Page 23 of The Silence Lies

“It’s the only way you can move forward,” I assure. “The only way you can avenge him without getting yourself killed in the process is to accept it, admit it and avenge it.”

She shrugs my hand away, wiping at her cheeks as she turns around to face me again. “Have you accepted your own father’s death?”

Well, isn’t that the million dollar fucking question? In short, the answer is no. The longer, more convoluted response is yes.

“I’m trying to.”

We both stare at each other for a long moment, a flicker of understanding passing between us.

Grief is a powerful thing. It can break people. I’ve been drowning in my own, but working to set a plan in motion to exact retribution for my father’s death has helped me to channel that into a sense of purpose. It’s given me a reason to go on.

But looking at Sera, I can tell she’s still drowning.

Fuck, maybe it would be good for her to have something with Levi. Maybe he can be her life raft. Maybe he can be the positive distraction for her.

“I’m sorry,” I say, setting aside my own selfish jealousy. “I shouldn’t have said that about Enzo.”

Sera’s throat bobs with a hard swallow and she draws a deep breath, standing taller, holding her head high. Looking every bit the leader that she is. “You’re right, you shouldn’t have,” she says calmly. “And anyone in my inner circle should be willing to take a bullet for me, anyway. “

“Exactly. And whatever is going on between you and Levi is none of my business,” I add.

Sera rolls her eyes, sniffing away the remnants of her tears. “I’m too damaged for anything like that.”

“Damaged?” I frown. “Is that how you see yourself?”

She doesn’t answer vocally, but the shrug of her shoulders is enough for me to recognize the vulnerability she’s sharing with me.

I take a seat, watching her finally relax now that I’m not so close to her.

Giovanni relaxes slightly, too, like the biggest threat was me upsetting his employer.

“Damaged people are the most dangerous, you know that?” I say, pouring out another helping of whisky.

Sera scoffs, still watching me intently. “How do you figure that out?”

It’s something I’ve always been aware of. The fight left in people when they’ve lost everything. “Damaged people know how to survive.” I shrug, placing the bottle on the poker table. “So use Enzo’s death, use Luciano’s words, use the hate you have built up in there,” I point to my chest, “and don’t stop until the world is burning at your feet. You’re Donna Bianchi. If anyone is going to set the world alight, it’s you.”

Her shoulders roll back, like I’ve just given the words to fill her empty battery and spur her on. “I am Donna Bianchi,” she announces. She looks so fierce, so powerful in that moment that I see it—the reason Enzo was so willing to step into the line of fire for her. Sera is a force.

“True to your name,” I smirk, sipping from the glass.

“What?”

I look up to meet her wide gaze, her mouth agape with curiosity. “Your name. It means fiery, right?”

“Or angel, depending which way you look at it.”

I laugh at her words, shaking my head in disbelief. “You’re anything but an angel, Donna Bianchi. Only the devil takes down the enemy.”

She slides into the seat next to me, swiping the glass from my hand to take a mouthful. “I guess now is the time to find the matches then.”

I give her a nod, showing her the respect she deserves, the respect I can’t help but feel for her no matter how much loss I feel is from her doing. “And Enzo’s death?”

“Don’t push it!”

I smirk feeling the edge of our tension slope off. There’s an easy atmosphere between us now, even with Giovanni standing in the corner. I’m not convinced that Serafina enjoys the silent bodyguard staring daggers at her twenty-four-seven, but I have seen the subtle shift in her confidence when he’s around.

If anyone is going to protect Donna Bianchi, it’s clear to see she has more than one man on her side. I’m yet to be convinced of her bodyguard, though. Up until now, I’ve never heard of him, yet Levi and her father have already expressed how loyal and dutiful he is. If it weren’t for the silence, I’d be asking questions. I don’t trust the glaring looks, or the quietude. It leaves a bitter taste on my tongue, because I’ve been brought up to understand so many things; where there is silence, there are secrets.

---