Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Francesca, our sister, walks in and sit beside me. She’s beautiful, with long dark hair and porcelain skin. She’s much fairer than her brothers but with the same brown eyes. I put my arm around her and pull her close. “You okay, baby?”
“Not really.” Her tear-filled gaze falls to the fire.
I hold her close. “Where’s Mamma?”
“Inside.” Her eyes find mine. “Are we going to be all right, Rico… without Dad?”
My heart sinks and I hold her closer. “Of course, angel. I’ll make sure of it. You’re safe, I’ll look after us now. I’m here. Lean on me.”
She holds me as she cries, and I close my eyes to my own pain.
The four of us, the Ferrara children, sit around the fire, and we weep.
I sit at the table wearing my black suit. I’m waiting for my mother to get ready for her husband’s funeral.
The house is deadly silent.
When my father passed, he left a hole.
His jovial laughter is missing—his wise face, too. His deep voice and the way that he made everyone around him feel loved have gone.
His strength.
He’s deeply missed, and I am empty.
I have nothing left to offer. Grief is all I can see.
Lorenzo has stepped up and taken over for us. He’s caring for our family, easing our pain as much as he can.
My mother is quiet, pensive, and barely holding it together. The pain on her face is unbearable.
Francesca is heartbroken and won’t speak at all. When she does, it’s through her tears. She’s only fifteen years old—way too young to be left without a father. I die a little inside every time I look at her.
“Your mother is nearly ready,” Lorenzo says behind me.
I nod, the lump in my throat hurting. “How do we do this?”
Lorenzo falls into the chair beside me and closes his eyes. He, too, is in pain.
“How do we say goodbye?” I whisper.
“We put one foot in front of the other and do what we need to do.”
“Then what?”
His eyes rise. “We avenge their deaths, Enrico,” he whispers. “We have the names. We know who is responsible. Let us take them out.”
His profile is blurred as I stare at him through tears.
“We can’t go forward without your lead, son.”
I drop my head, defeated. “I can’t take over. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Yes, you can… and in time, you will. Give us the go-ahead to take care of this, Enrico, I’m begging you.”
We’ve had this conversation every day now. He won’t give up. Hunger for revenge is his only goal. I drag my hands through my hair in despair. My father’s men want to start a war. They want my approval to kill the men responsible for their deaths.
I’m the only one who can give it, but I know that once I consent, I’m agreeing to taking over. To this lifestyle. To turning into something I despise.
The Don, leader of darkness.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I glance down. The name Olivia lights up the screen and my heart constricts. My beautiful angel. The only person I do want to see is the one that I can’t. I put my phone back into my pocket. I can’t speak to her right now. Not until I’m stronger. If I do, I’ll cry like a baby.
I don’t want her to feel my pain through the phone, because she would. She’s so in tune with me that I couldn’t hide my heart from her. I’m not whole anymore.
When my father died, he took a piece of me with him.
The best part.
He took my belief that I was good.
I stand and stare at the coffin as it sits in the ground. Dark rosewood against dirt.
My father is inside.
Cold and lifeless.
My mother’s soft sobs can be heard beside me. My brothers huddle together in their united grief.
Francesca’s hand is in mine. She won’t let me go.
We’ve already buried my grandfather, now it’s Dad’s turn.
In a daze, I look around and see the thousands of men surrounding us, crying.
They’re mourning their leaders. They’re pledging their allegiance to us, the Ferrara’s.
These men have been loyal to the death.
The priest passes us all a red rose, and I watch on as my mother, with tears streaming down her face, kisses the rose and bends to place it on my father’s coffin.
Adrenaline begins to surge through me.
Why?
I hold Francesca’s hand as she sobs out loud. My heart breaks watching her. She kisses the rose and bends to copy my mother. She puts her head down, leans onto the coffin, and she begins to sob. I bend and pick her up to hold her tight.
A strange detachment falls over me as we go through the processes one by one.
It’s like I’m not even here anymore—as if I’m watching from up above.
Twenty minutes later, with the funeral over and a swell of well-wisher’s kissing my family, I look over to Andrea and Matteo, and I nod.