Oh God, Genevieve. He still saw that innocent little girl every time he looked at her, the one he had done everything in his power to protect. The one who had inadvertently saved his life sixteen years earlier as she toddled through the gravel lot of the pizzeria, forcing him to linger so he couldn’t run after Joey like he so wanted to. The blast had just barely hit him that night. He’d been far enough away because of her that he'd remained somewhat intact. He owed his life to her, and it was a debt he’d never feel like he adequately paid back. He would’ve done anything for her. He had done everything for her. He compromised who he was, who he thought he needed to be, because she’d asked him to that night when he found out her dirty little secret, when he’d discovered the skeleton in her closet came in the form of a walking, talking Barsanti. It went against everything he believed, everything he thought… he ignored his gut and chose to give her a chance to figure it out herself.
Because at the end of the day, he believed in her a hell of a lot more than he believed in anybody else, even himself.
But it had been his job to keep her safe.
“Dante?’ Primo’s voice was hesitant as he stepped into the small room. “You don’t even know how much it means to me to see you again, to see you… awake."
The man looked like he hadn’t slept since the last time they saw each other. Dark bags lined his bloodshot eyes, fresh wrinkles marring his face. Primo always seemed ten-feet-tall and bulletproof to Dante. His father, made of the toughest material known to man, was untouchable, impenetrable, and infallible. Despite all he’d suffered, the man had never shown a single crack. But standing in front of Dante at that moment was somebody else.
Standing in front of Dante was a broken man.
Turning his head, Dante eyed the nurse, raising his hand and waving his red crayon. When he caught her attention, she grabbed the yellow pad and flipped the page to a fresh one, holding it up in front of Dante.
He pressed the tip of the crayon to the paper and hesitated.
He hesitated, almost like he forgot how to write.
Like he wasn’t sure how to spell.
He knew, of course. He knew exactly what he needed to write. But something stalled him, something that felt a hell of a lot like dread. The only time he ever felt fear anymore was when it came to his sister. When it came to her, he feared a lot, but mostly that someday, the time would come when he would let her down, when he’d fail at his most important job, when he wouldn’t be there to pay her back.
After a moment, he spelled out her name, the letters wobbly, the red crayon faintly marking the paper, leaving gaps between the lines. The nurse raised the pad up when he finished, reading what he’d written out loud. “Genna?"
The name hit Primo like a ton of bricks. Usually calm, collected Primo Galante flinched. It was a brief reaction before he pulled himself back together, a second where he’d let his guard down, not expecting to be hit with it all so quick. He cleared his throat, straightening his expression, as he stepped closer to the bed. “She’s not here."
That was all he said.
She’s not here.
No explanation.
Not that one was needed.
Because Dante knew.
He knew it as soon as the man flinched. That was confirmation. Her not being there was just a cyanide cherry on top of an already poisonous sundae. Nothing would’ve kept Genna away from there… nothing short of her being nowhere.
Devastation rocked Dante. His stomach lurched, his chest burning, as bile tried to force itself up his blocked throat. He squeezed the red crayon so hard it snapped in half. He tried to remain calm, to hold it in, as his fingertips tingled. No. No. No. He chanted the word in his mind, willing himself to listen, but it was pointless.
The ache was just too strong.
His father spoke again, oblivious to Dante's reaction, rambling on and on about how elated he was, but it went in one ear and out the other, lost somewhere in the haze of hurt consuming Dante.
Thirty seconds passed before the first alarm went off. The ventilator detected he was struggling and put out an alert that his