over her family—support he might not have offered if he hadn’t wanted to lock up her support for Trey.
He’d been arrogant, and he’d lost so much.
A strong hand settled on his shoulder. “Nick,” Donnie said, with the warmth of a worried friend, and Nick realized he’d been standing for some time, looking at his front lawn, the place where Elisa had lain.
With a deep breath that ached—since the shooting at Dominic’s, his lungs felt stiff and his chest always vaguely sore—Nick closed all those doubts and regrets into his fist and squeezed until they were silent.
Regret was dangerous. It was weakness, and he had never needed to be stronger than now. The war might have been a mistake, but that did not matter. He had started it, and he would finish it.
When he did, he would be dead, or Ettore Cuccia would be. There was no other possible outcome. He would kill Il Padrino, or he would die trying.
What he sought now was not mere justice.
He sought vengeance.
“Let’s go in,” he said and strode to the front door of his house.
~oOo~
The sight of his home decorated for the holiday—the tree in the front window sparkling brightly, the wreaths, garlands, bows, balls, sprigs, and snowflakes everywhere, the scent of cinnamon and balsam from the red and green candles arranged on nearly every surface—punched Nick in the chest, and he actually took a step back.
In the back of Beverly’s closet, with overflow into his, were stacks of brightly wrapped gifts for the children. In a family tradition that began when Elisa and Lia were tiny and continued even as their children no longer believed in Santa, Nick and Beverly put all the presents under the tree after Christmas Vigil, once the children were tucked into their rooms for the night.
Then, he and his wife would sit together on the sofa, with only the illumination from the tree and the garland over the mantelpiece, and exchange their gifts. This year, Nick had had a beautiful Paraiba tourmaline and diamond pendant designed for Beverly. The stone was the color of her eyes.
Instead of that tradition, he’d sat with their daughter’s cold body. Their firstborn.
Donnie was right behind him, and his hands came to Nick’s shoulders. “All right?”
An affirmative answer would obviously be a lie, but a negative one would be weak. Nick grunted and moved deeper into his house.
The living room was empty except for the painful phantom of what should have been, but the sound of soft talk came up the main hallway. They were in the kitchen.
Nick walked past their family gallery in the hall and tried not to stop, but he couldn’t help himself. Elisa in his arms as a baby. Elisa with Lia in matching pink tutus. Elisa and her Uncles Luca and John on a construction site for her class service project, working with Habitat for Humanity. She’d had the courage to do something like that only because Luca and John were there, and it became one of her proudest accomplishments.
His smart, compassionate, worried girl. Everything she did, she wanted to help the world to be better. Her science fair projects were always about trying to help people or expose a problem that was hurting people. No potato batteries for Elisa; she’d wanted to save the world.
“God,” Donnie muttered sadly at his side.
Nick took another deep breath and went to his kitchen.
Arianna and Billy were there, but of his family, only Carina was in the room. She ran to him at once and threw her arms around his waist.
Nick held her close and bent to kiss her head. “I’ve got you, cara.”
She didn’t cry. It took a lot to put tears in his youngest girl’s blue eyes. Nick looked up at the others in the room. Donnie had gone to Arianna and had her in his arms. Alex and Billy stood quietly, sadly, trying not to eavesdrop on Nick’s moment with Carina.
“Where’s Beverly? And Lia and Ren?”
Billy answered. “Upstairs. Asleep, I hope. Bev took some pills.”
“Okay, thank you. You don’t have to stay, Billy. One of the guys can get you home, if you don’t feel safe.”
Billy’s smile wobbled. “If it’s okay, I’ll stay and help out. Unless I’m intruding. I don’t want to do that. But I’d rather not be alone. Tony’s not answering my texts.”
Tony was in charge of disposal. “He’s working. He’ll come here when he’s done, so you can stay, of course.”
“Thank you, Nick. I don’t know—just thank you. And I’m so very sorry for