Page 5 of Till Death Do Us Part

Even screwing the club whores.

“How? Who?” I tried to block out images of my husband’s demise.

Had he suffered as I’d suffered throughout this marriage?

I was eighteen years old when my father had given me the news. I was to marry Rocco Moretti, the son of Father’s trusted consigliere, Tommaso Moretti. My feelings or emotions were never considered as Father and Tommaso plotted to continue their dynasty. To suggest that love was a factor in our ten-year marriage would be the furthest from the truth.

Rocco was a cold and calculating man who refused to accept responsibility for our lack of children. A child would have secured his role in the Luciano famiglia even after my father’s demise. Yet throughout the last decade, Rocco never accomplished a higher rank than that of a trusted soldier. His dream of grandeur was continually thwarted by my brothers, Dario and Dante. Even his marriage to Vincent Luciano’s daughter couldn’t elevate him to the status of Vincent’s sons.

Dario, my eldest brother now seated to my side, spent most of the last decade defying our father’s wishes. Each time that Rocco thought Dario’s disobedience would raise Rocco’s stature, he was wrong.

We were nearly five years into our marriage when Rocco began taking his disappointment out on me. I hid the bruises well with makeup, sunglasses, and long sleeves. Only my cousin Giorgia was aware of the hell I lived. My mother would have sympathized but never would have spoken to Father about it. I’d long ago suspected that my parents’ relationship had the same issues.

Dario sat taller. His lips pressed into a straight line.

“The Russians?” I asked. The war between the famiglia and bratva continually simmered below the surface, never easing or growing cold. I opened my eyes wide, staring at Dario. “The cartel.” It wasn’t a question. Rocco loathed the alliance Dario had formed with the Roríguez cartel. My husband’s disgust extended over to Dario’s wife, Catalina, the daughter of one of Roríguez’s top lieutenants.

“I killed Rocco,” Dario stated without remorse.

I jumped from the sofa. “You?”

Dante came forward. “Mia, hear him out.”

Dario stood, this time keeping his distance. “For you and your reputation, the extent of Rocco’s crimes against the famiglia will not be made public. Know that he was involved in an attempted coup. He took from me and tried to take more. As capo, I cannot tolerate dissension.”

My eyes opened wide. “Capo? You’re capo? What about Father?”

“Gone.”

My stomach lurched, doubling me over. Gathering my strength, I stood again, my gaze going from Dario to Dante and back. “Did you—?”Kill our father…I couldn’t form the question.

Killing the capo was against the omertá. If Dario had murdered Father, he couldn’t be capo. Did Dante?

“Alesia shot him last night,” Dante explained.

Alesia—our father’s mistress.

Dario went on, “Dante and I spoke with Father only minutes before. When we arrived, Alesia was screaming. Our dear father was in the process of beating and raping her.”

I sucked in a breath.

“After Dante and I left, she used his gun. The KCPD has already taken her statement and ours.” Dario shook his head. “Domestic violence is a sickness within the famiglia I would like to eradicate.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, tears cascaded down my cheeks as I let Dario’s words sink in.

My husband was dead.

My father was dead.

My father—the man who made me marry Rocco could no longer rule my life.

The epiphany hit me. My tears weren’t for what I’d lost but for what I’d gained.

Inhaling, I lifted my chin. “I’m free.”

“You will always be a part of the famiglia. Now, it’s time for you to mourn.”

A scoff passed over my lips. “In public, I’ll do as you say.” My smile grew. “In private, know that I’m rejoicing in my freedom.”

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