Page 20 of The Don's Eternal Vows

I break through the treeline, and suddenly, I'm there. The edge of the cliff looms before me, a sheer drop into the churning river below. The sight makes my heart drop to my stomach.

My eyes scan the horizon, calculating the distance. The inevitability of my decision settles over me like a heavy cloak.

"Dio mio," I breathe, running a hand through my slicked-back hair. "What a way to go."

The wind whips around me, tugging at my suit jacket. I take a step closer to the edge, arms outstretched for balance, feeling the ground crumble slightly beneath my feet.

The river roars its answer, a constant, thunderous proof of her might. I close my eyes for a moment, seeing Genoveva's face. Her smile, her eyes, and the way she looked at me made me feel like I was her whole world.

And then, her laughing face turns pale. Her eyes close, and she’s lying there now in a casket right in front of me. She looks ashen-white, with no rouge on her lips. Nothing like my Genoveva overwhelms me, and panic overwhelms me. I open my eyes, gasping for air, my gaze falling to the sixty-foot drop beneath me.

At this very moment, I come to realize that even when a man chooses death, his body will fight to survive until the very end. I’m prepared to jump on the faith I’ve placed in the gypsy’s words - for a promise of reunion beyond death’s veil. And yet, every part of my body is fighting to take a step back and forget this madness.

I reach into my pocket, fingers brushing against the cold silver of the obols.

"Genoveva," I murmur, her name a prayer on my lips. The coins clink softly. I pull one out, studying its ancient markings in the fading light.

"You always said I was a gambling man," I chuckle darkly, memories of Genoveva's playful chiding flooding back. "But this... this is the biggest bet of my life."

I could be playing into her tricks. I could meet death and find nothing after. The risks are high, but even the slightest chance of the reward I seek makes up for all that may go wrong.

The wind picks up, howling around me like a vengeful spirit. I take a deep breath, steeling myself against its fury. My resolve hardens, crystallizing into something unbreakable.

"I've made up my mind, cara mia," I declare to the empty air. "No turning back now."

I step closer to the edge, the stones falling into the river as I look down. The wind whips at my clothes as if trying to pull me back from the brink. But I stand firm.

"You protected me more than once," I say, thinking of our childhood, of Genoveva standing up to my bullies. "Now it's my turn to fight for us."

The river roars below as though daring me to toy with it. But all I can think of is Genoveva's smile, her touch, the life we shared. A life that was ripped away too soon.

"You always said I had the devil's own luck, Genoveva," I mutter, looking down at the river, its white-washed surface churning swiftly in the inky darkness. Let's see if it holds one more time."

My heart thunders in my chest. I put the obols back in my coat pocket, flex my fingers and take one last deep breath, the taste of pine and earth filling my lungs.

"Fuck," I whisper and leap.

The world tilts, then blurs. The wind howls past my ears, drowning out everything but the wild pounding of my pulse. My stomach lurches, a dizzying cocktail of terror and exhilaration flooding my veins.

Time seems to stretch, each second an eternity as I plummet. Memories flash before my eyes - Genoveva's head turning back to beckon me closer, the warmth of her embrace, the fierce love in her eyes.

The water looms closer, a dark maw ready to swallow me whole. I spread my arms, embracing the fall, embracing my fate, plunging towards destiny… or death.

The impact is a brutal assault on every sense. Icy water slams into me like a freight train, knocking the air from my lungs in a violent rush. The cold is instantaneous, piercing, seeping into my bones with ruthless efficiency. My clothes turn into a soggy prison, pulling me down further into the river’s depths.

I struggle to orient myself, and the world is a chaotic swirl of bubbles and murky darkness. The current tugs at me, pulling me deeper down. I look up and can’t see the starlit night. I swim, not knowing whether I’m going up or down. My fingers, usually so deft at handling delicate negotiations, now claw uselessly at the water.

My lungs scream for air, each second without oxygen an agony. I kick frantically, my normally composed demeanor shattered by the primal need to survive. The surface seems impossibly far away, not even a faint shimmer of light visible through the turbulent water.

All reason and purpose fail me, and I begin forcing my limbs to cooperate despite the numbing cold. I try to fight to live… for the body is a being of its own.

The current buffets me, spinning me around until I lose all sense of direction. My chest burns, spots dancing at the edges of my vision. For a moment, I wonder if this is how it ends – the great Gianni Montagna, defeated by a river.

I accept my fate, losing all will to fight.

And then, Genoveva's face flashes before me, her hazel eyes warm and inviting. Suddenly, I'm no longer in the frigid river but back in Sicily, the sun warming my skin.

"Gianni," she whispers, her voice like velvet. "Dance with me."

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