Chapter 51

"The similarities are undeniable, Mark."

"Indeed, their characteristics, the violence, even how each was left out on strips of heavy traffic to be found by the public."

"Really, today is a sad and unforgettable day for all of Florida."

"Authorities have not released any information about the victims, or the crimes committed, but advised caution and gave tips for public safety."

"We will be right back with"

Elio flipped the channel again and again, covering every newscast running the same story, proving a point.

Quickly, I ended any feeling that arose, cutting off any emotion that I could be capable of. Disconnected and heartless.

This world wasn't ready for it.

"Turn it off."

Silence surrounded us, but my mind reeled with the news reporter's voices over and over. A fucking repeat of the gravity and publicity, out for the law's eyes. The lives robbed of ordinary people, to women who weren't part of a war I'd created.

"This is messy, Massimo. The entire syndicate will now be involved," Elio rushed. "Rules will be enforced, every fucking move scrutinized by every family. Hell, our own fucking backyard will be questioned."

Elio couldn't stop firing every thought, deranged with the need to ease his troubled devil without an order to unleash it.

"Have you spoken to Vadim?" I asked, ignoring his worries and working on a plan.

"Yes, and he has been in contact with Davina's father."

"What does the chief know?"

Elio's face sombered. "Brown long hair, green eyes, slender build."

Breathe. I forced myself into emptiness.

"Physically battered until a full clip of lead was emptied into their bodies." His eyes slid to mine. "A coordinated killing spree. Three in Miami, two just outside the city limits."

I turned.

"You can't go tonight. It's too big a risk, Massimo!" Elio became desperate.

I ignored him and unzipped my garment bag.

"Your appearance is publicly known!"

Not giving a fuck by his presence, I undressed down to my black boxer briefs and changed into my tuxedo.

"Massimo!"

I laid my untied bow around my neck and straightened.

Elio had forgotten his place within this family, forgotten who I was, and it was my own doing.

Facing him, I said. "I will never hide. You should know better."

"So you are willing to risk Alessandra by taking her with you after seven women have died just because of her existence? If she dies, their deaths are useless!"

Rage surged in violent waves of ire. The taste of copper filled and lingered in my mouth with the bile of Alessandra's name and death spoken in the same sentence.

But I showed nothing behind my harsh features.

"If she dies, it is not just those deaths, Elio. Can't you see, I will be next? Followed by you, Nate, Vadim, and even Davina," I spat callously. "We will be picked one by one, faster than Leonardo's illness takes him." Placing my guns roughly into their holsters, I sneered. "I fucking know the effect of every move and possibility. That's why I don't barge into rooms." I point to the door he'd entered. "Why, I think before I act. Because I think about all of you fuckers! Even a damn Zanetti."

I stood in front of him, outraged. "So don't question me, Elio. Instead, do what you do best, and fix the problem. Find a bastard to punish if that's what you need and return to the under boss I need."

Elio's lips curled.

"I count on you to see danger as your playground, so why are you so unraveled now?"

"Because, as your head of safety, you are not listening to my advice!"

"Watch your tone, Elio." Our eyes fought.

"You will get her killed."

My demon won.

Elio didn't flinch, but his head reared to the right with the force of my fist. His eyes closed briefly before they cut mine, and I challenged them.

The corner of his brow dripped with blood, and while most believed him to be a devil, he was just a mere human who bled. He, too, needed the reminder.

He touched his split skin with a conflicting smile and brought his fingers together in front of him, watching the violet-red liquid smear messily between his fingertips.

"That was for yesterday. Touch her again, or go against my orders and" My jaw clenched. I couldn't bring myself to threaten him out loud.

And I detested myself for feeling the division he created inside me.

Damn him.

Elio was the first human I'd spoken to after months of silence. The home for boys didn't question it, and the home didn't bother to take their time with the new kid. In those months and years of mental and physical abuse, I cherished my years of freedom. I didn't miss the childhood I spent running and looking over my shoulder. The years of cold nights and stomach hunger pains. I missed the miserable freedom I knew. Because inside the cruel and low-funded institute of the forgotten, we were treated like pesticides, and out in the world, I at least had my mother.

I'd waited for her return like a wounded animal, staring out every window that faced the spot I'd last seen her walking away from me. But she never came back, and I turned toward the pain given by the warden. At least then, I knew I felt something. But Elio didn't know what existed outside the stone walls. He didn't recognize the leery and longing eyes that were not normal. That pain wasn't the only feeling we were capable of.

Soft cries greeted me as I stepped into my room. There were six of us. Cramped in spring cots and stained sheets that were only changed when men in suits came in. Shiny shoes, clipboards, and wrinkled noses. No one looked you in the eye.

I was the last one who had been granted a shower. The only one who didn't fear stepping into the creeping hallways at night. Us six were around the same age, but the seventh kid who didn't belong in our bunk appeared younger. He was capable of hiding from sight by his small frame in the dark corner.

Five pairs of eyes watched my every move, the whites of their eyes shining as bright as the moon, calculating. Waging. We weren't close, and they knew better than to speak to me.

I stood above the young boy, and his soft cries hushed.

"How old are you?" My voice cracked.

Surprised by its tone and hearing my voice again, I sat next to his curled body. The cool stone felt pleasant against my back. This place seemed to always be too hot inside. Even with the windows cracked at night, the breeze reminded me of hell whispers. Fitting.

I stretched my long legs over the dusty floor and waited.

"Twelve," he whispered, but I noticed how he questioned it.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I regret not using the glass to end it instead."

What? I peered over at him, questioning his words. The boy stirred lightly and so quietly that it wasn't until I met his red-rimmed eyes that I realized he'd moved to stare at me.

He was odd. His speech, his aura, his mind.

"We don't have an extra cot."

"It doesn't matter."

He accepted it easily.

Many would fight for it, or prey on the smaller kid. He didn't seem to want to do either.

The boy slowly lifted his head and bent his body to mirror my position on the floor. He struggled with each movement. He was in pain.

He remained in the shadow, his features hard to decipher, but it was his labored breathing that gave him away. Taking a closer look at him, I saw it. The clinginess of his shirt and the dark stain over his torso.

"You're bleeding."

"I am. The nurse may clean it in the morning."

"Why?" I asked. But I didn't mean the nurse.

"I told you."

I regret not using the glass to end it instead.

"You did that to yourself?" I asked.

"Yes. It made me ugly." His teeth slid over his smile. It wasn't over happiness, it was formed by broken thoughts.

I didn't say anything else. I understood. He'd jarred his body to escape his suffering. Little did he know, ugly and evil were lovers.

That night, I helped the boy whose name I'd learned was Elio. Offered my cot and sat at the end, watching him fight his demons in his sleep. And as days passed, an unspoken bond faded into our miserable lives. I gave him most of my food, he needed it more. We didn't speak much those first days.

Words weren't needed when two were broken.

And as the boys came and went as quickly as they showed, Elio snatched the cot to my right.

It felt normal, to have the wall against me, and him on the other.

He never mentioned that night, and often I wondered what he meant by "ending it." Ending what?

The creator of his nightmares?

The monster that stalked his eyes when closed?

Quickly, I learned he'd referred to himself.

That night, a boy regretted living, because even after scarring his body, he cried, understanding the damage was deeper than what the glass was capable of slicing through.

That night, the boy cried for breathing.

That night, the boy did die.

It wasn't too soon after that he embraced his darkness, and we found the two brothers we didn't know were missing.

We never fought.

Never raised a fist.

Never allowed anything to come between us.

And after long nights in our room learning each other's languages, I watched the lost boys before me, hanging on to every word I spoke. Not a trace of innocence poured from their lost eyes. All of us were different, and yet identical.

But as the youngest, Vadim, held on to my tattered pants with bright blue eyes when his brother wasn't around, did I comprehend, I would do anything for them three.

Hurting them would be hurting myself.

It wasn't until I was leaving, and I had Leonardo tear my siblings' folder from the head of hell's fingers, that I realized why Elio and I shared similarities.

He was a full Italian.

He was given to the state of Florida at the age of two after his parents were killed by stray bullets from the same family he would soon work for.

I returned for him first, not because I didn't want to tear the other two away from such misery, but because I had no power to do it.

Power was what I strived for from that day on. Control.

Elio had filled out, and his height neared my eighteen-year-old body even if he was two years younger. His features were absent from any gentle lines and replaced by a stone-like appearance.

He'd walked into the room, missing the Velcro dark gray sack many left with. Apart from the clothes he wore, he left everything behind.

He had nothing.

And what I could offer wasn't better.

Leonardo left us alone inside the musky release room. But not after reminding me with his eyes of how much I could share out loud.

"You don't owe me anything. You can walk out of these walls and try living for once. I will always check up on you, and I can help you get started."

"Or?"

I gazed into his eyes, seeing nothing but emptiness.

"Or you can come with me. But I must say, my life isn't mine, and yours won't be either. What I do is not something I'd planned, but what had always been meant to be. It's ugly, painful. Cruel."

"Next to you?"

I nodded.