“But what about you?”
“Oh, we’ll be following,” Enzo dryly replies, nodding his head. “It’s all set in motion. We planned on telling you soon because it’s time you got out. It is time to get you out. Everything we’ve been planning is being finalized as we speak. Tonight, we planned on telling Manuel and making you pack little by little.” I can sense the nerves that filter through Enzo’s body as he doesn’t quite know where to look. I mean, I’m hardly shedding excitement. “We wanted to tell you sooner, but after the dilemma with Zane breaking up with you and you winding up on the Amalfi Coast, we lost time and then when you came back, we’ve never caught a break. But you need to know that we are closing in on that freedom.”
“Is that why you’re all about me forgiving myself?” I ask, and he nods. “Well, I won’t lie. I’m shocked.”
“Good, we wanted you to be,” he quips, chortling wryly as he does. “But we also don’t want that sort of bombshell dropped on you at the house, so Carlo and I planned to get you for the day, get your head on a little straighter and then tell you away from the house.”
“What did I ever do to deserve you as a big brother?” I ask him.
My heart does pang for Enzo. He gave up his one true love for his younger siblings and he is literally passing time in order to see us set right in life. His selflessness is something I admire, something I envy, and something I cannot wait to watch him pass on. Enzo gave up his life for us, and I know it’s now time to respect him and everything he has set into motion.
Clapping his knees, he stands up and turns to face me. “Now, let’s get ice cream, go home, and we’ll get Manuel on board, too. This is the beginning for you two.”
He starts the walk away, and I just wordlessly stand. With my head still spinning, I finally follow him.
***
When we enter the house, I notice how eerily quiet it is. I move closer to Enzo’s side, admittedly feeling a little terrified of the feeling that ebbs into my system. We both noted that the gardener was not outside working, the only cars were Manuel’s and Giovanni’s, and upon entering the house, the usual hustle and bustle of the maids, housekeepers, and chefs was nonexistent.
That’s when I hear the grunting noise followed by a struggled gurgling. While the gurgling continues in gasps and sputters, the grunting isn’t as consistent, and now it’s gone quiet once more. Then I hear it again. This time there’s a muffled voice with it and I go to move.
Enzo stops me. “Wait here,” Enzo orders me. I see the way he’s standing and know, he’s feeling the same as me. Something is amiss in the house.
“No,” I defy him, disregarding his evident need to protect me.
“Amelia,” Enzo grounds out. He might not want me to follow, but there is no way in hell I am going to stand in the foyer while something is happening in my house. “You need to stay here.”
“No, I don’t. I need to stay with you.” I move with him as if to aid my cause. I watch the protector in him become an emblazoned figure before me. It’s this that makes me want to remain with him. “Enzo, I’m not letting you go alone, and I don’t want to stay on my own.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, relinquishing the need to push me back out of the house. “But you stand back.”
I numbly nod, and we begin to investigate the noise. As we enter, I see the back of Giovanni. He’s standing without a shirt on. The ominous gothic cross tattoo that paints his back is on show.
Before one of us can say anthing, I watch his arm draw back in a swift motion before pummeling forward. It’s now I realize that gurgling noise has been Manuel.
“Gio?” Enzo calls out. His tone is sharp, dangerously low, and he’s ready to react.
As he turns, Manuel’s body slumps down into a heap on the floor. I let out a scream as I see Manuel’s stomach ripped opened, his shirt, which hangs in tatters, is smothered with so much blood I feel myself gag. When I look back at Giovanni, the expression he wears terrifies me. His tanned, tattooed skin is red with blood, and it’s hard to ignore the smile that lights up his face as blood runs down it.
The man who turned around to face us isn’t our brother. In all of his sadistic angles, Giovanni has never looked this hell-bent and crazed. He has never made me fear him, but as he stares with pupils so large I barely notice the green hoop of his eyes, and likewise, I barely recognize my own sibling. The blood that covers him only makes him react more superior, and he stands, ready to attack.