Page 108 of Third Degree

He stared at me and then mumbled a string of Italian curse words.

“She is my wife,” he started to say.

“If you care about your family, you will start putting them first, Angelo. Just a little piece of advice for someone who seems to be swimming in shit right now.”

I was done with the third degree I had given him. There were no more questions. There were no more business deals. That was it. It was the final task that I knew I had to complete before I could finally retire from the family in peace.

As I walked out the door and into the darkness, I exhaled.

It had been fifty years of being born into a culture and a lifestyle that I knew I never really fit in. Today marked the day that I was no longer chained to a life I didn’t choose for myself.

Today marked the day when I started to live the life I wanted. A life that I got to choose.

I walked down the block where I had the driver waiting for me and slid into the back seat of the car. As we pulled out and started to head back to the tarmac, my phone buzzed.

I looked down and saw that it was Tatum’s name on the screen. Fearing the worst, I picked it up immediately.

“What happened?” There was no time for formalities.

“Are you on your way back?” she asked meekly.

I looked at the clock in the front of the car and realized it was 5 a.m. They must have just woken Tatum.

“She’s awake and conscious.” Tatum’s voice echoed through the phone, accompanied by a joyful giggle. “She’s being her stubborn self, but I assured her that you’ll be by her side in a few hours.”

I turned to the driver, feeling the urgency palpitating, and motioned for him to step on it. The four-hour plane ride that separated me from Gianna felt like an agonizing eternity, and every second counted.

“Is she all right?” I inquired, my voice filled with concern as we pulled up to the tarmac where the private jet awaited us, engines humming in anticipation.

“She’s doing well, all things considered. Just a bit groggy. I told her that if she takes a nap, she’ll wake up to find you there,” Tatum reassured me.

I expressed my gratitude before swiftly ending the call and boarding the waiting plane.

With a surge of acceleration, the aircraft lifted off the ground, propelling me toward Gianna at breakneck speed. As we soared through the sky, I couldn’t help but feel relief. The minutes ticked by, each bringing me closer to the love of my life, yet still feeling agonizingly distant.

In that confined space, surrounded by clouds and the twinkle of stars, I found myself lost in a sea of thoughts and emotions.

I wondered how Gianna would react to all of this. If she had any memories about the club and what happened. My own memories of our shared moments, both joyful and challenging, flickered through my mind like a montage. The weight of the recent events bore down on me.

The flight seemed to blur into fleeting landscapes beneath us, the world passing by in a flurry of lights and shadows. My heart raced with impatience, my fingers drumming nervously against the armrest.

As the plane began its descent, my need to see my wife reached its peak. I could practically taste the sweet relief of being reunited with Gianna, of knowing that she was on the path to recovery. The wheels touched the runway with a jolt, and the aircraft gradually slowed to a halt.

With a surge of determination, I unbuckled my seatbelt and swiftly made my way toward the exit. The door swung open, revealing a world filled with possibilities and uncertainties.

But amidst it all, I had one singular purpose: to reach Gianna.

35

Gianna

A couple of hours had passed since I woke up, finding Tatum by my side, her grip on my hand offering a reassuring presence. Within the haze of memories flooding my mind—the club, the shooting, and Chelsea—I couldn’t help but voice my concern.

“Is Chelsea okay? I left her on the dancefloor, and I couldn’t find her. I was so damn worried,” I confided in Tatum, hoping for some reassurance.

Her smile grew as she motioned toward the entrance of the hospital room, and there she stood, unharmed and seemingly intact. Chelsea had arrived, answering my question with her presence alone.

“You came after me?” she asked, her voice laced with uncertainty.

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