Page 37 of Scar

CHAPTER 33 – ALLEGRA

My heart beats faster as know that this is not a dream. I move closer to the bed, trying not to disturb the fragile moment. My father’s eyes, half-closed and shiny, meet mine with a calm intensity. He gestures weakly to the glass of water beside the bed, and I lift it and hold the straw to his dry lips.

He takes a few sips, his throat working hard, and I watch him drink with a mix of relief and hope. When he stops, he keeps looking at me with a weak smile on his chapped lips. I can't help but smile back, feeling both happy and sad in my heart.

For the six days since he's been here with us, I've been waiting for some sign that my father is still there. I've watched him closely, hoping for any movement or reaction beyond just his breathing and the beeping machines that reassure us he's alive. Doctor Spalding said it will take time and lots of fluids to flush out the drugs from his system before he wakes up again. Each day feels like forever, the minutes dragging on as I wait anxiously for my father to come back to us.

During this difficult time, Scar comes into the room every so often to hug me tightly. His presence helps calm my nerves. He holds me close, and I take in his scent of leather, soap, and something uniquely him. His touch is gentle but reassuring as I found comfort in his arms. In a short amount of time, he hasbecome my rock, guiding me through what feels like the darkest moments of my life.

Suddenly, my father speaks hoarsely, breaking through my thoughts. I can hear the weakness in his voice, and it tugs at my heart. He motions for me to come closer.

“Welcome back, Papa,” I say, my voice trembling with emotion. I lean in and his breath tickles my cheek.

“Scar,” he says, his voice raspy and broken. I furrow my brow in confusion. My father shakes his head slowly before repeating himself urgently. “Get Scar.”

I understand and squeeze his hand gently before leaving to find Scar. I track him down in the basement with his brothers. It is the same place I go when I need to let off steam. The boys are surprised by how skilled I am with a gun, and I realize how much I have missed this sport since taking it up again.

Scar's face is serious as he takes aim at his target. When he notices me, his expression softens with concern.

“Scar,” I say quietly, barely above a whisper. “Father is awake and asking for you.”

Scar puts down his gun and sets the safety on before joining me, followed by his brothers who watch curiously. As we approach my father's room, Scar signals for them to stay behind.

“It's okay,” he assures them in a firm yet calm voice. “I’ll be right out.”

I follow Scar into the dimly lit room, my heart racing with both hope and anxiety. My father, miraculously awake, has struggled to sit up on his own. My mother is by his side, holding his hand and leaning towards him as she listens intently to his whispered words.

“Come, Allegra,” my mother says softly, releasing my father’s hand with a gentle squeeze. “Your father and Scar need to talk.”

I hesitate, folding my arms across my chest. A stubborn streak flares within me, and I plant my feet firmly on the polished floor, unwilling to leave. I only just got my father back, and I want to be with him. What could he and Scar possibly have to discuss that I cannot hear?

“Allegra.”

Scar’s voice cuts through my thoughts, the stern edge in his tone drawing my gaze to him. He meets my eyes, a small but insistent nod conveying his command. The weight of our recent battles and tentative truce hangs between us, and I reluctantly let my hands fall to my sides, not wanting to revert to the constant fighting that once defined us.

“I’ll be right outside,” I say, my voice tinged with reluctant resignation. I turn on my heel and follow my mother out of the room, casting one last glance over my shoulder.

In the hallway, the air is thick with unspoken tension. My mother takes my hand, her touch warm and reassuring, but my mind is a whirlwind of questions. What could be so important that my presence is not required?

The Gatti brothers all look at me with a heightened sense of curiosity, and I shrug, telling them I’m as clueless as they are. To the best of my knowledge, my father has never kept secrets from me. Well, other than the blood oath that led me to Scar Gatti and the origins of it. I still, to this day, have no idea what the ongoing feud between his father and mine was about, and now I wonder if that has anything to do with what they’re discussing. But how could something that happened even before we were born even remotely have anything to do with our lives today?

CHAPTER 34 – SCAR

The drugs have taken a toll on Don Marone. Laying on your back in the same position for over a month will do that to a man. I tell him we can talk as much as he wants as soon as his health is better, but his eyes implore me to stay and listen. At one point, he lifts his hand and mimics writing, and instantly I understand that he wants to write something. I send Allegra for my iPad and open a fresh page for him. He sets it down and takes a deep, deliberate breath.

“Alfredo Scarfone,” he whispers.

I know the name.

“What about him?”

“Small time…crook,” he croaks and coughs, then lifts the iPad and moves the pencil slowly across the page. When he sets the iPad down in his lap, I look at the screen and try to make sense of his words.

Son. Liam...to marry Allie.

“His son Liam wanted to marry Allegra?”

He nods his head, then starts writing again.

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