By design, God gave me feelings. They keep me alive; remind me that as long as my heart beats and blood pumps around my body, I will feel absolutely everything until my last breath is stolen from me. That is a beautiful oblivion to experience. It means that I will never miss a moment. After all this time, I am proud of the scars I wear, the demons I keep locked away, the love I feel, but only because it keeps my humanity intact and allows me to embrace every day I am still alive and breathing.
However, Manuel's death has opened me to a new world of emotion. It's made me feel a sense of living I never thought I would ever have to deal with – an overwhelming grief that feels a lot like dying. It’s this that weakens me the most. Not the physical wounds I bear, but the emotional state it’s reaped upon me and my brothers have me feeling like I cannot just face things like I used to. My cold-heartedness thawed and melted the moment I lay watching my brother die before me. That Amelia is gone and with it is my necessity to kill anyone anymore. For that, I am not prepared to see that sight again. I am in no place to deal with murder, deceit, debauchery. All I want is liberation and closure.
The sight I’m granted tells me that we are nowhere near our newfound state of sovereignty outside of the Dio Lavoro but very much still in the heart of it. Bruno stands with a gun pressed to Giovanni’s forehead and while everyone screams at Bruno, he stands with his eyes cast down upon the sadist on his knees. The internal battle he wages seeps to the surface, causing him to shake as he decides whether or not to pull the trigger.
It’s this that tells me no matter how far we run, or where we hide, we are and always will be peasants to this dominion. The Dio Lavoro is iron bound to each and every one of us, and even death cannot wane its binding. We are prisoners of our fate for a reason and Bruno is living proof.
But while a part of me accepts this realized destiny bestowed upon us, I cannot allow this to happen. In my heart of hearts, I know that I have the strength to fight against it all and abate my last clutch onto my father. Bruno was our first sliver of hope; he showed us once what a normal life was, and he can do it again.
I will not allow him to fall victim to this.
As my eyes drop from Bruno to Giovanni, I am astonished to see he is a sniveling mess. Not because of an overwhelming amount of grief, but because, at long last, his sins are catching up with him with deadly intent. Even though he’s reduced to this, I have to save Bruno before it’s too late. Giovanni deserves whatever life has in store for him, but it won’t be done at the expense of Bruno’s morality.
“Don’t do it!” I shout, catching a break in the arguing horde of men. The shouting disperses as my brothers, father, and Zane all look at me except for Bruno, who keeps himself fully focused on the cowering Giovanni. “Bruno, don’t do this. Please.”
“He killed our own, Amelia,” Bruno seethes, speaking through clenched jaws. “This is the least he deserves for everything he has ever done!”
“It’s not,” I say, my tone no more than strangled whisper. I haven’t the might to give a potent argument where I shout my words and execute them with my normal vigor. No more do I stand behind my normal Amelia Abbiati demeanor, but rather the wreck Giovanni created. “You didn’t build up a life for you and Allana to have it all come crashing down like this, Bruno. That wasn’t why you cut yourself out of the family. Don’t let him destroy you, too.”
“But he needs to pay,” Bruno states, his voice not even softening in the slightest.
“But not like this,” I reply, my words carrying forth with a dabble of honesty and confusion. I know he knows the truth, but I cannot understand what has driven him to the point of coming here, with a gun, to kill Giovanni. His anger has never driven him to this point and I fear he’ll regret it the very moment the bullet releases from the chamber by his will. “He took Manuel from us, but don’t let him take what you’ve made of yourself away from you.”
“It’s not just that though,” Bruno replies. In response, he pushes the barrel of the gun right into Giovanni’s forehead, weakening a once unbreakable man. “He almost took you too, Amelia. I know how he dragged you through this house while you bled out and laid you out like some fucking offering to Sal. People like him deserve to rot in hell!”
“And what about you?” I ask, making my voice the calmest I can. “His blood isn’t meant for your hands, Bruno. It’s meant for Sal’s.” I turn to face my father before looking back. “So, don’t do this when this isn’t your job to do.”
In that instance, Bruno drops the gun from Giovanni, allowing his arms to hang heavy at his side. He stumbles back, his eyes still hell-bent on staring at our fallen brother.