks across the table to him and puts down her spoon.

  “It’s long been hoped that Vita would live in peace with our families no longer enemies, as well as a mayor and the police force actually being able to do their jobs. I’m apparently to trust the first is happening as we speak, but the stability of our mayor is more than questionable. He gave me a free pass, so to speak, to end you without reprisal or punishment. Alexander has proven he’s easily swayed by the promise of a woman in his bed, so no doubt he could be swayed by other means. And, from what I’ve seen, he’s already jumped ship to Father DiMarco.”

  She looks to me and carries on. “We both agreed months ago he needed to die, and it still stands. We’ll start with taking out the mayor, and then face the DiMarco’s. Once we’ve ended this new fight, Vita will elect a new mayor, but this time, it will be someone who isn’t interested in appeasing us. We’ll have candidates come forward who are strong-willed and want the best for Vita. Most importantly, candidates who aren’t afraid of us.”

  Cristian laughs, but it dies off quickly. “There isn’t a man in Vita who doesn’t fear us.”

  “Who says the candidates have to be men?” she asserts. “Women are more than capable of holding down positions of power, and many women in this city do not fear either of us themselves, they pity us. Women are the ones who suffer the most here with losing their sons, husbands, and brothers, yet they still go on every day no matter how much pain they’re in or how scared they are another family member will die on the streets they walk. Owning a dick doesn’t equate to brains and strength. Vita needs somebody who has seen and survived the worst and imagines the best.”

  I don’t know why I keep finding myself surprised where Mila is concerned. Her way of thinking is the polar opposite to mine, but no less effective.

  “Maybe I’ll run for mayor once this is over,” Sienna says, chuckling into her nearly empty wine glass.

  “No candidates will be from our camps. There are over six thousand people in Vita who need someone who belongs to them, not us,” Mila snaps.

  “Oh, well, I guess I’ll go back to painting and living off my brother.”

  Rolling my eyes, I ignore the blood-related pain in my ass and reach for my drink.

  “You’re talking about giving up your power,” Frankie insists.

  “What power would I be giving up exactly?” she questions. He goes to respond, but nothing comes out. “I have plenty of money. I have businesses that bring a lot of income to the city, and I have charities that I’m ambassador to—that’s power. But you’re talking about power over my men, aren’t you? I don’t see power quite the same as you. Raphael gave up his to me. Does he not still hold it on the tip of his tongue when he gives you your orders?”

  “In case you’re still not getting it, she’s telling you that power comes in many forms. It’s not always about blood and death,” Trey huffs, crushing pieces of bread into his soup.

  “I get what she’s saying, but I don’t agree. Men have lived their entire lives fighting, so what are we to do when your perfect Vita is upon us?”

  “They get to survive.”

  She puts it so simply, but I have to agree with Frankie’s assessment. It’s going to be hard for a lot of soldiers to change their ways because we say they have to.

  Christian explains, “She’s going to let the chief of police do their job and put the bad guys away. If they break the law, it won’t be because we ordered them to, it’ll be of their own volition and down to them to pay the price.”

  “Exactly. It’s the way it should’ve been, and it’s the way in many countries around the world. Vita will be no different.”

  The butler bursts into the dining room, and Mila is on her feet before I am. Danger is in the air, and I’m already reaching for the gun I have stashed under the table.

  “What is it, Alfred?” Cristian snaps.

  “Mayor Salvatore, the chief of police, and a man of the cloth are through the gates that weren’t opened for them, and they’re not alone.”

  “Police officers?” Frankie asks, typing away on his phone.

  “Some, but they seem to be soldiers. Not yours, though.”

  “It has to be DiMarco’s men,” I growl, tucking the gun into the back of my pants.

  Trey hands Mila a gun that she holds like she’s done it a thousand times before, tucking into the garter halfway up her thigh. Again, I shouldn’t be surprised she knows how to fire a gun, and it shouldn’t be turning me on.

  Heading for the door, Mila steps in front of me and lifts her chin.

  “Now is the time to take out Alexander. They’re not here to have dinner with us.”

  “I agree.”

  “The chief isn’t going to let you take out the mayor and get away with it,” Trey remarks.

  Keeping her eyes on me, Mila says flatly, “Then the chief will die tonight too.

  We go out first. I already have my men standing by yours, so you take my lead.”

  “If something should happen tonight, I want you to know this isn’t how I wanted it to end between us.”

  Her brows pinch together as she steps closer. “If your will isn’t strong enough to end this night the victor, then you have no business standing beside me, Raphael.”

  Trey smirks and joins Mila as she walks out the room. I thought she was fucking dead, which has shown me how easily one of us can be taken out. She knows what I fucking meant.

  I catch up to them just as they make it to the front door.

  “You found your will, then?” Smirking, she nods for Frankie to open the door.

  As we step outside, blue lights glow in the darkness, and I scope out how many men are here. I count the twenty-four men I’ve never seen before backing up the mayor, the chief, and Father DiMarco.

  “What’s this all about?” I call out.

  “Raphael Marocchi and Jamila Camarco, you are under the arrest for murder,” the chief shouts through his megaphone.

  “Who’s murder?” I ask, making my voice carry over the wind.

  He lists eight names. Eight names I’ve never heard.

  “They’re DiMarco’s men at the hotel,” Mila utters under her breath.

  “You’re mistaken. I’ve been too busy today to murder anyone. Leave my property, or I can’t promise you’ll get the option again.”

  Alexander moves forward, his eyes only for Mila. “Come quietly, and no one will have to get hurt. I can still help you if you cooperate.”

  Fantastic. She shows him up, calls off an engagement she told him was a sham, and he still wants to save her.

  Ignoring him, she looks up at me. “We’ll never get a better chance to take them out like this. I’ll take down Alexander, and you take the chief, yes?”

  With a nod, she counts down from three. Whipping my gun out, I aim for the chief while she slides her shooter out of her garter and points it at the mayor. Our shots fire simultaneously, and the two men drop to the ground. The unexpected has their men staring on for a few seconds, and I watch the smoke drift from the barrel of my gun.


  “Take them out!” DiMarco yells. Along the trees, our men creep out, their shooters aimed for the enemies.

  The guy standing to DiMarco’s left pulls out his weapon, but it’s not me he sets his sights on. It’s Jamila.

  Shoving myself forward, I block his view with my back and wind my arm around her so she can’t move.

  Gunshots pierce the air and echo. It reminds me of a war movie I watched once, only I’m not trying to save a country. I’m only interested in getting Mila to safety.

  Pushing her backward, I lose patience when she keeps tripping over her feet, so I bend down and lift her. Running into the house, I kick the door shut, but leave it unlocked for my men to enter.

  She shoves against me until I release her, her face red with anger.

  “Don’t ever do that again!”

  “Why are you so angry? I just saved you!”

  I haven’t got the time or inclination to hear how women are stronger than men. Not tonight, and certainly not when she had a gun aimed for her head.

  “Besides making me look like I can’t handle myself, you just showed everyone who’s against us that you’re willing to die for me!”

  “I am!”

  If I wasn’t concerned about a stray bullet, I’d throw my gun across the hall just to release some of this pent-up frustration I have with her.

  “I don’t give a fuck who knows it. I’d rather die protecting you than any other reason. At least I’d die for something I believe in.”

  Her anger fades to confusion, but she’s still pissed.

  “Raphael—”

  The door barrels open with Trey and Cristian rushing inside, both unharmed.

  “The police backed off first, and we managed to get nine of DiMarco’s men before they retreated,” Cristian informs us before sitting down on the bottom stair to catch his breath.

  “What about DiMarco?” Mila asks.

  “He was first to run.”

  “It doesn’t matter. There’s no mayor or chief to stand between us and the DiMarco’s now. We move fast, because he’ll be thinking the same and come for us.”

  As the men pour in, I turn back to Mila, daring her to defy my next move, because if she does, I’ll follow her. And if she gets hit, so will I.