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“Michelle! That’s not going to help.” Steve snaps.
I get up out of my seat pushing past the table. I can't stand to sit here and listen to everyone talk about how much they loved him, it's too much. I just need a minute to myself. I walk inside and round the corner pushing open the toilet door when a hand abruptly pulls me back. Already unsteady on my feet I crash back into the wall. My vision fixes on equal parts familiar and unfamiliar blue eyes as Tom steps in front of me, crowding me in. He's swaying slightly or maybe that’s me. I'm not really sure anymore.
“Cas.” His voice is rough and there’s a note of resentment when he says my name. His eyes likewise are brimming with anger. I wonder if I ever really knew those eyes. Or did I just know who he wanted me to believe he was?
I try to straighten my posture but I can feel myself out of balance from the alcohol. “Leave me alone, Tom,” I say in my strongest voice but it comes out a lot softer than I mean it to and my speech is slurred. I try to push past him and walk the other way where it's not so secluded but he grabs my wrists, his hold so tight I can tell there will be bruises tomorrow.
“You just fucked off. You didn't even say goodbye to me.” He pulls me in close and I can smell the alcohol on him.
I bare my teeth. “I tried to say goodbye and you wouldn’t let me leave.”
Like he hasn’t heard me he kisses me. His hold on both my wrists tightens. I try to shove him off but I’m too drunk, I’m barely holding myself up on my feet. I turn my face trying to get away from him. “Tom, stop. I don’t want this.” All that comes out is a bunch of slurred words. He pushes me into the toilet and up against the door. My stomach is knotting. He repulses me. The smell of his expensive aftershave makes my stomach churn.
He forces his tongue into my mouth. I try to move my face away again but he holds my wrists in one hand and pinches my cheeks with the other, making me look at him. That mad look in his eyes again makes me think he's losing touch with reality as much as I am.
“I told you, you’d always be mine. You don’t get to just leave me.” I try to rip my hands out of his grasp but I can't. I try to kick but my legs feel heavy. My whole body feels heavy. I freeze looking into his face as silent tears slip from my eyes.
“Tom, please, stop.” My voice shakes.
He shoves me back, my legs smashing against the sink counter, his eyes manic. He slaps a hand over my mouth, silencing me and crowds me in again. His massive body pressed up against mine, with not even enough room to breathe.
He starts to hike my dress up and I think he rips my tights. My visions going in and out, I can see four of him. My head starts to feel heavy and the bathroom starts to spin. I can't get my eyes to focus. Reality starts slipping. I can't seem to see anything apart from memories of Alek. I can feel Tom’s hands grabbing at my thighs and pushing them apart. I hear more material rip. I know if I want to fight, I need to do it now but I can't find the energy to do it. I can't make my body move, no matter how much my brain tells me to kick, scream and cry. I won't. I’m just so tired. So fucking tired.
So I just stopped fighting. Maybe because I knew Aleksy stopped fighting. He was my rock out of all of this or maybe I just deserve this. I let Aleksy give up on life. I left him when we were meant to be a team. It was always just us two against the world.
Aleksy would want me to fight. Enzo would want me to fight. That’s what he admired most about me but I've got nothing left to fight for.
Enzo is 5000 miles away, Aleksy is dead and I'm alone.
Part Two
18 Months Later
34
Enzo
Manhattan, New York City
“Do you not think it's strange that they don’t want me to meet her before the wedding? It just seems off.” Luca says, leaning his head back against the headrest as he focuses on the road ahead.
“She was at the engagement party and the wedding. She walked the aisle before Isla.”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the bridesmaid. I was more focused on making sure it wasn’t going to break out in war any minute.” He slants me a disapproving look. “With good reason.”
“She’s to be your wife. You don’t need to talk to her or even look at her. Just occasionally fuck her and get her pregnant. I’m sure you can handle it.”
“I told you, I'm not having children,” Luca says simply. I let out a breath of annoyance as I roll my shoulder. With the cold February weather, the dull ache in my shoulder from the old bullet wound becomes a persistent annoyance.
I still have full mobility of my arm and leg after a long six-hour surgery to repair the tendons and muscle the bullets ripped through. The recovery was long. Made even longer when I discharged myself from the hospital and got to work. Nothing short of a coma could have prevented me from retribution and we got it.
The streets of New York bled for five months after my wedding. With the union between me and Isla technically secured even though it was short-lived. The Irish mob and the Family worked together. They’ve quickly become our biggest allies. I killed Ivan Volkov myself, ripped his throat out with my hands and watched him bleed out. It still didn’t satiate the blood lust and the rage I felt. His son and second-in-command ran from the city before I could get my hands on them. We believe they’ve gone back to Moscow but it will only be a matter of time before they reappear. The Bratva is like a snake with 7 heads. You chop one head off and three more grow in its place.
However, we still need to uphold the alliance with the Irish and the agreement still stands. I won't ever marry again. I played my part and I lost nearly everything in the process. I told Sean I couldn't marry another of his daughters, it wasn't right. So it falls to Luca as next in line. I don’t think he's happy about it but he doesn’t let on. If he said no, I wouldn’t have forced it on him. I wouldn’t have forced it on any of my siblings.
Luca is set to marry Grace Murphy. Isla’s gothic, much angrier sister, this coming September. Bit fucked when you think about it but I try not to let myself think about it because when I do, I can't seem to see anything other than Islas blank expression when she hit the floor.
He taps his hand against the wheel. “All I'm saying is, I wouldn’t mind seeing what I’m getting myself in for.”
