Page 134 of Carnal

I shove my phone into my pocket and ignore the vibration from her new message. As soon as Flex drops me off at the house, I go into the garage and get on my motorcycle. The snow has finally melted. Spring is in the air, and the weather is warmer than usual for this time of the year. I grab my helmet, snap it in place, and then get on the bike.

For hours, I ride around the city, flooring it while on and off the expressway. No matter how fast I accelerate, I can't keep the emotions from expanding in my chest. Anger mixes with grief.

I've lost her.

She doesn't love me enough to get past her insecurities.

Why did I let myself get into this situation?

I pull over to the side of the road, remove my helmet, and stare at the dark water. It's a full moon, displaying more light than normal. My phone vibrates. I ignore it, and only a few moments pass before it goes off again.

I groan then grab it from my pocket. I have several missed calls from Pina, two from Papà, and a slew of text messages.

Pina:Tristano, call me. We need to talk.

Papà:Where are you? Call me immediately.

Massimo:Dude, shit's going on. Call Papà before he has a stroke.

Pina:I love you. Please call me. I'm getting worried now.

Gianni:Get your ass home, little bro.

Pina:Stop ignoring me.

Dante:This is the night before my wedding. I don't need this stress. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

"Fuck!" I shout, then send one text to Pina.

Me:Don't contact me again unless you're ready to tell Dante. And if it's not tonight, then don't contact me after. I mean it, Pina. Make up your mind. You either want me, or you don't.

I press the button to call Papà.

He barks, "Where the fuck have you been?"

"Riding my motorcycle. I just got the messages. What's going on?" I reply, biting my tongue from telling him off. I'm not in the mood to be ordered around tonight.

"Get your ass home," he orders.

"Fine." I hang up, put my phone back in my pocket, and gun the engine. I speed back to the house and go directly to Papà's office.

"About time you got here," Gianni quips.

"Shut up," I mutter, glancing around the room. Tully's smoking a cigar. His four sons, my brothers, and Luca are there. The hairs on my neck rise. I ask Papà, "What's going on?"

His face turns a deeper shade of red. He sneers, "Those Abruzzo thugs sent your brother a wedding gift through the O'Connors."

I turn toward Tully. "How did they do that?"

He takes a long drag of his cigar, puffs a circle of smoke in the air, then answers, "His messenger dropped it off with my guards at my gate."

"Why would they send it to you?" I question.

Tully exchanges a knowing look with Brody then replies, "The dumbass sent a message to your papà meant for us. He got them mixed up."

"Dumb fucks," Gianni mumbles.

My gut flips. "What did they send us?"

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