his name to anyone in fear that the same fate would come for me, if I was ever connected to him. Especially since he had denied me even before birth.
Emilia knew what I’d do if she told me my true identity—I’d go looking for the motherfucker, or anyone who had anything to do with him. She knew if I got close, it was only going to bring trouble, because the Scarpones were still looking for my little sister.
Marietta had a guillotine hanging over her head before she was even born.
I wondered if she even knew who she was. Or if she did, how she had survived for this long.
It wasn’t a secret in our circle that Vittorio Scarpone had been killed because he refused to end her life, so where the fuck did he take her? Why did he let her live? He was as ruthless as the rest of the Scarpones. None of them had hearts, not even for women or children.
As far as I was concerned, all Scarpone blood would be wiped clean from this earth. Saving my sister from death wouldn’t stop me from killing Vittorio Scarpone, if the rumor was true, and he was still alive.
Footsteps coming up from behind me stopped me from replaying the voicemail again. I slipped my phone into my pocket before Silvio reached me. Things had been a little tense between us after my grandfather had given his support for me getting the position instead of him, as long as I met the condition.
I would.
Rain dripped from his fedora as he blew smoke out of his mouth in a white cloud that quickly disappeared. “You’re causing Don Emilio unnecessary worry.” He took another puff from his cigar. “Go to Sicily for a while. Just until everything cools down. He’s lost enough.”
I said nothing, staring as rain collected on the yellow roses left on top of the casket.
He dug in his pocket for a second and pulled out a sheet of paper. He slipped it into my palm and said, “Find her for me, and I’ll tell you all you want to know about Vittorio Scarpone. The things we know.” He looked behind him, to make sure we were not being overheard.
Men were placed sporadically around the graveyard, in case we were attacked. They’d come on a day when attention wasn’t focused on war, but on tragedy.
There was no other focus for me. I saw, heard, and tasted nothing else but the salty tang of battle.
I squeezed the paper in my hand, crumpling it into a ball, and stuck it in my pocket. I rolled my shoulders, the fabric giving too much. The suit I wore didn’t feel snug enough. “If the men in Sicily can’t find one woman, you either need to find new men or let her go on principal.”
He hesitated beside me for a minute. His eyes were hard on my face. “Junior needs to divorce her so he can remarry. We can’t find her to do it.”
I looked at him then, refusing to respond to a lie. “Let it go.”
He shook his head. “Can’t. We won’t kill her, but she’ll pay. We’re owed that. And if you go to Sicily to ease Don Emilio’s mind for a while, you can find her while you’re there. I’ll pay you with the information you want.”
“He’s been keeping things from me,” I said, turning to face the grave again.
“For your own safety. After he found out who your father—”
Chaos erupted from different sides of the cemetery. Some of the men placed around the perimeter were running toward us. Others were running toward my grandfather’s car, which waited for me with him in it.
A bullet whizzed past my head, and at the same time, the bouquet of yellow roses on top of the casket exploded in a shower of petals as it was hit over and over again.
“This way!” One of the men used his gun to point in the direction of my grandfather’s armored car. It was getting hit with bullets, but it wasn’t moving. They were waiting for me.
I had my gun out as we took cover from stone to stone. Every once in a while a bullet would make contact, sending shards flying in different directions. Silvio had been hit on the last run, and he was holding a hand to his arm, shaking his head.
“Bum motherfuckers!” he shouted to no one in particular, raising his gun and shooting in a direction where most of the shots were coming