Page 49 of Playing the Sicilian's Game of Revenge

His breath was coming too shallow, his heart beating with painful thuds against his chest. It reminded him of Saverina’s panic attack. And worse, made him wish she was here, when that was over.

Over. He had no need for love. It only ended here.

Here.

He did not want to do this, and yet some force compelled him. He parked and walked to her grave even as clouds slid over the sun, as thunder rolled in the distance.

Because he didn’t know what to do, and when she’d been alive, he’d always known. Always been so sure.

She’d made it clear she wanted simple for her memorial because she’d known she was dying for some time before it had actually happened. Here, he’d given her exactly what she’d wanted.

Simple or elaborate, it didn’t seem to matter. She was gone, and her name was etched in stone that would eventually sink into the ground and disappear.

He knelt next to the stone as if someone had pushed him into the position. He could hardly breathe. Everything inside of him was twisted into painful knots. He didn’t know what to do except follow Saverina’s example from yesterday. He brushed dirt off the stone, picked a few weeds out of the grass.

Rain began to fall, the day turning quickly gray. No sun. No rainbows. Just cold and wet and discomfort and his mother’s name etched in stone. Gone. Gone forever. Nothing to be done about it.

So why was he here? “I do not know. I cannot fathom. I know you did not wish me to get my revenge, but I need it. I...need...”

She had loved him. She had wanted the best for him. Had begged him to be happy as she’d slipped away. Julia claimed this meant her life had not been ruined, but how could that be?

“Can’t you show me what to do? Can’t you...lead me in some way? I don’t believe in this. Dead is dead, but I need... I need...”

He needed revenge, but the only thing he seemed to be able to really feel was how much he needed Saverina. She would know what to do, to say, to feel. She would know and...

She had once asked him what his mother would think of his revenge. She would not want it. Not for herself and not for him. She’d wanted him to live a life free of that. Live the life that would make him happy.

She’d said that on her last day too. Not just Dante’s identity as his father, but messages of love. Of hope.

“Teo, my love, you must promise me to live a good life. A happy life.” And he had promised. But he hadn’t known what good was. What happy could be. He’d thought it was revenge, but the closest he’d ever come was Saverina. Because plans of revenge had never made him feel good or happy. They had only given him a goal. A goal that would one day be over.

And then what?

Without Saverina, that question felt like a prison sentence. Which was not what his mother had wanted for him.

“You would approve of her. I am not so sure you would approve of me.”

A boom of thunder shook the ground, followed by the sizzling crackle and flash of lightning. The storm was angry, but his mother had never been. It was no sign from the universe, from the great beyond. It was only weather.

“I do not know how to be happy without you. I didn’t want to be.” Or he hadn’t. Until Saverina had upended everything. She had snuck under his defenses, made him happy against his will. Surprised him with how...nice life could be with someone like her by his side.

And when he was not happy, when he had been hurt with grief and fear, Saverina had put a gentle hand on him. She had loved him.

Loved him.

Rain soaked into his clothes, made the ground muddy beneath his knees. Cold permeated his skin until he was shaking.

He did not want to hurt Julia or her son. He did not want to hurt Saverina. He did not want to hurt anyone. Not even Dante, at the heart of it. Because all he’d been searching for was a way to feel better. A way to feel whole. He’d convinced himself it was on the other side of revenge, but Saverina said it wouldn’t be.

She’d been right about so many things now. How could he deny she might be right about this?

He tilted his head back, let the rain pour over him. And he made a new promise to his mother.

I will try.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SAVERINA LET HERSELF wallow most of the day Sunday. Her first romantic heartbreak called for a little wallowing, she thought. She looked at her now bare finger and felt the loss all over again.

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