by JM Darhower
It was an invisible wall of pressure separating their chairs.
The lawyer talked about immigration laws, naturalization and the child citizenship acts, but none of it made much sense to her. He started filling out paperwork but hesitated on a document, glancing at Haven. “Miss, what’s your date of birth?”
Her heart thumped wildly. “I’m not sure.”
The lawyer’s forehead creased as his eyes shifted to Michael. “Mr. Antonelli? Her date of birth?”
Michael grumbled a bit but said nothing coherent. Corrado sighed exaggeratedly. “September 10th, 1988.”
The lawyer wrote it down, while Haven just stared at Corrado. She wondered how he knew that, the date running through her mind. September 10th… it was two weeks away.
Michael was handed some paperwork, and he begrudgingly signed all of them before shifting the stack in her direction. She could feel his eyes on her as he held out the pen. She took it without looking at him. Glancing through the papers, she spotted the blank lines beside where he’d signed. Her hand trembled as she scribbled her name in the designated spot. She wondered if he was surprised she could write. Take that, buddy.
They talked about wills and birthrights, custody and residency, and they were given even more paperwork to sign. After about thirty minutes, the lawyer said they were finished and Haven bolted from the room.
“Whoa, tesoro,” Carmine said, grabbing her arm to slow her down. “We’re done. You can relax.”
They headed outside and were standing at the curb beside the Mazda when Michael stepped out of the building. He paused, pulling a cigar from his jacket as he shook his head. “I can’t believe my daughter is with a DeMarco. The bloodlines are going to mix wonderfully.”
Haven sensed Carmine’s anger, but her own temper flared before he could snap. “I’m not your daughter! How can you even try to speak to me after… after… everything!”
Michael’s face turned red as he took a step toward her. “Someone needs to teach you manners, girl.”
Carmine yanked Haven toward the car as people on the sidewalk stopped to watch the commotion. She didn’t resist, fighting back her tears as she climbed into the passenger seat.
Her emotions were all over the place as they drove through town, and Haven’s entire body was trembling by the time they reached the motel. Carmine walked her to their room and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “It’s gonna be all right. I promise.”
His words comforted her. It was going to be all right. Carmine made her believe it. “I trust you.”
Chapter 41
Carmine groaned, the dry desert heat scorching his insides as he took it into his lungs. He started toward the house, irritable and uncomfortable, but froze when the front door opened. Miranda walked out, her eyes darting around wildly. She had a faint hand-shaped bruise on her throat, other stray marks visible on her skin.
“Did Katrina do this to you?” Carmine asked. “I’ll fucking kill her.”
Panic flashed in Miranda’s expression. “Please don’t make a scene.”
He shook his head, fighting to keep a grip on his temper. “It’s wrong.”
“I know, but… please, sir.”
“Christ, don’t call me sir,” he said. “You shouldn’t be treated this way. You’re my girlfriend’s mom.”
Miranda rubbed her neck, gazing at him. “You love her?”
“Yes.”
She hesitated. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course,” he said, curious as to what she was going to say.
She glanced around as she stepped out into the yard, and he followed. He could see the nervousness in her expression, worried she was being watched. “I remember when your mom visited. She was the kindest person I’d ever met. She used to talk about a world outside of this place for my daughter. She said Haven was special.”
Hearing his mom had said those words made Carmine’s chest ache with longing. “She is.”
“It means a lot to hear you say that. I hardly recognize my daughter. She’s still that sweet baby girl I raised, but she’s happy. She’s better off away from all of this.” She started to walk away but paused after a few steps. “I heard someone talking about safe houses once and how they helped people get free. She called them havens. I named her what I did because she was my haven. She was my safe place, my bright spot in this ugly world. When she was born, I found a reason to live. My baby girl, my Haven, needed to be protected. I’ve done all I can do, so I’m asking you to look out for her out there. Keep her away from people like these.” She gestured toward the house. “Let her live, but make sure she stays safe. Can you do that?”
Carmine was stunned at the trust she was placing in him. “Yes.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I can rest easy now.”
The front door opened and Miranda bolted for the stables before he could say another word. Carmine glanced at the porch as Corrado stepped out, his eyebrows raised. “Did you tell her?”
“No, you scared her away before I could.”
Corrado started to speak but was cut off by loud screeching in the house. Footsteps pounded across the floor as Katrina’s voice echoed out to them. “He did what? My brother vouched for that little bitch?”
Carmine started up the steps, but Corrado grabbed a hold of his shirt to stop him. “Control yourself. Don’t say or do anything. This is my situation.”
The front door thrust open, and Katrina stepped out. Her steps faltered when she saw Carmine, but she regained her composure and turned to her brother. “I can’t believe you, Corrado! What did you make my husband sign this morning?”
“He signed what was necessary,” he said, his outward appearance not reflecting the anger brewing on the inside.
Katrina laughed bitterly. “Necessary? None of this is necessary! You’re freeing that damn girl and taking her mother? What’s gotten into you? Is it because of her? Is that what this is about?”
Fire flared in Corrado’s eyes as he lost his composure. “Zitto!”
Carmine’s heart thumped frantically, but Katrina didn’t seem fazed. “Don’t tell me to shut up! It is, isn’t it? Trying to make up for the past? It can’t be fixed, Corrado!”
“I’m not going to tell you again, Katrina.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, closing the distance between them. “You’re screwing up my life over this! Why do these people matter? Just because these stupid DeMarco’s fall—”
Corrado’s arms shot out, his hands grasping her by the throat and cutting off her words mid-sentence. She started choking, her manicured fingernails digging into his flesh as she tried to pry his hands off. Even as she drew blood, Corrado didn’t waver.
“Are you done now?” he asked, the eerie calmness returning and sending a chill down Carmine’s spine. Katrina nodded, gurgling as she fought for oxygen and words. “Burns, doesn’t it? Imagine how they feel when you torture them, how Miranda felt this morning when you grabbed her like this. Imagine how she felt that day, Kat, when those men were choking her, when they were violating her, and you did nothing to stop it!”
Corrado continued to stare at his sister, giving no indication that he was going to let her go. Michael bounded out the front door of the house and gasped when he saw what was happening. “Stop! You’re going to kill her!”
Corrado’s eyes snapped to Michael. There was no emotion in his expression, nothing but darkness. This was the Corrado that Carmine had always feared.
Before he could dwell on that, a loud scream rang out from the stables, startling them all. It was bone-chilling, and Carmine’s heart stalled as his blood ran cold. Corrado let go of Katrina, his eyes meeting Carmine’s as he hurried down the steps. Carmine leaped off the porch after him, terror rupturing through him hard.
“She’s not her,” Katrina screamed from the porch. “Just because he’s doing the same thing as his father doesn’t mean they’re the same!”
Those words caught Carmine off guard. He swung around to look a
t Katrina, not paying attention to where he was going. He ran straight into Corrado’s back as his uncle stopped in the doorway to the stables, nearly knocking him over. Corrado swung Carmine around and shoved him inside as the screaming rang out again. Carmine’s head snapped in the direction of the noise, sickness rocking through him as the air left his lungs. He started dry heaving, trying to breathe through the bile that flooded his chest. It burned, suffocating him, and his vision blurred as he nearly blacked out.
Flashes of memory hit him, buckling his knees. The gunshot, the blood, the terror, the hooded figure pointing the gun at him. And then there was his mom, lying dead in the darkened alleyway after the shrill screams rang out in the night.
Corrado yanked him upright by his shirt and shoved him again, forcing him back to reality as a shrieking Clara ran from the stables. “Get a grip, Carmine.”
Carmine shook his head, trying to focus. Lying on the ground in front of him, in a pile of hay, was a small, wooden stool. His gaze trailed upward, seeing the pair of dirty bare feet a few inches above it. The frail, familiar form hung limp like a rag doll, still swinging in the air.
Miranda’s body was affixed to a low rafter by a piece of thick rope. Carmine lunged forward and grabbed a hold of her legs, pushing up on her body as he yelled for help. Corrado grabbed a pair of garden sheers from the wall and snipped the rope. The body fell on Carmine, and he staggered a few steps, nearly losing his footing. Laying her down on the ground, he checked for a pulse but couldn’t find one.
Katrina and Michael came in as Carmine started CPR, pounding on her chest and desperately trying to force air into her lungs. Her body was still warm like she was asleep, but her wide eyes and ashen face told another story. Carmine could hear Katrina shouting and Michael’s rushed voice, but the sound of his blood pumping through his body drowned out their words.
Panic. All he could feel was panic.
Nothing Carmine did seemed to help. Ribs cracked sickeningly under the force of his compressions, her body not absorbing any of his air. Miranda lay still on the ground, her heart no longer beating.
Corrado grabbed his shoulder. “She’s dead.”
Carmine shrugged him off. “No, she’s not! We have to save her!”
“It’s too late.”
“It’s not too late!” He hysterically pushed on her chest some more. “Why are you just standing there?”
“There’s nothing we can do.”
“Help her! You told me you would, you fucking liar!”
Corrado grabbed his arm, pulling him away from Miranda’s lifeless body and shoving him back onto the ground. “She’s too far gone.”
“How the hell do you know?”
His expression was cold. “I know a dead body when I see one.”
Carmine sat in the dirt, his eyes stinging with tears. He looked around frantically, hoping it was a vicious nightmare he’d soon wake up from, and spotted a smug smile on Katrina’s lips.
The sight of it made him lose what was left of his control. “This is your fault!” He looked between Katrina and Michael. “You killed her!”
Katrina scoffed. “She killed herself.”
“No, you did this! You made her do this!”
“Who cares?” Katrina snapped. “She’s just a slave! That’s all!”
The moment those words met his ears, all logic fizzled away. “No, she wasn’t! She wasn’t a slave!”
“Carmine!” Corrado warned.
“She was a Principessa!” he said, ignoring his uncle. “Salvatore’s gonna kill you when he finds out what you’ve done!”
Grabbing the garden sheers from the ground by his leg, Carmine flung them at Katrina and struck her in the side when she tried to move away. Deranged, she grabbed a shovel and started toward him.
He scurried backward and tried to get to his feet as she raised the shovel above her head. Corrado reacted swiftly and pulled his gun from his coat, aiming it at his sister with no hesitation. The sound of the gunshot ricocheted off the walls in the small enclosure, and Carmine recoiled at the deafening noise. Everything happened fast, a flurry of activity, but Carmine felt like he was watching it all in slow-motion.
Katrina gasped as the bullet ripped through her chest, her footsteps halting as she swung the shovel in reaction. It slammed into Carmine’s shoulder blade, sharp pain running through his left side. Katrina sputtered and dropped the shovel to clutch her chest. Another shot rang out, hitting dead center between her eyes, and she dropped to the ground.
A frantic Michael screamed, lunging for him, and Corrado reacted once more. Ducking, Carmine covered his head when the gunshot rang out, blood splattering in his direction as the bullet ripped through Michael’s skull. He fell forward with a thud beside his wife, his body limp on impact. Carmine dry-heaved again as Corrado fired off a few more shots into their bodies, his finger casually pulling the trigger as if it meant nothing.
As if they weren’t people. As if they weren’t his family.
Glaring, Corrado yanked Carmine off the ground. He staggered a few steps as he attempted to gain his footing, his legs trying to buckle under his weight. He swayed, trying to hold everything in, but the annihilation sent shockwaves through him.
Corrado returned his gun to his coat and pulled out his cell phone as Carmine sat down on the small stool. Putting his head between his legs, he covered his face with his hands and took deep breaths. He counted to ten, trying to calm down, but his ears rang and head pounded as Corrado spoke calmly into the phone.
One.
“There’s been an incident.”
Two.
“I burned two, sir.”
Three.
“A confrontation escalated.”
Four.
“I had to act.”
Five.
“My sister and her husband.”
Six.
“I take full responsibility.”
Seven.
“I’ll get a place ready.”
Eight.
“And I’ll accept any consequences…”
Nine.
“…even if it means rescinding my vouch.”
Ten.
Carmine stared at his uncle when he hung up the phone. He’d blurted out the secret, the one thing he knew he could never speak aloud. “Rescind your vouch?”
Corrado slipped his phone into his pocket. “Yes. You better hope Sal feels forgiving, because I just broke our code of conduct.”
“I, uh…”
“There’s nothing else to say, Carmine. What’s done is done.”
“But, uh…” Corrado’s nonchalance was scaring him. “Your sister. I know you always protect your family.”
“Well, you are my nephew, correct?” Carmine nodded. “And Katrina was attacking you, correct?” Another nod. “That means I protected my family.”
“I guess so.”
“There’s no guessing about it. My sister and her husband made their beds, and it’s nobody’s fault but their own that they now lay in them. Are you upset they’re no longer living? I assumed you’d be glad after everything they did.”
He stared at him but didn’t speak, afraid he’d get sick if he tried. He’d said not long ago that they’d pay for everything, but he never imagined it would happen like it had. He never imagined he’d be sitting on a stool, trembling as their bloody bodies lay a few feet from him. Never in a million years had he imagined the day would end with him splattered in blood, the same blood that coursed through Haven’s veins, while both of the people who brought her into existence were dead.
“It’s over now,” Corrado said, looking at the bodies. “This isn’t yours to deal with… it’s mine. You didn’t listen to me before, but maybe you’ll listen now. Your job, Carmine, is to go explain to Haven why she won’t be getting her mother, after all. I hope this teaches you a lesson, and you’ll finally realize you don’t know everything.”
* * * *
Haven was jolted awake, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach
as she sat upright in the darkened room. The black-and-white static on the television screen faintly illuminated Carmine standing by the doorway. A strange sensation trickled through her, a coldness that started in her chest. “Carmine? What happened?”
He stared at her, and in the glow of the television, she could see his panic. His eyes shined with tears of desperation, and she just knew that something had gone wrong.
“Mama’s safe, right? You got her out of there, didn’t you?”
Carmine took a step forward and ever so slightly shook his head. The subtle movement rocked her foundation.
When he stepped further into the light, she could see the red on his shirt, the splatter of blood. She’d seen it before, streaking her blue dress as she stared down at the body of the fallen teenage girl. It was the mark of desolation. It was the mark of death. “No!”
His face twisted in agony. Haven’s chest constricted as it felt like her lungs had collapsed. Hyperventilating, her chest burned as her insides burst into vicious flames. “Please, no!”
Carmine’s raspy voice echoed with distress. “Oh, God.”
Haven frantically shook her head. “You promised, Carmine!”
“I know I did, baby.” He reached for her, but she pushed him as she hard as she could.
“Stop! Just stop it! You’re wrong!” Tears flowed from her eyes. “Where is she, Carmine?”
Despite her attempts to get away, Carmine grabbed a hold of her and squeezed her tightly. She tried to push out of his arms but he held on, never wavering. “Let go of me! Tell me where she is!”
He shushed her, and she could hear his voice tremble as he started to cry. His tears shattered what was left of her resolve. Uncontrollable sobs ripped from her as she wailed on him, screaming that he didn’t know anything. Balling her hands into fists, she repeatedly hit him in the back. He took every blow in stride, never once loosening his grip.
