by Bethany-Kris
“Lucia.”
Lucia’s gasping sob came further away than her last words. It felt like a snake slithering across the floor to find Renzo, wrap around his body, and tighten on him like it was about to squeeze him to death. All of that confusion muddying up his mind and making him feel off-balance drifted away when he caught sight of Lucia fighting with her brother in the doorway. The other two men who had come in to help stayed a couple of feet back. Like they didn’t dare step in and put their hands on her.
Instead, it was just her brother with his arms locked around her like bars she couldn’t get free from, and pulling her closer and closer to the door. Further and further away from him and Diego.
Her wild, hazel gaze found Renzo.
Terrified, and fighting.
Not giving her brother an inch at all.
He let Diego go, then. It wasn’t like he felt steady enough to get to his feet, but he did just that. He made it all of two steps across the room when three guns came out, racked back, aimed at him, and ready to fire. One from John, and two from the other men. But if a gun was going to be the thing that took Lucia away from him, he was going to have to be dead on the ground with a fucking bullet in his head.
Simple as that.
Renzo took one more step.
“Move again, and I’ll blow your fucking brains out,” John murmured coldly.
“John,” Lucia whispered. “Please …”
“You’re going home.”
“I don’t want—”
John’s gaze snapped back to Renzo. “One more fucking step, Renzo. Take it, I dare you.”
“John!” Lucia tried to pull away from her brother, but it was useless. He had one hold on her, and another firmly on the gun that Renzo was staring down. “Let me go right now.”
The man never looked away from Renzo. It was like Lucia’s fight and defiance didn’t affect him at all. He was bigger than her; stronger, too. Her frustration was his annoyance.
“You had a good run,” John told him, “but it’s done now. You got me?”
Renzo’s jaw clenched.
How the fuck was he going to get Lucia away—
He didn’t even get to finish his thought process. The next crack to his head sent him to the floor again, but this time, his vision blacked out altogether. He was so busy staring at John and the love of his life that was too far away from him that he forgot to be mindful of the other two men who had moved to either side of him. He was still dealing with that blinding rage instead of trying to be smart.
As he drifted out of consciousness, he heard Lucia screaming. Diego was crying.
He blacked out again. The second time he almost came to, Diego was asking someone to help. And he heard the owner of the place—Todd—say he was calling the cops. The third time, he heard sirens. Renzo knew what that meant.
It was all over, now.
There would be no coming back from this.
Ever.
SEVENTEEN
“I didn’t want to do this to you, you know,” John said.
Lucia continued staring out the port window of the private jet. She heard her brother, of course, but she just didn’t care to listen. Therein was the difference. Not that John seemed to understand or anything. He seemed perfectly fine with chatting like she was talking back, even though she clearly wasn’t.
In fact, she wasn’t even pretending to give a fuck what her brother was telling her. She wished he would get the hint, and fuck off. The last several hours of her life had been … traumatic, to say the least. Nothing she had done with Renzo … none of the things they experienced together, including killing Tuck, came close to the trauma of the last few hours. She was never going to forget the sight of Renzo bleeding and broken with his little brother crawling on top of him as he tried to wake him up while Lucia was dragged away.
She couldn’t help.
All she could do was scream, cry, and fight.
It wasn’t enough.
Not to help him.
So yeah. Fuck John if he thought Lucia was going to entertain his conversation and apologies. Like they were supposed to mean something to her? They didn’t.
Not at all.
“You didn’t think after the mess you all left behind, that no one would come looking for you, did you?” her brother asked. “Dad wasn’t going to let the police catch up to you first, Lucia. You have to understand where he was coming from. At first, he was just worried about you and making sure you were safe. But then we started to find messes that we had to try and clean everywhere you two went. The robbery—then Vegas. Stolen cars. The hotel. If we could find the problems, then you could bet the police were going to catch on, too. They already started to. You gotta understand where he’s—”
Slowly, Lucia turned in her seat to face her brother who was just one aisle over. Dressed in a three-piece suit, with his hair combed back and his hands resting in his lap, John didn’t look like someone who only a few hours before had stormed an apartment, watched as a man got the hell beat out of him, and then dragged his sister down a flight of stairs before shoving her into a car.
They were funny that way.
The Marcellos, that was.
They could show the parts of themselves that made them horrible, and in the next breath, be right back to the polite, God-fearing, upper echelon beings that allowed them to get private invitations to charity balls and got their pictures splashed in the society rags. No one truly understood the masks a Marcello wore quite like another Marcello.
“Why are you still talking?” Lucia asked him.
John blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I haven’t replied to you once since you put me in that car. Wasn’t that clear enough for you that I don’t want to speak to you right now? If I have my way, John, I won’t ever talk to you again.”
“You don’t mean that, Lucy. You’re angry with me right now because of all of this. In a few days, once your head clears and you get some distance between you and that man, you’ll come to your senses—”
“And I’ll still tell you to fuck off, John.”
Her brother stiffened.
Lucia smiled coldly.
But that was the thing about John, a lot like the rest of him. He was quick to bounce back because he had to in this life. Nothing could keep him down for too long.
“Fine, if you don’t want to talk to me, then you can listen,” John said, fixing his jacket and turning his gaze on her again. Instead of spinning back around in her seat to stare out the window once more, Lucia chose to stare right back at her brother. She hoped and prayed and fucking wished all that hate she was feeling shone through in her eyes. She wanted him to see it, and to know. Nothing would hurt her brother—once, her best friend—worse. And right then, that’s all she wanted to do. Just fucking hurt him.
He’d hurt her, after all.
He did this to her.
Took her away.
Took away what she wanted.
Hurt Renzo.
Scared Diego.
Her list could go on and on. That was the problem. Add onto that with the fact John didn’t seem to be aware of how he’d hurt Lucia by doing what he did, and she just wasn’t interested in having this conversation with him. He thought he was right; she knew he was wrong. It would only led to more heartache for her when she told him again and again what he’d done, and he continued to give her excuse after excuse for it all.
A dead fucking end.
Kind of like her life right now.
John never once thought to listen to her, or cared about what she wanted. All he cared about was doing their father’s bidding. That was a whole other problem to deal with at another time. Soon, likely. Probably the moment she stepped off the plane and was faced with her waiting father.
Lucia couldn’t say how she was going to react, then. Figure it out when the time came, she supposed.
“Listen,” John repeated. “Listen to me, okay? I know that the two of you thought you got off scot-fucking-fr
ee, but here’s a reality check, Lucia … you didn’t. His face was on the news. His name is being spread around the fucking country. Do you get that? The police were coming for him. What do you think would have happened when they finally caught up with Renzo, and you were there with him, too, huh?”
Lucia said nothing.
John didn’t seem to care as he continued on with, “How many steps do you think it would have taken them before they figured out your involvement in his mess, too? Is that what you wanted? We’re fucking helping you here. Or … trying. I’m not going to say it’s a bad thing that I got you away from him, too, because clearly, you don’t think about anything when you’re with him. You make stupid choices and do equally stupid fucking things. Jesus, are you even listening to me right now?”
Oh, she heard him.
Loud and clear.
Lucia would rather be locked up because she stayed with Renzo than free without him because her family came behind them to clean up any evidence of her involvement with him.
Not that John would understand.
He didn’t.
“I don’t care about anything you have to say,” Lucia said, shrugging. “So, why should I care to listen, John? When I asked you to stop … when I asked you to let me go … you didn’t listen to me. Give me one good reason why you think I should give a damn now, and listen to you.”
Because she couldn’t find one.
Not a single fucking reason to do what he asked.
He did that.
Not her.
“Because I am your brother—your blood. Family,” John said, like she needed a reminder. “And family loves one another. They protect one another. That’s what we’re doing here, Lucia. That’s why I came.”
She kept staring.
Blank.
Cold.
Empty.
Fucking dead.
Her reply came out barely above a whisper, but she knew he heard it. That’s what mattered most to her. “If that’s how you love me, then you can keep it. I don’t want it, John.”
“Lucia, you don’t mean that, now. You’re mad, and not thinking clearly, that’s all. Give it some time. We’ll come back to this.”
No, they wouldn’t.
And if they did, it would end the same way.
Better he learned it now.
“Choke on your fucking love for all I give a damn. How about that?”
He tried to talk again.
She just turned away.
She saw the clouds out the port window, but in her mind, she was looking at someone else. Or rather, looking for him.
Where was Renzo now?
Was he okay?
What about Diego?
Did Renzo know she was sorry?
God.
She was so fucking sorry for this.
• • •
Lucia was wrong. Her father hadn’t been standing there waiting for her when she stepped off the plane in New York. It was a brief moment of relief for her, she supposed. She still hadn’t been ready to face him, and she wasn’t sure how well she would have reacted if he was standing there waiting.
Instead, Lucian was standing on the front porch of their large home with her mother when John pulled into the driveway. At first, her brother didn’t put the car into park when he first pulled in. He kept a tight foot on the brakes to keep the car from going further, but without putting the vehicle into park, the doors also refused to unlock.
It basically forced her to stay in the car with him.
Lucia didn’t want to get out.
Not yet.
She also didn’t want to be near John.
What a mess.
“Just tell me why,” her brother murmured.
Lucia’s gaze drifted from the people waiting for her on the porch to her brother sitting in the driver’s seat. “Why, what?”
“Why you ran off with him. Why you … didn’t even think about calling me, Lucia. Or anyone, really. The first chance you got, you took off with him and didn’t look back. Like we meant fucking nothing to you. And now, look at you … pissed off, you won’t even talk to me despite the fact I’ve been running after you for weeks now. And why? To save your ass from getting put in jail, or worse. So yeah, the least you could do is tell me why.”
“I don’t owe you anything. I didn’t ask for anything, John.”
Her brother sighed. “Lucia—”
“But if you have to know, I went with him because there was no other place I wanted to be than right there with Renzo. I ran because I love him, and I don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand why. You think I didn’t care about you or the rest of them … you’re wrong. See, you just don’t see it the same way, John. You came after me; chased me down and dragged me back here because why? Love, that’s why. I went with him for the same reason. It might not be the same to you, but there’s no difference for me.”
“Then I was right. We don’t matter to you. Your family … we never mattered.”
Lucia shook her head. “You do … they’d make the same choice, too. Daddy, well, he’d run for Ma. She’d run for him. You don’t see it the same way—maybe you can’t, I don’t know. I can’t make you understand, John. Love does that, not me. So, when you do finally get it … when you can look me in the face and know what you did, maybe I’ll care to listen. Or maybe it’ll be too fucking late.”
John put the car in park.
The doors unlocked.
Lucia couldn’t get out fast enough.
Unfortunately, stepping out of that car into cold, autumn wind only meant one thing. The next people she had to face were her parents. Standing side by side on the porch, her mother and father stared at her with stoic, stony expressions. No smiles—no joy. She imagined that she looked similar staring back at them.
Lead weighed down her feet, but somehow, she made them move. One single step at a time until she was climbing the stairs to her childhood home, and staring her parents right in the face. She wasn’t going to apologize. She wasn’t going to tell them she was sorry when she wasn’t.
Marcellos didn’t bow or bend.
Not even to one another.
“Lucia.”
Her mother spoke first. Soft, and whispered. Jordyn’s words almost got carried away in the light wind, but Lucia heard them nonetheless. She hadn’t realized how much she missed her mother until she was looking at Jordyn, and heard her voice. The worry shining back in her mother’s gaze, despite the fact she wasn’t smiling at Lucia, was as clear as day.
That was the one thing Lucia felt bad for.
The guilt was a killer.
“I’m okay, Ma,” Lucia murmured.
Jordyn nodded, and inched a little closer. Closing the distance between them with an outstretched hand, Jordyn brushed back the stray waves of hair that had fallen over Lucia’s shoulder. The soft touch reminded her first and foremost that her mother, no matter what … no matter how much pain and worry she caused … was always going to be her mother.
“Scared me to death,” Jordyn said thickly. “God, Lucia, you scared me to death.”
She still couldn’t apologize.
She’d choke on those goddamn words.
“I’m fine, though.”
“Now,” Jordyn said sharply.
Both of her mother’s hands came up then to grab Lucia on each side of her face to hold tight. It forced her to look her mother right in the eyes—there was no looking away. She could see the tears shining back, and her own unfeeling expression reflecting in her mother’s wet irises. Lucia couldn’t help but suck in a sharp inhale.
Not at how terrified her mother looked, or how tightly Jordyn was holding onto her like she was scared Lucia might bolt again … but because of how unaffected she felt in those moments. Dead, almost. There was a part of her that was missing, now. In her heart, it felt empty. Her soul? Entirely gone.
She couldn’t feel anything.
They took it away.
“Now, baby,” Jordyn repeated. “Bu
t you might not have been. Don’t you understand that?”
Lucia shook her head, but said nothing. Jordyn finally let her go, and like she was defeated, took a step back from Lucia. She might have been grateful for the distance, but she couldn’t focus on it long enough to feel anything but contempt as her father finally glanced her way. Since she stepped up on the porch, the only thing her father had done was stay quiet and look out over the driveway.
Into the darkness.
The void.
Now, he was looking at her.
“For what, Lucia?” he asked softly. “You did this for what—a man? All for him, hmm?”
“I—”
“For a man who will spend the unforeseeable future stuck in a prison cell,” her father continued like she hadn’t tried to talk at all. “That’s what you did this for. And you have the nerve to stand there without an explanation or an apology for your mother. Fuck me—I don’t need anything. But you don’t even have anything for her, Lucia. But that’s what you did all of this for—a man who is destined for a prison cell. How does that feel?”
If she felt cold, then her father was ice.
Lucia’s heart crumbled, sure, but not for her father.
Only for Ren.
Instead of replying to Lucian—he didn’t really want a response, anyway—Lucia headed past her parents, and disappeared into the house. No one followed behind her. She didn’t stop to take off her shoes, or to appreciate the home that had raised her. She simply navigated familiar halls and stairs until she found the room that no longer truly felt like hers.
She closed the door behind her.
She sat on the floor instead of the bed.
Only then did her heart shatter.
Only then did she cry.
And she broke.
All apart.
Into tiny pieces.
Alone.
Without.
And so empty.
She broke.
• • •
The days crawled by before Lucia really understood what was happening. One melted into two, then three, and four. It was like a daze had come to settle over her, and no matter what she tried to do to rid herself it, the bitch clung on. It kept her quiet, and stuck in her head. Replaying moment after moment, making her see mistake after mistake, and the only thing she knew for certain was that Renzo’s freedom had been sacrificed for hers.
