Page 26 of The Killer Cupcake
Carmelo didn’t wait. He seized Kathy’s hand–not gently, but with a fierce, possessive grip–and hauled her towards the back door. He kicked it open, revealing the stinking, garbage-strewn alley behind the speakeasy. The sudden rush of cooler, foul air hit Kathy like a physical blow. She stumbled, doubling over, sobbing, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come, her body trembling violently.
Before she could straighten, Carmelo was on her. He grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around to face him. He put her up against the wall. The moment he did, the sky exploded, and rain soaked them both. His eyes, still blazing with residual fury, scanned her face, her body, searching for injury.
"Did he hurt you?!" The question was a demand, laced with a terrifying promise of more violence if the answer was yes.
"Yes!" Kathy gasped, the word torn from her, encompassing the violation of the grip, the terror, the taste of his hand. She saw the madness flare again in Carmelo’s eyes – the boxer ready to return to the ring – and instantly she corrected her statement, her voice stronger, "No! I mean… not like that. He didn’t… he didn’t get the chance."
The tension in Carmelo’s frame eased a fraction, but the intensity didn’t fade. He shook her, not gently. "NEVER, Kathy! Never let a man put his hands on you like that! You fight! You hear me?! SCRATCH, BITE, KICK, GOUGE! YOU FIGHT LIKE HELL!"His voice cracked, raw with a fear deeper than anger.
“I tried, Melo!” she shouted at him in the rain.
“Try harder, damn it! I won’t always be here! You fight, goddamn it! YOU FIGHT! You kill anyone who tries to hurt you! YOU ARE HENRY FREEMAN’S DAUGHTER! You’re my fucking girl! You’re no ones victim! Please Kathy! Promise me! You’ll fight!” he broke before her. Tears consumed him, the rain washing them down his face. “I can’t lose you. Ever! I can’t ever let anybody take you from me. I won’t survive it again. I won’t!”
Tears streamed down Kathy’s face, hot and cleansing. She nodded, a sharp, jerky movement. "I promise, Melo. I’ll fight harder. I’ll always fight back. Always," she whispered and kissed his face.
“I’m okay. I’m okay,” she said and held his face.
The ferocity drained from Carmelo’s face, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming vulnerability. The Wolf inside of himreceded, leaving just a man trembling with adrenaline and terror. He returned her kiss with more passion than she offered. Pinning her to the wall. The rain meant nothing. The exposure meant nothing. It was only the deep, unyielding love he felt that held them together. Her legs went up around his waist. He ripped down his zipper, his tongue delving in and out of her mouth as he forced his cock up into her. One thrust after another, and he went deeper and deeper. She clung to him. And let their love explode. As the passion dimmed, so did the rain to a drizzle, and everything centered on their slowed breathing. She didn’t even remember why they fought. She just wanted to stay with him forever.
She pressed her face against his neck, inhaling the scent of sweat, cigar smoke, and the metallic tang of violence. In that filthy alley, amidst the reek of garbage and the fading echoes of terror, they clung to each other not just as lovers, but as soldiers binding wounds after a skirmish in an endless, brutal war.
CHAPTER 12
SEVEN MONTH’S EARLIER - NEW YORK
Carmelo lay still in the predawn gloom, Kathy curled against his chest like a secret he’d stolen from the world. Her breath warmed his skin, a gentle contrast to the harsh memory of the night's violence.
After the fight, the Marcello crew had dragged the offending soldier—one of their own—into the alley's deeper shadows. Don Marcello’s command had been swift, delivered with the casual finality of his authority:Silenzio permanente.An insult to a Ricci demanded a blood payment. The man's strangled cry had disappeared into the darkness soon after the gunshot. It was just another lost sound in a city built on secrets.
But Carmelo had buried that grim punctuation beneath borrowed moments of normalcy—Kathy's fingers intertwined with his own, cheap red wine softening his senses, Willa's wide-eyed laughter as Janey spun enchanting tales of Creole balls. They’d laughed louder than necessary, drank enough to blur reality's sharp edges, and stumbled back to the Boanno home in a joyous tangle. Too weary for passion, they’d shed their clothes and collapse into cool sheets, clinging to each other until sleep took hold. Kathy had drifted off immediately, her body fittingagainst his with effortless trust, anchoring him until exhaustion finally claimed him too.
Now, in the gentle stillness before dawn, Kathy slept on. Pale light traced softly along her cheek, the sweep of her eyelashes, her lips slightly parted in peaceful repose. She seemed untouchable—an angel.
Carmelo stared at the ceiling, the heaviness in his chest surpassing any blow from any opponent he'd faced. Three days. That was all that remained left, separating this delicate dream from the violent storm awaiting him in the ring.
His gaze returned to her sleeping form. Her hair fanned darkly across the pillow, lips softly parted, impossibly delicate in slumber. She was his compass, his sanctuary, his entire trembling world. The terror of losing her was not merely a thought; it was an abyss opening beneath him, colder and darker than any grave. More than death itself, he feared the moment her eyes would dim upon finally seeing the truth unmasked.
Brooklyn,New York (Months Earlier)
“Melo… Mama?”
Carmelo jolted awake. Nino loomed over his bed, a mountain of a man clutching a threadbare teddy bear—the one Mama had scrubbed stains from a hundred times. Moonlight bled through the curtains, painting Nino’s face in streaks of silver and shadow. His eyes were swollen, raw from crying.
“Melo… Mama?”he whimpered again, his voice breaking like a child’s.
Carmelo sat up, his heart aching like his brothers for their mother.“Go back to bed, Nino,”he whispered.
But Nino’s breath hitched. His fists clenched. Then?—
“Mama! Mama! Mama! Mama!”he screamed. The desperate cry was a hammer blow to Carmelo’s heart. Ninobegan hitting himself in the temple, hard, the way he did when the world became too much. Carmelo got out of bed and grabbed his brother’s wrists. The teddy bear tumbled to the floor.
“Shhh…”Carmelo picked it up and pressed the bear back into Nino’s massive hands, his own voice cracking.“Mama’s coming. She’s coming.”
The lie tasted like ash.
Nino crumpled, his sobs muffled. Carmelo guided him back to his bed, tucking the covers around him like armor. He smoothed Nino’s sweat-damp hair—just as Mama used to—and hummed the old Sicilian hymn she’d sung at the stove, her voice warm with saffron and garlic. The sound scraped his throat raw.
It took forever for Nino’s breathing to even out. When sleep finally claimed him, Carmelo slid to the floor, his back against the bedframe. The house was too quiet. Too empty.
