Page 18 of Rotten Men

“What is it then?” I finally question once I gain control of my vocal cords.

“I need your help,” she rebukes, with the same class and sophistication she used to adopt when shielding her true feelings.

“Myhelp?” I ask, stroking my beard in speculation.

“Yes. Yours and maybe Giovanni’s, too. I need my friends, Dom,” she ventures and it pierces an iron spear through my bleeding heart.

“You left your friends.”

She turns her face away from me with a tug of a frown still visibly clear. I can still see the tear tracks that mark her face, and it pulls on my heartstrings with such mastery. I question if any of her anguish is real.

“Do you need money?” I ask, wondering if this is why she showed up in the first place. Maybe she’s run out of funds to hide anymore. She lets out a small disgusted huff and narrows her sparkling green eyes at me once more.

“I have money, Dominic. I would never come back to Chicago in search of a handout. I’d rather saw my arm off.”

I rake my fingers behind my neck, massaging away the sudden pressure I feel there.

“If that’s true, then what else could you possibly need from me? From us?”

“The Outfit’s influence,” she replies, steadfast.

“You must be joking, Red! If anymade maneven knew you were here, they’d kill you on the spot. Maybe even me for not turning you in,” I shout out.

“But they won’t. You will not allow that to happen,” she counters, certain of it. My shoulders slump knowing how right she is.

I would never let anyone touch a hair on Selene’s head. I’d kill every last motherfucker who tried. She suffered that shit enough when she lived with her asshole of a father. No way I would let anybastardohurt her that way again.

“Okay, let me think. Let me think,” I mumble, pacing manically around the room. “Does anyone else know you’re back? You weren’t followed or something, were you?” I question, panicked. Her composed frame tells me she’d be too smart for that.

“I saw Vincent,” she announces, at last, putting a stop to my frantic steps.

“You did? How did he take it?”

“Not well. He wants me gone,” she states matter-of-fact, but a mixture of regret and sorrow alters her controlled tone.

“As he should, Red. It’s dangerous for you to be here,” I plea, walking over to her and grasping her hands in mine once more. It’s as close to her as I dare be.

“Dominic, I can’t go back. Not until I have your word you’ll help me. I need to make things right, and the syndicate can make it happen,” she insists, and I ponder if she has forgotten all she was taught aboutla famiglia. The only thing they’ll help with is digging up a grave for her, and perhaps not even that much.

“Broken men can only harm, not heal, Red. Whatever is broke in your life, we won’t be able to fix it. It’s not in our nature.”

“I don’t believe that, Dom. I can’t.” She shakes her head in denial.

“Believe what you want, but do it where you’ll be safe. Get out of town, Selene. I beg of you. Don’t come back,” I exclaim gruffly, with the thought of sending her away rioting my emotions. But she’ll die if she stays, and I can’t allow that.

She pulls me in and wraps her arms over my shoulders in a gentle hug. She places one small kiss to my cheek, creating a lump in my throat that I can’t swallow.

“I’m sorry, Dom. I just can’t,” she answers, before leaving me alone and bereft once again.

After I get my shit together, I jump in my car and drive like a lunatic up to Vincent’s house. I should have known something was up when he went MIA all day. I assumed he was balls-deep in meetings, but it was unlike him to not answer my calls.

Everyone believes Vincent is incapable of feeling. He has perfected the cold, calculating, emotionless mafia boss to a T. A trait I used to admire in him until I found out what a sham it was. Between the three of us, he’s probably the one who feels most deeply. The one that would stand impassively in his own pool of blood when cut. But not every nick summons such depth of twisted emotion.

I’ve only seen him lose his self-imposed control once. And that’s when our Red packed up her stuff and left us in the dead of night. For two long-ass years, Vincent wasn’t a man—he was an apocalypse lashing out at the world, seeking to destroy anything and anyone who stood in his way. And when we came up empty handed and returned to Chicago, it all came crashing down—and so did he. I was there to keep him somewhat sane throughout his self-destructive period, but thankfully it was Gio who gave him purpose to dig himself out of the hole he created, and become the Romano we all fear and love.

I shudder to think which version of Vincent I’m going to find.

I nod to the guards at the estate’s gate and drive up to the luxurious chalet. The snow-covered ground, plus the white forest surrounding it, make the estate feel that much more tranquil. However, I doubt I’ll find the same serenity behind the closed doors.

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