Chapter 8

LUCCA

“I think we’re done here. Everything looks like it’s in order but keep watching him,” I say and study my friend’s face.

“You don’t have to ask. I’m already on it.” Jon bows his sandy blond head.

“Good, let’s do this and get it done once and for all. This motherfucker will try and pull everything out of his ass to save himself.”

“I know, Boss. We’re prepared for that. Alexei is checking over Raphael’s allies in his political circle and the underground.”

“Alright, I don’t have anything more for us to do yet.”

We spoke earlier about the next steps. Jon will keep watching, and Alexei will keep digging with the other men in my crew.

I have all bases covered so I can focus on the places where I’m needed.

“Everything okay at home with the girl?”

I chuckle. “Don’t worry, I can handle her.”

I say that, but I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to deal with Aria.

The last time we saw each other, I knew I wasn’t going to be in her life for very long. After discovering Aria’s mother transferred the company to her, I posed the new plan to Damien with marriage in the cards. That’s when the countdown began. Of course, with setbacks such as her accident and her mother’s death.

Now I have her. A woman who will be my wife for business purposes, but I’d be a damn liar if I said I wasn’t going to make good on my word to fuck her.

“See you later, Jon. Call me if anything changes.”

He nods and takes my place. I make my way down and jump on my bike. I have one more place I have to go to before I head home.

Today I took the Kawasaki Ninja 400 that Timothy, and I had been working on before he died. I modified it recently to go faster. I’m riding it today for him.

I speed to Pacific View Memorial Park, the cemetery where he and his family are buried. When I get to the gravesite, I pull out Raphael’s ring from my back pocket, and I stare at the three grave tablets made from marble. The gold writing on each shimmers in the descending sunlight. It’s beautiful, and the little waterfall just behind them, breathtaking. To me, though, when I come here, I’ll always be in that morgue looking at the remains of my best friend and the beautiful family he had.

All these years have passed, and I still don’t know why he died.

I hold up the ring and show it to him.

“My friend, the plan is in motion to bring the devil down,” I say with a determined nod. “Vengeance will be done soon. I promise you.”

With that, I place the devil’s ring to my heart and leave with the vow that the next time I come here, I’ll be able to tell my friend and his family that I avenged their deaths.

It’s nighttime when I get home.

Marylin is in the living room. I don’t expect her to still be here, but she stays behind when she thinks I might need her.

She’s been doing that since I was a boy. That’s how long I’ve known her.

She lived in the cottage by the lake on the grounds of the estate and has continued to do so all these years so she could look after the house.

She tended to my mother’s roses and my father’s birds.

She continued to work like my family were still alive because of the sense of loyalty she’s always had to them. I think she was the only person who was happy to see me come back.

She stands when she sees me, and I school my thoughts so I don’t look worse than I might in her eyes.

Without saying too much, Marylin was briefed with enough information on my vendetta against Raphael. I told her he was a threat to the Bratva, and I was doing my job to eliminate him. She doesn’t know the fine print details, but what she will know is that taking a woman against her will and pulling all sorts of strings of shit to sign her life away is always going to be wrong.

Needless to say, Marylin is not overly fond of what I’m doing with Aria. In her years of service, I’m sure she would have seen my father do some unsavory things too, but not like me.

My father was a family man. I am not.

“Anything happen while I was away?” I ask.

“No. Aria has stayed in the bedroom. At least she’s eating, though.”

“Anything else?”

She straightens and sets her shoulders back. “Anything else would be me expressing my opinion, so it’s best I say nothing.”

“I have you on board, right, Marylin?” I shouldn’t have to ask, but I need to make sure there are no chinks in this iron-clad plan I’ve concocted.

Most people who work for men like me are well versed in keeping their silence and not expressing any form of opinion one way or the other.

It’s only because she’s like a mother to me that she thinks she can talk like that.

“Of course, moya kroshka,” she answers with the Russian pet name she gave me when we first met—my little one. I haven’t been anybody’s little one in so long it feels like she’s talking about somebody else. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I dip my head and allow her to leave. I could have insisted she tell me what she thought, but I don’t want to hear it.

I make my way up to my bedroom, preparing to see the girl from my childhood once more.

It’s later now.

She’s not there when I walk into the room, but I can see the door leading to the terrace slightly open.

I walk up to it and find her sitting on the porch in the corner by the fan palm trees.

She has her knees hugged to her chest and her head resting on top of her knees.

I’m not sure if she’s crying. I can’t hear her like I did earlier, and she’s not moving. She’s just sitting there in that defeated position like she’s accepted death.

Like her father, Aria is unaware she’s being watched and hasn’t sensed my presence.

I know she was putting on a brave face earlier. I know she’s fucking terrified of me even though I’m the guy she used to run to when she was afraid.

She must be frightened of what I might do to her.

The ghosts whisper to me to let her be, let her process what happened today. So I’ll give her tonight for old times’ sake.

***

ARIA

“Wait for me,” I call out, giggling as I run through the tall grass in the field.

I run as fast as my legs can carry me, and I’m answered with laughter that instantly fills me with happiness.

The radiant sun beams down before me, and in the bright light, I see him.

Peter.

His wild brown hair billows in the wind, and those misty gray eyes sparkle with life as he races ahead of me toward the lake.

“Told you, your legs are too little to catch up with me,” he shouts back.

I run faster when he starts laughing harder. I agree my legs are little in comparison to his. But I’m nine, and he’s twelve. I’m short, and he’s a giant.

My giant.

The silver-eyed boy who always takes me to our very own Neverland.

“Peter, that’s not fair.” I wince.

“Why isn’t it fair, Aria? Run faster.”

“I’m trying.” I start to pant. “Please don’t leave me.”

As I speak those words, he stops by the great oak tree with the scary-looking leaves. It always reminds me of the trees in the book about the enchanted woods Mama got me.

He jogs back to me and crouches down so I can get on his back.

“Come on, and I’ll give you a ride. We have to be quick, or we won’t see them.”

I get on his back, securing my hands around his neck, and I rest my head against his.

He touches my arm and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. When he does things like that, sometimes I wonder if he knows—if he knows how I feel about him.

I think he does.

He straightens up then starts running with me. We go into the woods, and I see an old barn ahead of us.

“Are they in here?” I ask.

“Yes.”

He sets me down when we get up to the grand wooden doors. I watch as he slides them open, and then I see the large metal cage with the birds inside. Birds I’ve never seen before.

There are five of them, each sitting on wooden stumps.

They’re quite big with blue-gray wings, dark brown backs, and white faces that have a black stripe across their cheeks. Their beaks are hooked, and their talons fierce.

Peter looks at them with fascination.

“What are they?”

“Peregrine falcons. Father uses them for hunting. Let’s take a closer look.” He walks into the cage, and I get wary.

When he puts out his arm, the biggest one jumps onto his hand like it was trained to do that. When it opens its wings, I step back.

Peter comes out of the cage with it, and I bring my hands together nervously.

“Come closer,” he beckons.

“I’m a little scared.”

“I will never let anything happen to you.”

I believe him, so I walk closer.

“Go on stroke his head. He won’t bite.” He lowers the falcon so I can stroke the soft feathers on its head, and it allows me to.

I smile then look up at Peter, who’s already watching me. “Well done.”

He lifts his hand, and the falcon stretches its wings wider.

“Uspoykoysya,” he mutters, and the bird takes off.

“What did you say to it?”

“Calm down. It’s a language we speak to them, and they listen. Aria, it’s getting dark. We have to say goodbye now.”

“No. Don’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry.”

My eyes fly open, and I find myself staring at a very cautious-looking Marylin standing before me.

I look about and see it’s a bright morning. It’s then I realize I fell asleep outside on the porch, and … Lucca didn’t come for me.

Later never came.