Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
The regret.
Everything I prayed for, he showed to me. Anxiously searching for any remnants of his son with nothing but a reminiscent glare of the boy he raised and the man I’d become. I envisioned my childhood flashing before his eyes.
Each milestone.
Each achievement.
Each pillar in our relationship.
Each stepping stone.
Each discovery.
Each breakthrough.
Leading us back to this turning point, the here and now where everything rapidly changed between us. His demons emerged, darkening the small space. It all hit him so fucking hard. His worst nightmare just played out in front of him, dragging him under, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel it.
There wasn’t an inch of my skin that didn’t feel his love, and hatred.
Unable to take it anymore, he bit, “What the fuck did you do?”
What did he expect?
No matter what I did, I couldn’t win. I lost, but the truth was…
I didn’t care.
His opinion was null and void.
“I saved your fucking life.” Before he could say another word, I walked over to Sergey and placed the barrel of my gun under his chin. Proving my point.
I’d be better than him.
“Last chance, motherfucker.”
Cowering away from me, Vinny shut his eyes tight. I rammed the Glock deeper into his flesh.
“Look me in the eyes when I’m talking to you.”
He did.
I never understood until this very moment why my father always wanted us to stare into his eyes. They were the windows to a person’s soul I’d own.
“On second thought.” I shoved my gun into his mouth, he choked. “Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” Pulling the trigger, I blew his goddamn brains out,.
I was done playing games. I got what I came for.
His blood on my hands.
Chapter 13
—Sienna—
Two months later
“Uncle Gino! I want to speak to my father!”
“Sienna, how many times do I have to tell you he’s not here?”
“As many as it takes for him to come home!” I knew I was being irrational, but I couldn’t put up with this bullshit anymore. “I haven’t seen my horse in almost two months! I’m not allowed to leave the house! I’m a prisoner in my own home all because some girl, I don’t even know, gets taken on our property? This has nothing to do with me and everything to do with Martinez’s family. Now, why am I getting dragged into something that didn’t even happen to ours?”
“We don’t know that, Sienna. Adriana hasn’t been found yet.”
“Again, why is this my problem?” I knew I sounded like a bitch, but I was tired of having my life dictated by someone else’s problems.
“It happened on our turf.”
“Yeah! To Martinez! Not to us! I need to see Massimo, Uncle Gino. I’ve never gone this long without riding him.”
“Your father is making sure someone is tending to your black stallion.”
Massimo was my prize possession. All I had that was completely mine. Papà gave him to me when I was eight-years-old, he was only a colt back then. I’d been riding horses since I could walk, and I finally received something that no one could take away from me.
“It’s not the same, Uncle Gino, and you know it. Massimo doesn’t like anyone but me. He goes crazy if someone he doesn’t know tries to feed him. How do you think he’s going to react to someone else riding him? If something happens to my horse, I’ll never forgive Papà! Massimo is all I have.”
“Enough with the dramatics, Sienna.”
“Dramatics?” I asked, growing more furious and exasperated.
“You know that’s not true. You have your father, your uncles, your family.”
“My family has the mafia. I don’t come first, mafia does.”
“It’s all the same.”
“Not to me!”
Why didn’t anyone ever understand my side of things?
It was as if I was talking to a wall. At least with Uncle Gino, I could express my frustrations. He wasn’t my real uncle, however he was El Capo’s right-hand man and that was thicker than blood. If he wasn’t near my father, then he was by my side. I spent more time with him than I did Papà. He was there when I was born and carried the title of my godfather.
In Italian culture family is everything. My father’s love and devotion were never up for debate. I was his whole world but so was La Famiglia. We went hand-in-hand. It didn’t matter what I said or how I felt about any situation. At the end of the day, whatever decisions my father thought were in my best interest, ruled over any words or emotions that poured out of my heart and soul.
I was trapped and there was nothing I could do about it. The only peace of mind I had was my eighteenth birthday which was still a month away. I’d be an adult by the law. I could make my own life choices with or without El Capo’s consent. I dreamed about that day, being free of this life—of purgatory where fulfillment for a woman came in the form of who you were married to and birthing a son to carry on the name and legacy of these made men.