After the doc had bandaged me, I staggered to my feet, ignoring the stars dancing before my eyes, and headed toward the stairs.
I dragged myself into my room and fell into bed. Reaching for my cell, I considered sending Diego a text, but then I wasn’t sure what to write. I didn’t want him to think what happened bothered me, didn’t want to appear weak in front of anyone, even my best friend.
Dropping the cell, I stared at the ceiling. The silence bothered me today, when it never had before. Usually, I would have gone out and found a girl to fuck, but I wasn’t even in the mood for that. With slashed wrists and a head wound, I wouldn’t be able to deliver a satisfying performance. I’d probably pass out mid-fuck and bury the girl under my unconscious body.
For the first time in my life, I wanted someone at my side, if only for a few hours.
When I came down to breakfast, I heard Mom’s sniffling. “These poor boys,” she said thickly.
“These boys are the men who rule over the West Coast with relentless brutality, Claudia,” Dad said. “They survived Benedetto, they’ll survive this and probably get out of it stronger than before.”
“What’s going on?” I asked when I entered.
Nonna sat at the table, praying the Holy Rosary, her eyes squeezed shut.
Diego paced the room with a deep frown. Dad had his arm wrapped around Mom’s shoulder who was crying, which didn’t necessarily mean something horrible had happened.
Dad and Diego exchanged a look, deciding if this was something I was allowed to know about. Toni would give me the dirty details later anyway, but recently it annoyed me that my family still treated me like I couldn’t handle anything.
“The Camorra is under red alert because of an incident in the Falcone mansion,” Dad said.
“What incident?”
Diego took out his phone, checking his messages before he shoved it back into his pants. “Nera Falcone tried to kill her sons.”
“Again?” I gasped. “What happened? Did someone get hurt?” The stories of Mother Falcone’s craziness still made the rounds. When Benedetto had still been in power, people hadn’t dared discuss the events, but since Remo had taken over, that had changed.
“She had the support of a few traitors,” Dad said carefully. “We don’t know details yet, but Remo called for a meeting of every Camorrista in Vegas. Diego and I’ll have to leave soon.”
Diego nodded. “I’ll grab a jacket.”
I quickly followed after him when he left the kitchen. “How’s Savio?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t written yet.”
I grabbed his arm. “Diego, are you stupid? You should ask him if he’s all right. He’s your friend.”
Diego shook me off. “If I do, that sounds as if I think he’s weak. Gemma, he’s my friend, but he’s also a Falcone. He and his brothers rule over the Camorra. He won’t tell me even if he isn’t all right. And I’m going to see them at the meeting in Roger’s Arena anyway.”
I didn’t get it. If Savio’s mother had tried to kill him and his brothers, that must have shaken him up, Falcone or not.
“Stay out of Savio’s business, Gemma. I warn you.”
The moment Dad and Diego had left for their meeting, I rushed to my room and grabbed my phone from my sock drawer. Even though Savio and I didn’t train together anymore, unless I accompanied Diego for his work out—which still happened occasionally—I still had Savio’s number. Maybe Diego couldn’t text his friend for some stupid testosterone codex, but I was a girl.
Before doubts could overcome me, I quickly typed in a message and send it off.
Hey Savio,
I hope you are all right. I’m so sorry about what happened. If you need anything at all or want someone to talk to, I am here.
Kitty
In the beginning his nickname had bothered me, but it had grown on me, because Savio was the only one who called me by that name. When I didn’t get a reply after a few minutes, worry filled me. Maybe I’d crossed a line? Savio and I weren’t really friends. We were… I wasn’t even sure.
My phone beeped, almost giving me a heart attack. Stomach tightening, I checked Savio’s reply.
Thanks, Kitty. The only thing I need is that delicious almond cake your Nonna bakes. ;-)
I knew he was joking, but giddy about his reply, I headed downstairs. Mom had left to go grocery shopping. Whenever something horrible happened, she cooked up a storm as if delicious food could cancel out all the darkness in the world. Nonna was asleep on the sofa, the rosary still clutched in her hand. I went over to her and covered her with a blanket. She must have taken the news the hardest, after all, Dad’s brother was killed by traitors shortly after Remo came into power.
I slipped inside the kitchen and grabbed everything for the cake. I’d baked it countless times with Nonna, so I knew what to do by heart. Toni sent me a message while I waited for the cake to bake.
Please be at your phone! Did you hear what went on with the Falcones?
I called her. She probably knew the details nobody bothered to tell me. “Spill.”
“Adamo helped his mother escape the mental hospital she was in and then she ran away, and forced Savio, Nino, and Remo to cut their wrists!”
I swallowed. “What?”
“I couldn’t believe it either. But Dad told me. They’re all wearing bandages over their wrists to cover the cut. Can you believe it? If I ever complain about my mother again, remind me of Nera Falcone.” The official version was that Toni’s mom had died in a car accident when in truth she’d run off with a Frenchman.
I tried to imagine how Savio must be feeling now. His own mother had forced him to cut his wrist. That was barbaric and cruel. “Are you at the Arena?”
“You know about the meeting?”
“Hmm.”
“Dad didn’t allow
