Page 37 of Brutal Power

Now Matty’s family was doing the same thing. They were coming to grips with a life without his voice, without his laughter, without his presence at the dinner table. Elena liked him, but she didn’t love him. They were friends, but they weren’t family. Her mourning will fade, but that father may never get over the loss of his son.

“I hate these things,” Elena says as the funeral breaks up. She stands beneath an oak tree and watches everyone leave, her head on my shoulder, my arm holding her against me. “Everyone shows up and says all the right things but it doesn’t really help. Matty’s poor mother looks like she’s going to pass out.”

“She’ll probably look like that for a while.” I track the woman as she walks slowly toward the procession of cars. Simon’s at her elbow along with his wife, Emily, and Matty’s father. They’re speaking in low tones, and I’m guessing Simon’s letting them know that he’ll take care of them for the rest of their lives. That’s what I’d do, at least.

“You want to hear something selfish and terrible?” She’s crying again when she looks at me. “When Simon said it was Matty, my first thought was, okay, good, at least it isn’t Davide. Isn’t that fucked?”

“No, it’s not. There’s no right way to react when you find out someone you care about is dead.” It’s strange, talking about another man like this, but he’s gone. If he were still living, my jealousy might rear its head. But now? After all this? I’d have to be a monster to still hold onto that. My wife’s grieving. She needs support, not a possessive asshole.

“I guess you’re right. It still fucks me up, you know?” She blinks a few times. Elena rarely curses, but when she does, I know she means it. “All these people dying. We lost so many when Santoro attacked, and now—” She shakes her head. “I hate this war.”

I stare at her and a sudden, overwhelming desire rushes over me. I joined this family because Simon wants to use my deep contacts at the CPD to help with their war—I know that, he wasn’t subtle about it—but I never planned on getting involved. Let the Biancos handle their own business. I’ll provide some help, but nothing else.

Now, I’d do anything to make sure Elena never has to cry at another funeral again.

Which means hunting down Luciano Santoro and killing him.

This isn’t my war. I’d be an idiot to involve my people even more than I already have.

But I can’t stop these feelings. I want to protect her from this pain, and there’s one easy way to make sure nobody else dies.

That’s to end the war.

Except it’s a risk to my own family.

Fuck, I could go around and around like this forever, with no end in sight.

“What if I committed more resources?” I ask her very softly. I spot Davide and Stefania walking toward us.

Elena stares up at me. “What do you mean?”

“To the war. To fight alongside your brothers.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

I slip my hand into hers. “None of this was part of the deal, but here we are.”

She doesn’t say anything and Stefania comes over to give her a hug before we can talk about it more. I shake Davide’s hand and offer condolences, and the big man only grunts in reply, rubbing at his burn-scarred wrist.

Stefania steers Elena toward the cars. I hang back with her brother and we walk side by side, my hands shoved in my pockets. Davide’s watching his wife with a strange expression like he’s worried about letting her out of his sight.

“If I were to do something to help the war effort, what would you need?”

Davide’s head tilts in my direction, but his gaze remains fixed on Stefania. “You should talk to Simon about that.”

“I don’t want to negotiate. I want to help. And you’re the one who runs the operations.”

He grunts and glances over, frowning. “Did Elena put you up to this?”

“I think she was about to talk me out of it.”

“Smart girl. You have no reason to risk any of your lives to fight our battles.”

I stop walking and face him. Davide lingers, a curious frown on his lips. “I’m a part of this family now too, and this war effects everyone.” I glance at Elena then back at Davide. “I want it to be over as much as you do.”

A little smirk. “I doubt that, but I appreciate the thought.”

“What can I do?”

---