Twisted Hearts by Cora Reilly

Gemma 15, Savio 19

My head was throbbing and my vision kept turning black, but I fought against unconsciousness. I needed to be ready to fight. Fabiano slanted me a searching look. I gave a small nod even though it sent a stab through my brain. I could tell Fabiano was trying to loosen the cord binding his arms to his back.

I glanced toward the door when Remo and Nino walked in, led into the room by the traitors my mother had hired to do her dirty work.

Mother stepped up to Kiara and Alessio, Nino’s wife and adopted baby boy, threatening them with a lighter. I hadn’t been able to stop her from dousing them with gasoline earlier when several assholes had attacked me at once. “You are going to put down all of your weapons, or they’ll both burn.”

“We took their weapons,” Carmine said. If I got the chance, I’d shove my knife into his traitorous throat.

“No, no, you didn’t. I know Benedetto’s sons,” Mother said with a smile that raised the little hairs at the back of my head. It was difficult to believe that his madwoman was our own flesh and blood, except for the horrid reminder of her having the same gray eyes as Nino.

“We are your sons too,” I said, because she seemed to forget that little fact. Maybe we were fucked up, but a huge part of why was because of her. Reaching up, I lightly touched the side of my head. My fingers came away red. Fuck. Those assholes had hit me good.

Mother didn’t even look at me. She had only eyes for Remo and Nino. “A gunshot could set Kiara and her boy on fire too. A little spark and everything goes up in flames, do you really want to risk it? Hear their agonized screams?”

Carmine took the guns from my brothers, and for the first time, a flicker of worry filled me. I’d trusted in Remo and Nino finding a solution to this mess. They always did. They had ripped Las Vegas from the hands of unworthy men. They had fought for our birthright, for our territory, for our legacy when nobody had believed in the name Falcone. For a while I’d been sure they were invincible. Many Camorrista still did. But there was one thing that had the power to destroy them and she stood in the middle of the room like a martyr.

“What did you promise them to do your bidding?” Nino asked.

Mother smiled. “Money. Power. Revenge.”

“Power,” Remo scoffed. “Do you really think my men will follow either of you? They’ll laugh into your pitiful faces and then smash them in. And even if you manage to seize power by some stroke of luck, you won’t have it for long. Luca will wipe the floor with assholes like you and just claim the Camorra for himself.”

“We’ll see,” Carmine said.

“Help him to his feet,” Mother said, nodding at me but still not meeting my eyes. This was about her and Remo mainly. We all knew it. Remo was our father’s son more than each of us. Mother had been too weak to kill our father, the man who’d tormented her, and so she tried to kill the next best thing: his sons.

One of the traitors grabbed my arm and tried to drag me to my feet. I headbutted him despite the following agony and was rewarded by the satisfying sound of his breaking nose. “Go fuck yourself, motherfucker.” I grinned when the bloody asshole pointed his gun at me.

Our mother waved the lighter. “I told you. They’ll burn.”

I stood. I didn’t want to be responsible for Kiara’s and Alessio’s death. Pain shot through my ankle when I put my weight on it. I must have twisted it at some point.

“Where’s Adamo?” Mother asked, flicking the lighter open, causing Kiara to flinch. Mother smiled manically.

“He disappeared after you tricked him into helping you,” Nino said.

Adamo could be such a fucking fool. I’d told him several times that he should stay away from our mother, but he wouldn’t listen. He had to believe in the good in people. Maybe now he’d finally understand that most people were assholes. Remo and Nino always justified his stupidity because he was young, but when I’d been sixteen, I hadn’t been this fucking naïve.

“Poor boy,” Mother said as if she actually cared, as if she was capable of empathy. “He’s weak, lost. He isn’t like you or Benedetto.” She looked at Remo. “What about those kids and wife of yours, Remo? Where are they?”

Remo’s nostrils flared.

“Everyone knows about that kidnapped girl and those twins that look like you,” she continued. “Especially that boy. Your spitting image. Your tainted blood.”

Everyone knew about Nevio. He was the spitting image of Remo and that wasn’t where their resemblance ended. Mother didn’t know it, but the boy who was most likely to continue our father’s legacy was Nevio. If she wanted our tainted blood to end, she would have to kill him.

Remo gave her a wide grin, full of maniac darkness. “You know me, don’t you? You really think I could ever have a woman in my life without killing her?”

Mother tilted her head and closed the lid of the lighter. “You killed her?”

“Her and those useless kids.”

Mother didn’t know any of us. She only lived for herself. We lived for each other. Each of us would die for the other. Remo would cut himself into tiny pieces before he’d hurt Serafina or his twins.

“Why don’t you douse us with gasoline? That way you can guarantee we don’t act out of turn and you can let Kiara and Alessio go,” Nino suggested.

Mother’s answering laugh raised goosebumps on my skin. I didn’t even remember the last time that had happened. “Oh no, no. I won’t let the past repeat itself. She stays. You’ll behave as long as she does. You don’t want her to get hurt, do you?”

“We need to hurry up here,” Carmine said, looking at Remo. “We don’t know if they didn’t alert their soldiers. As long as they still live, every fucking Made Man in the city will follow their command.”

“Okay, this is how it goes, boys. I want you to cut your wrists, all right?” Mother said, sounding as if she was talking about our plans for the fucking Christmas holidays.

I scoffed. Did she really think we’d go down without a fucking fight?

“I should have killed you right after they cut Adamo out of you. Father wouldn’t have stopped me. He would have found a new woman to terrorize,” Remo snarled.

Mother looked at Remo with a sorrowful smile. “And I should have killed you first, in your sleep, but I didn’t know how strong you were. I do now, my son.”

“Don’t call me that!” he roared, causing her to flinch.

“This could have been over many years ago. It must end this way, don’t you see?” Mother whispered. She opened the flap of the lighter. “All three of you will cut your wrists now. I’ll wait until you’ve passed out before I burn down the mansion and your bodies in it. If you don’t, I’ll burn her and the baby right in front of you and have my men shoot you anyway.”

“You’ll burn them anyway. The moment we’ve passed out, you’ll kill them,” Nino said, and for once, his emotionless mask was gone. It was still strange to see fear on my brother’s face when he hadn’t been capable of any emotions for as long as I could remember—until his wife, Kiara.

Our mother shook her head with a soft smile. “No, no, she’s a victim like I was, and the boy isn’t yours, so he can live as well. We have to go but not them, boys, don’t you see?”

She really thought she was doing the world a favor. She thought this was her task in life, when it was only her sick version of revenge on our father. “Fuck, if I’d known how batshit crazy you are, I would have killed you myself,” I said. I could have visited her in the mental institution Remo had kept her in these last few years and put a bullet in her head. For some reason, I’d preferred pretending she didn’t exist.

“See?” she said. “It’s in you like it is in them, like it was in your father.” She regarded us. She motioned at Carmine, who handed Nino a knife. “Either you’ll cut your wrists now, or I’ll burn them. I’ll count to three.”

Kiara began crying softly, rocking Alessio. She didn’t deserve any of this, nor did the kid. They both had gone through hell in their past, had been brutalized by the people meant to protect them.

Nino cut his wrists, not taking his eyes off his wife and son.

“No!” Kiara cried out, looking as if the knife had cut her flesh, not his.

“Two,” Mother counted. “Savio, Remo.”

Remo grasped the knife with a growl and cut his wrists. Of course, he did. Remo had burnt for us before. He’d die a thousand deaths if it meant protecting his family. Nino’s gaze met mine and I knew what was coming. Now it was my turn. Diego and I had planned to visit a house party this weekend. I’d looked at new cars. Nothing of that mattered today.

“Fuck.” I closed my eyes briefly. Remo and Nino didn’t fear death. It was their fucking disposition to have made peace with the inevitable end a long time ago. I’d preferred to ignore the possibility of dying. It had been a distant concept that didn’t concern me, even if I’d killed many men myself.

“One,” Mother warned. For some reason, Kitty’s laughter the last time we’d fought in the cage flitted through my mind.

I opened my eyes, tore the knife from Remo’s grip and slashed my wrists before I could lose my nerve and hate myself forever. Nino’s expression filled with relief.

I looked down at my wrists, at the red rivulets dripping down my palms and fingers. The sight of blood had never bothered me, not its smell or sticky feel either, and it didn’t today. Maybe I should have been scared of the unknown darkness ahead, but I felt a strange sense of calm. It could have been my head wound and the resulting dizziness, whatever it was: death didn’t bother me as much as I’d thought it would. And then everything went very fast. Suddenly Adamo barreled in, jabbing a knife into our mother’s back. We all sprang into action, overpowering the traitors.

When our mother took her last breath, killed by our knife, I could see peace descend on Remo’s and Nino’s face.

Shoulders hunched, I perched on the edge of the sofa, staring at the angry red marks on my forearms from cutting my wrists. The Camorra doc had stitched me up and soon bandages would cover up the wounds, not the memories though.

A tight sensation took hold of my chest, a mix of burning fury and numbing gloom. The former I could deal with, the latter annoyed the shit out of me. I glanced toward the corpse of our mother in the center of our living room. She’d invaded our home, our fucking lives, to kill us. Some people had mommy issues. That term didn’t even begin to describe the kind of fuckery we had to deal with. This was the second time she’d tried to kill my brothers and me. Our own fucking mother. Looking at her dead body now, I didn’t feel anything but rage. When other people got that warm feeling when thinking about the woman who gave birth to them, for me, there was only darkness and pain. The last time she’d tried to end our lives, I’d been too young to understand or remember, but Remo and Nino had carried the baggage of that day with them. My brothers were everything for me, but even I knew both of them teetered on the edge of insanity. No fucking wonder when your mother slit your wrists and tried to burn you alive. That had been many years ago, and today she’d tried again, and almost succeeded.

My brothers sought the closeness of their wives and children. Fabiano had left to pick up his girlfriend, Leona. Only Adamo and I were in our own bubble. Our eyes met, guilt and shame flashing across his face. Maybe he hoped for absolution, for me to walk over to him and tell him all was forgiven.

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 me to come. He said Remo Falcone is going to make an example out of one of the traitors in front of the other men. Dad said knowing the Capo, there would be blood, vomit and piss to clean later.”

I shuddered. I’d heard about the brutality of the Falcones but never witnessed it. “I’m baking a cake for Savio so he’ll feel better. I wanted to take it to the Arena.”

Toni was silent for a moment. “Don’t go inside. Just put it on his car, okay?”

“Okay. Since when are you the sensible one?”

“When Savio is concerned I have to be. You lose your head around him.”

The oven beeped. “I’m not losing my head. I have to go now. The cake is done.”

“I mean it, Gemma, be careful today, okay? You think Savio is a cute guy because that’s the side of him you know, but he’s a Falcone and Dad’s been dealing with him for a while now. After what happened yesterday, Savio’s probably still on edge and looking for an outlet. Don’t be that outlet.”

Toni sounded worried, but she really had no reason to. “It’ll be fine. I’ll message you when I get the chance.” I hung up and saved the cake from the oven before it turned too dark.

Once the cake had cooled slightly, I put the slices into the biggest Tupperware container we had and went into the backyard. I grabbed Diego’s old bike and headed out for the Arena. With a little luck, nobody from my family would notice my trip.

The parking lot in front of Roger’s Fight Arena was crowded with cars. There were a few luxury models around, but I didn’t see the copper Bugatti. Savio probably had a new car by now. I parked my bike in front of the entrance then hesitated. I couldn’t leave the container in front of the bar.

I took out my phone and sent Savio another message, telling him that I was in the parking lot.

A scream rang out inside, causing me to back off a few steps and shiver.

“This isn’t a place for you, Kitty.”

I jumped and whirled around. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” I said, pressing a palm to my chest. He must have used the backdoor. Facing Savio, my chest constricted. A bruise bloomed at the top of his head, and his forearms were bandaged, but these obvious injuries didn’t worry me. It was the look in his eyes that was off, a lurking darkness I’d never seen in them before. He wasn’t smiling or smirking, only regarding me with mild curiosity.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Tugging a strand behind my ear, I held out the Tupperware container.

Savio’s eyebrows rose.

“Almond cake,” I said.

He opened the lid and took a deep breath, then he smiled slightly. “Don’t tell me you forced your poor Nonna to bake for me.”

I flushed. “I baked it myself.”

Savio grabbed a piece and took a big bite, then he nodded. “They’re very good. Baking and fighting, you’ll make a man very happy one day.”

“I only want you.”

I hadn’t really just said that, had I? Judging from the brief flash of surprise on Savio’s face, I had. Heat shot into my head. Toni was right. I lost my head when I was around Savio. My heart had been his for years anyway.

Savio closed the container, regarding me in a way I didn’t understand. He leaned down and I held my breath. “No, you don’t, trust me. You’re too young to understand what kind of man I am.”

“I’m not that young,” I said grimly. “I’m fifteen and a half.”

“Fifteen and a half,” he repeated with a strange smile. He straightened and lifted the container. “Thanks for this.” My eyes were drawn to the bandages around his wrists. Blood tinged them red.

“You’re bleeding.”

Savio glanced down at his arm, and his expression darkened. “It’s nothing.” His voice held an edge despite the familiar smirk he gave me. “Now go back home.”

I nodded, backing away. It was obvious that he was suffering, and how could he not, but he wouldn’t talk to me. I’d done what I could. Maybe Diego could get through to him, but given my brother’s lack of empathy, that was unlikely.