Page 174 of A Beautiful Crime

I do, however, see the pool of crimson before me. It spreads, touching the ends of my dress. Soaking in the black fabric.

But it’s not mine.

Uncaring of the imminent danger I’m in, my eyes follow who the blood belongs to. The alarmingly large amount of blood.

My mouth pulls open in a silent scream as my heart twists with the deepest agony. I rapidly blink my eyes. Each time in hopes that when they open what I’m seeing is not true. And yet I’m witnessing the greatest horror with every blink. A snapshot of my very own horror movie.

I crawl towards him. Hands covered in blood. His blood. And I can’t force myself to look at them.

Tears hold themselves at bay in the rims of my eyes before they fall unbidden.

My hands tremble as they reach out to frame his face. His now slacken and lifeless face.

“Giuseppe.” My voice cracks. My hands tenderly hold his face. “Please,” I beg of him in a tortured whisper, “don’t do this to me. You can’t die on me. Not you. Papa, please. I haven’t told you I forgive you. I haven’t told you how much I love you. Please. Please don’t do this to me.” I rest my forehead on his.

And as I silently beg and plead for his life I know he’s no longer here.

He resides with mamma now. An angel amongst the skies. Two kind souls tortured by the hands of the same man.

“Carina, amore,” I hear Constantine call to me. But when his call doesn’t register I feel him come behind me to rest on his haunches. He places a comforting yet firm hand on my shoulder. Slowly, I cover his hand with my own. He grasps my fingers and I squeeze as tightly as I can. Maybe if I squeeze hard enough I can steal his strength. “We have to go.”

I manage to choke out, “He doesn’t deserve to be left here.”

His lips press softly to the crown of my head. “I know. I’ll have one of Tao’s men bring him to a safe area of rest. But I can’t allow you to stay here for a second longer. I’m not losing you.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice seeps through the fog of agony. Turning, I throw myself in his arms, burying my head in the crook of his neck. I inhale deeply, hoping his cinnamon musky scent will center me. And although I still feel heartbroken and heavy, just being in his arms is enough to keep me from becoming devoid of emotion.

Another kiss is planted on the crown of my head. I reluctantly remove myself from him. As much as I want to fall in his arms and never let go I need to prove not only to myself, but to the men of this dark world we live in that I am resilient.

And so I push myself up with my chin held high and my shoulders square. I don on the mask of a woman who all should fear. I allow the flames of fury to breathe within me. With vengeance in my blood I dare anyone to cross me.

I stare down the man responsible for killing my papa. A common soldier of Luca’s who is only another pawn in this game of chess we’re playing.

But it doesn’t matter who he is. Inconsequential or one of influence. He’s going to die before he can blink.

Without thought I pull the gun from the holster inside of Constantine’s suit jacket. Unlocking the safety I fire three quick rounds. The soldier falls to his knees howling with pain.

But it’s not enough.

I charge towards him. In tow behind me is my husband and Rico firing rounds of their own to protect me.

The soldier goes to pick up his gun but I fire another round. His hand is rendered useless now. He clutches what’s remaining of it. I can only count two fingers that are salvageable.

Fear swallows his eyes whole. And I revel in it. Before I can hear his pleadings I unload the rest of the gun in his head. I keep firing until all I hear are empty clicks.

It still isn’t enough.

The tendrils of darkness that have always clung to me have latched themselves.

With a fierce and sick brutality I crouch down over the dead soldier and repeatedly slam the gun on his head. Blood splatters. Pieces of flesh tear and break off. Bones crunch with each blow. By the time my arms have gone tired his face has become one with the road.

Breathing raggedly I rise up feeling no remorse but no better than I had before.

Papa is still dead.

This blood thirst will end when I have Luca’s and Savio’s head. Until then every Made Man I see from the Fiore Famiglia, every woman who decorates their arm, is as good as fucking dead.

Papa and Luca wanted a pawn. Constantine has made me a queen.

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