A Dance of War - Ellie R. Hunter Page 0,42

care of mine?”

That way, we’ll both have to live with the outcome, and we can truly understand what the other had to do and how it felt. But he’s shaking his head, dismissing my idea without even thinking it over.

“No. There’s no way you’re going to end your father. I can and will do this. When you fall asleep every night after, you won’t have the memories haunting you.”

“But it’s fair that you do?” I snap.

“You misunderstand, Mila. The deeds won’t chase me in the dark. I’m just trying to figure out the best way to come at this without failing you and Vita. I know I’ll only have one chance at each of them. If I fail the first time, it’ll be a long time before I get a second chance.”

Resting my head on his shoulder, his warmth soothes me, but nothing can fully soothe the worry etching its way into my soul.

Chapter Fifteen

Raphael

I watch the chief of police drive away in his cruiser and straighten my black tie.

I know exactly where he’s going, and I’m glad I could send him there without any answers to the many questions he’s been asking me every day since last week when Father Antonio’s body was found.

His insinuation that I was involved was clear, but he knows nothing. I know this because I only know a little more than him. I gave the order, but everything that happened after was news to me, just as it was to the rest of the city. I learned of it when his murder was announced on the news. It was the reporter’s gruesome description of his murder that I learned of how he died.

I don’t take joy in his death, but I now have Mila vulnerable and alone.

Once my driver pulls up in front of the house, I make my way to the back door with Cristian on my heels, his disapproval of my next move abundantly clear. Fuck, I can almost taste it.

“This isn’t wise, Raphe. There’s nothing to gain from attending his funeral.”

I ignore him, saving myself from having to repeat that life goes on, and it shows as we make our way through the streets. Woman are pushing their babies from shop to shop, buying their groceries. Businesses are open and taking advantage of the dry weather.

It’s not until we reach Camarco territory that the scenery changes. Shops are closed. There are no mothers out with their children. The streets are lined with mourners, weeping, dressed all in black.

Was my mother’s ramblings about today? No, they can’t be. There’s a better chance of Mila bending the knee to me than there is of me weeping for the priest.

“Pull up as close as you can to the reporters,” I instruct the driver.

I’m not stupid. Two Marocchi’s walking the streets in Camarco territory, in broad daylight, is dangerous, and just asking for a bullet in the head. But with camera’s around, and it being a priest’s funeral, no one will step out of line today.

The car stops beside the alley I used to meet Mila in, and I look away from the past. Today I’ll be walking through the main doors with everyone watching.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re growing bored and don’t care whether you live or die, Cousin,” Cristian murmurs as we climb out of the car.

All around us, the people of Vita are throwing curious—some hateful—looks our way. Their whispers grow louder until they’re confident we’re alone and bringing no trouble.

Inside the church, I plan to sit in the back, but every pew we pass is already filled with mourners. It seems luck isn’t on my side, being that the only seats available are in the front pew. It’s like the Lord is screaming for me to see the error of my ways, to witness the fallout of my actions. Fuck the Lord.

I take my seat, and Cristian scoots in beside me. The church is different, seeing it for the first time packed with people. The last time I was here, it was only Mila and I, our voices echoing into the emptiness. I take in the cross hanging on the wall, but it’s not the gold one that hung there before. Picturing the priest’s body hanging there, his blood dripping from his lacerations, I have to refrain from smiling.

From the corner of my eye, Mila’s movements garner my attention.

Her black veil covers her face, but I can see the depths of shock in her brown eyes,

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