Page 11 of Frayed Bonds

“I came back to be with my dad, he’s scheduled for multiple surgeries and I want to make sure he’s okay in between them,” I say, and look around past her at the guests.

Ambrose is busy playing poker with a few of his cousins, but his eyes are focused on me. I match his stare with a questioning one, but of course, he just continues to stare blankly.

“Valerie,” Zita calls me and forces me to end the glaring match. I look at the martini and thank the bartender with a clipped smile. God, I hate gin. When I glance up again, Ambrose has a smirk on his face as he speaks to one of the men next to him.

“So, how long are you going to be in Tevici for?” She asks as we sit on a couch, near where Adriano is talking to a girl.

“Just a few months,” I say awkwardly, not too sure of the answer myself.

“Antonio seemed quite excited saying that you'll be around for the rest of the year,” Adriano says from behind Zita.

“Eavesdropping isn't polite, cugino,” Zita says.

“Good thing I've never claimed to be polite,” he says. “Besides, you’re one to talk.”

Zita sighs. “Get over it Adriano, it was just tequila.”

“Tell that to the man who begged for his life with it.” Adriano snaps and both the girl in front of him and myself gasp at his harsh tone, but Zita barely flinches.

It’s quite well known that the Vitale’s deal with their enemies with a few... harsh methods, but that is news to me.

“I’ll tell him when I get to hell, or you can after I strangle the shit out of you,” she says standing up and facing her cousin.

Glass shattering across the yard draws everyone's attention to the bar, where Augustus is currently leaning haphazardly.

Ambrose's metal chair scraping against the cobblestone floor sends goosebumps down my spine as he stands up and stumbles towards his brother.

“Chi cazzo ti credi di essere?” Who the fuck do you think you are? Ambrose asks loudly as he stands in front of Augustus. Grabbing the front of Augustus’ shirt, he sneers, “First, you show up to papá's funeral drunk and now you’re making a fucking mess.”

Antonio is next to me seconds later. I barely spare him a look before my eyes return to the soap opera unfolding in front of me.

“Ambrose, you're making a scene,” his mamá pleads. Adriano steps up behind Augustus, now watching Ambrose with caution.

“Shouldn’t you do something?” I whisper to Antonio who seems annoyed with his brother's antics.

“They have to hash this out,” he says plainly, not letting his eyes leave the scene.

“Vaffanculo.” Go fuck yourself. Augustus slurs, before he bursts out laughing.

It's the last thing I hear before my head is hidden in Antonio's chest. I can hear stumbling and shouting before Antonio lets go of me and allows me to face it all again.

Ambrose is standing over Augustus' practically limp body. I can’t see too much from where I am, but I do notice Ambrose's bloody knuckles and how he spits in his brother's direction.

“You were too much of a pussy to do anything then, and you're still too much of one to do anything now,” he says.

Augustus smiles at his brother, as blood runs down from his nose, coating the entire front of his face and most of his white shirt. “You don’t know shit.”

Gianna crouches next to Augustus checking his injuries, before she turns to Ambrose and glares.

I can feel Antonio tense up and shift towards them slightly as if he’s worried for his mother.

“What is wrong with you?” Her voice cracks as she looks at her eldest son. “You’re a monster, no better than your father.” The words carry a weight that everyone surrounding them can feel. The tension in the air skyrockets, and becomes damn near suffocating.

I sip my martini, grimace, and think about how I'd much rather be at home sketching than witnessing Tevici’s elite fight like cat and dog.

“This family needs people like me, you all need me.” Ambrose gestures wildly at everyone surrounding him. “So you can point your fucking fingers at someone and blame them for the shit you do.”

Ambrose struggles past all of them towards the main house. As he slips past me, I notice something off about his face; traces of tears stain his cheeks. He's wiping it away as he rushes inside, and for some reason, my heart cracks into a thousand pieces at the sight.

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