Page 2 of His Dark Vendetta

“Yesterday. Twice.”

“And before that?”

I gritted my teeth. She didn’t need to know that I’d been blood-starved for weeks. Without a Source to replenish my blood’s power, my body turned on itself for nourishment. Each round of Vinnie’s torture took longer to heal from than the last. Only to have him destroy my body again. She didn’t need to know he’d taken me to the brink of immortal death before ending my ordeal.

“When was the last time you ate?” she asked.

“Not since they took me.”

The refrigerator door opened and closed. Dishes rattled. A cork popped followed by the splash of wine against crystal. I shifted my weight, and the old chair creaked. The sounds of home. They transported me back in time, and the tightness in my chest eclipsed the ache in my head and knees. The onslaught of memories hit like a battering ram, and I flattened my palms against the polished wood of the kitchen table for stability.

“Antonio, get the phonebook for Luca.”

“Nooo, Nonna!” I whined. I tapped Papà’s arm. “Papà! Tell her! Tell her I don’t need it anymore. I’m six!”

“You heard him, Mamma.” Papàlooked at me and winked. “He’s too grown-up to sit on the phonebook now.”

Zio Marco stood behind me and started messing up my face, smooshing it under his hands.

“Stop it, Zio!” I squirmed in my chair and swatted his arms. I didn’t really mind; he always did that just to mess with me. Zio Marco was the best.

He grabbed my shoulders and squeezed. “Our boy is all grown-up, Mamma. He can sit at the table like the rest of us. Right on his chair.”

Zio Marco stared down at me, a proud smile on his face.

I rubbed my sternum. The emptiness in my heart was as deep and profound as the emptiness in my stomach. All that was left was pain.

Gina handed me a glass of red wine and sat down at the head of the table, her mouth stern.

The strong red immediately went to work. Warmth spread across my chest and down my limbs, and for a moment, I thought it might be possible to breathe again.

She leaned forward and folded her hands on the table in front of her. “The weight will come back in time. You’ll stay here in your old room until you’re healed.”

I watched her over the rim of the glass, skeptical and wary.

“Marco leaves for Italy tomorrow,” she said. “He and Anna stopped by this morning to say goodbye.”

I opened my mouth to protest.

“It’s not open for discussion.” When Mamma Gina used that tone, when she gave you that look, you didn’t argue.

Truth was, I didn’t want to go back to my house in Saugus. Not yet. My eye hadn’t fully regenerated, and its absence gave me blinding headaches. My knees hadn’t completely healed either, even after being reset by Vinnie’s doctor. I could barely get in and out of a car, much less drive stick.

Her eyes bored into me, and I knew what was coming—an earful. I stared at my hands resting on the base of the wine glass.

“I’m not going to lecture you about how you betrayed my brother,” she said. “I don’t need to. You know how badly you hurt him.”

As angry as I was with Marco, as much as I resented him for not taking action, the pain I’d seen in his eyes the night he disowned me haunted me every day.

“Despite what you did, you’re as much a DeVita as you are a Moretti. Always have been. Just like your father. I’m not going to lecture you about how you betrayed our family, because you already know how badly you hurt me.”

I raised my eyes to meet hers, guilt overpowering my need to escape her reproach.

“But if you think for one second I’m not going to lecture you about how badly you hurt yourself—how youkeephurting yourself with this vendetta bullshit…” She shook her head. “You forget who raised you.”

Anger clashed against regret, but I couldn’t hold it back. “I didn’t come here for a lecture.”

“Too bad. My house, my rules.”

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