“That’s not true,” Enzo argues, his words snappier than usual.
“Can’t you see it?” I ask; my lip begins to tremble, and my eyes fill overwhelmingly. “Our life always revolved around me being the secret weapon for our father. Without me, there wouldn’t be such a race for who could kill when they could kill. There wouldn’t have been that pressure. I have been bringing this family down for years, whether it be due to my hits or because of my behavior. In some way, I am the culprit for Giovanni snapping, of bringing Zane into this mix, of making you two feel like you have some obligation to stick by me. I am the bottom line to Manuel’s death.”
“You cannot take that burden onto yourself, Lia,” Enzo whispers, the softness and grace he always implements when calming me coming back in force. “This clearly isn’t anyone’s sole blame. We all had a hand in what’s now happened.”
“Then prove to me that this isn’t going to continue to tear us apart.” My gaze flicks between all three of them. I watch them all, but mostly I watch Enzo. I await a response out of him and I say the one thing I really need to. “I need to know there’s some semblance of hope left for our family to survive this anymore.”
And suddenly, Enzo’s face softens. The coldness, the indifference, the distant glaze to him weakens before allowing my brother to step forth once more.
“We will get through this,” Enzo states quickly.
“Then come back to me,” I utter, training my gaze on him, hoping he’ll feel everything he has to. I flick my gaze to Carlo, too. “Both of you. Don’t alienate me because of what happened. Not when we need one another so much. Ever since waking up, I felt like I lost not only Manuel, but you two, too. Don’t make that something permanent.” I fall against the door, losing all the strength I had propped my bravado up with. “Come back to me.”
As I start to falter, I find my facade demolishes and the wreck that resides in me becomes ever more evident. Grief arises from the belly of my core, talons so sharp they pierce me like a thousand needles, and I can feel myself fading. But just as it all becomes lost to me, I collapse into my brother’s arms.
I don’t know about that heavy air of woe that we linger in, the amount of blame is almost culpable of exceeding any ounce of bereavement we’ve given into.
“We’re not going anywhere, Lia,” Enzo whispers as he clings to me and stops himself from breaking away anymore. “No more.”
That was all I needed to hear.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I thought I’d be happier to be home, but all I feel is dread.
I always saw my version of a home morph and change, shatter and break, but now, I really know this is – and never was – my home. This is the breeding ground of nightmares. I just wish it hadn’t taken such a fatal run to make me realize this. I have lived in the belly of hell and even though I had allowed that thought to caress my rationale, I never indulged in the notion until now.
Originally, I had woken up on my own, but now all I can hear is muffled voices as they bellow from the rooms downstairs rousing me from whatever light slumber I’ve struggled for. They started off slightly calm, but now they’ve escalated into malicious snarls, screams of betrayals, and I cannot stay here and listen to the ruckus erupting below me.
Throwing the sheets off me, I gingerly sit up, pulling myself to the edge of my bed. I climb from the side, a hand wrapped around my tender stomach, and slowly make my way across the vast space of my room until I’m able to throw my door open. The moment I do, I am met with a barricade of voices, all screaming, all shouting, all wanting the same thing – for Bruno to stop.
The moment I hear that, I’m hastening myself down the corridor toward the stairs and am making my way down them as quickly – and painlessly – as I possibly can. With every step, the voices begin to drown the room around me, they bounce from all corners, infringe upon my clarity. I’ve not been home long, but once more, hell is about to reap itself upon the Abbiati mansion.
And for once, I’m not sure if I’m prepared for it.