Chapter Twenty-Five
Salvatore
I stare into the black screen in front of me. I’ve sat motionless for two hours now, waiting for the camera to flicker to life so I can get a glimpse of her, even though I know that seeing her face will be more painful than my bruised ribs. I need to know that Molly’s still alive. Hopefully, she’s out of LA by now.
Weeks ago, I had my IT guy remotely hack into Molly’s webcam. Not that I planned on spying on her. It was just an insurance policy in case I needed it, and I’m cashing it in now.
The taste of blood is still in my mouth. Every time I clench my teeth, the iron assaults my tongue, along with a sharp pain in my jawbone. I can barely shift my position without feeling Joe’s beating throb like a bad flashback all over my body. I haven’t eaten anything since this morning, when I woke up in one of Madame Cherie’s beds. The kind madame gave me chicken broth to sip, then kicked me out and told me never to come back.
Hell is real, and it’s all around me. I summoned these dark spirits myself. I put myself here. And I know why. The hatred I’ve always felt, I thought it was towards other people. Now I know who I really hate, who I want to punish, and that’s yours truly.
The screen flashes suddenly, turning from black to grainy brightness. I steel myself before looking at her face. As her weary eyes scan the screen, she has no idea that I’m watching her, that I’m sharing her torment. She’s pale. Her face is a red mess of tears. There are bags under her eyes, indicating that she can’t sleep either. I’m not surprised. She’s terrified of what might happen to her. Selfishly, I hope that she also misses me.
At least she’s alive. Behind her, I see a normal looking bedroom. Where are you, Molly? Are you in another state, another country? There’s an open duffel bag on the twin bed, and folded clothes scattered around it. She’s in the middle of packing. She’s still in the city.
“Get the fuck out,” I tell her under my breath.
Her attention is directed away from the screen by someone walking into the room. I sit up straight, despite the agonizing pain in my torso. Who is it?
Molly greets this person with a smile. They enter the camera’s frame. I breathe with relief when I see it’s Greg. I suspected that she’d be staying with him. I should be grateful to Greg for helping her, but jealousy twists my insides. I wish it were my arms that she was running into.
You don’t deserve her, I tell myself, bitterly. She’s the only good thing that’s ever happened in your sorry life, and you nearly destroyed her.
There’s a banging at my front door. It’s urgent and loud, meaning it can only be mob business. I turn off the screen, and check through the peephole. Snake is standing there. His eyes are trained on the peephole. He knows I’m watching him. The blood runs hot in my veins. The hatred that’s consumed me is projected onto him. This is all Snake’s fault. If he hadn’t betrayed me by killing my father, I never would’ve used Molly to get back at him and the Mariano’s.
“Open the door, Sal,” Snake says, leveling his dark eyes on the peephole.
What’s the rush, bro? I wonder. Has Franco given you orders? Is it time for Cain to kill Abel?
It occurs to me, that without Molly, I have nothing to lose. Maybe it’s time I finally taste revenge. What a cool, soothing ointment that would be to quell the fire burning just beneath my skin. I’m ready to bury the hatchet, along with Snake’s body. I grasp the gun at my hip, then train it on the door as I slowly open it.
Snake rushes inside, glancing around with a harried look on his face. He finds me behind the door. His gaze narrows on the cold metal aimed at his head. I do a quick scan of his body. He’s strapped, like always, but he doesn’t move for his gun.
“Put that away,” he says, coldly.
A low, rumbling cackle escapes my mouth. I shake my head.
His eyes move from the gun to my face. He gasps when he sees I’m bloody and bruised.
“What the hell happened to you?” he asks.
“I’ve received my penance. I’ve been cleansed of all my sins.”
He looks behind me to the nearly empty bottle of bourbon on the counter.
“You’re not cleansed,” he says, sharply. “You’re drunk. Sal, put the gun down.”
I point to a corner with the gun. “Over there. Face the wall.”
Snake reluctantly raises his hands. As he walks over to the corner, I catch my reflection in the dark screen that had just displayed Molly’s angelic image. A bloody grimace distorts my swollen face, making me look demonic. The dark forces I’ve allowed to live inside of me have finally gained full control.
“Stop with this bullshit,” Snake says. “We need to talk.”
“I said, face the wall.” I grab the collar of Snake’s suit, pushing him into the corner. Grinding the barrel of the gun against the back of his neck, I allow him to feel the coldness of the metal. “Close your eyes, Snake. And when you get to hell, tell my father I’ll be coming to see him soon.”
Metal grinds against itself chillingly as I cock the gun. I slide my finger over the trigger, savoring this moment. I’ve waited so long for this. Snake realizes I’m not fucking around. He begins to shake with fear.
“I have orders,” he yells against the wall.
“To slaughter me in my own home? That’s not very brotherly of you.”
Snake whirls around. “Not to kill you. To kill Molly.”
I go completely numb. The gun drops heavily to my side. If Franco’s issued those orders, then he knows that Molly knows. And she’s still in LA.
“Then what are you waiting for, capo?” I glare at Snake with intense hatred. “Don’t you want to win employee of the month?”
He looks to the gun in my hand, where my finger is still poised over the trigger. “Could you put that thing away?”
I smile at him, turning the gun around in my hand. I’d still like to blow Snake’s head off, but now’s not the time. With Molly’s life on the line, I need him. After I place the gun on the table, he steps towards me.
“You need to take Molly and get out of town,” he says. “Now.”
“Or what, Snake? You’ll kill her? Do you get off on killing the people I care the most about?”
He exhales sharply through his nose. “I didn’t have a choice with Monty. And I don’t now. You know that.”
I grimace as I feel the knife turn in my back. He’s still making excuses, and putting Franco before me. I’m the one who saved him from the streets, and made him what he is today.
“You have a choice,” I say, flatly. “You’re just too much of a pussy to make it.”
He points at me accusingly. “You’ve lost your fucking mind. I can’t go against the boss. That’s suicide.”
I turn away from him, folding my hands under my chin as my thoughts churn, forming a plan. Maybe I don’t need to roll over and die. Maybe I can accomplish what I set out to do. I can’t take out Franco alone. As much as I hate Snake, I need him.
“Franco could’ve gotten anyone to kill Monty.” My hollow voice sounds disembodied as it rises up to my ears. I can’t look at Snake, so I focus on the screen. Is Molly still there? “He could’ve tapped any of his dozens of goons to hit Molly. But he got you, Snake. He knew it would hurt me the most if it was you pulling the trigger.”
“You don’t have time to sit here and worry about Franco’s motives,” Snake says. He shoves his hands in his pockets with agitation. “I was the one who just had a gun to my head. Were you really going to kill me, Sal?”
Yes. The word sounds in my head, echoing through my skull. I can still feel the gun in my hand, and that anxious, panicked feeling blooming inside of me, making me sweat. I can hear the voice saying, End his life. It feels me with intense fear, to know how close I was to killing Snake. For so long, I’ve itched to pull that trigger. But the reality of that is something I never could’ve imagined. I picture Snake dead on the ground, blood gushing from the wound in his head, and I realize, it’s not what I want at all.
“Franco wants to destroy us,” I say. “We’re a threat to him. He’s getting old. His time is almost over. He wants to hold onto power until he’s buried in the ground.”
Snake walks around me, planting himself in my field of vision. “You’re focusing on the wrong things. Go get Molly. Get on a plane. Get the fuck out of here. You should’ve done that after I came to you the first time.”
“Do you know why he’s threatened by us, Snake? Because we have something he doesn’t; real loyalty. Not the fake shit built on threats and fear. You, me, Anthony, the beast, we’re brothers.”
The room starts to spin. I close my eyes. For so long, I’ve staved off human emotions. I had no idea how strong they could be. I remember the four us, before any of us were made, how simple things were. We had each other’s backs, no question. Franco fucked all that up.
“You expect me to believe that?” Snake says. “You hate me, remember. You nearly blew my fucking head off. You’re not my brother.”
His tone is bitter, edged with a pain that I’m all too familiar with. We shouldn’t be at each other’s throats when the real enemy is clear.
“Franco has to die,” I say, in almost a whisper. “It’s time for a new regime.”
Snake shakes his head. “I always knew you were deranged. But you’re on another level now. You can’t just kill Franco. He has too many men behind him-“
“Beast is with us,” I say, quickly. Snake stops talking, his face frozen in surprise. “That’s right. We’ve talked. Bruno sees what I see, that Franco is a fucking tyrant. My uncle wants you to kill Molly, a complete innocent. Who’s next?”
Snake turns towards the door. “Leave town. This is your last warning.”
I grab Snake’s arm. He instinctively puts his hand on his gun. “Look at me, Snake. Look into my eyes.” I stare at him, intensity building in my expression. I grab his hand, pressing my palm against his. “We are brothers. If you want to redeem yourself with me, help me take down Franco.”
“Do you mean that?” Snake asks.
I yank his hand, pulling him towards me. “I do,” I say, though I’m not sure. Will the anger return? Will my thoughts turn on me again, and cause me to kill my best friend? That doesn’t matter at this moment. All that matters is that Franco meets his end before he can kill Molly.
Snake’s forehead relaxes. “I’ve never known you to forgive anyone.”
“I haven’t,” I say through my teeth. “I’ve just shifted my anger to the person who deserves it. Here’s the deal. I’m not leaving. I’m going to stay and fight. You’ll have to make a choice; Franco, or me.” I clench my teeth, forcing myself to forget my pride so I can ask, “Who do you choose?”
He’s silent for a few moments, his forehead scrunched as he considers this. Maybe he realizes that he doesn’t want to make an enemy of me. Or maybe the bond we formed all those years ago is still there. Finally, he places his hand on my back, and looks into my eyes.
“I’m with you.”
I’m broken to bits inside, but hearing those words closes up a small fissure. I know Snake is being sincere, but how long will this trust last? Will he still have my back when shit really starts going down?
*
Molly
Under cover of darkness, and dressed in all black, I slip into the center. It’s eerily quiet and devoid of human life, a sharp contrast to the jubilantly busy days we’ve been having. I walk along the rows of computers. My throat tightens when I think of all the clients who will be left in the lurch, my talented and passionate counselors who will suddenly find themselves unemployed. This is the end of my grandfather’s legacy. He entrusted it with me, and I squandered it. I should’ve listened to the doubts that nagged me while starting the center. Instead, I thought they were a distraction and soldiered on. Now, my incompetence has put my life in danger.
I stand in the break room, considering the espresso machine. Maybe there’s some way we can get it out of here and sell it. It should be worth at least a grand. Not that it would make a dent in my debt. There’s the state funding I’ll have to return, and outstanding expenses I’ll have to pay for out of my own pocket. My inheritance was supposed to be an opportunity, the beginning of my life. When I get to Kansas, I’ll only have pennies to my name.
My life is destroyed, all because of Sal. I sit down, resting my head in my hands while my heart aches. I miss him. Why? Am I really that stupid? I just can’t forget the man he showed me when he was vulnerable. I can’t forget the heat of our kisses, of our nights tangled together, the euphoria of being tied up and at his mercy. It couldn’t all have been fake, could it? Sal insisted it wasn’t. But I can’t trust anything he says, no matter how much I want to. He’s a master manipulator. If there’s any truth to his words, it’s so tangled in deception that it can’t be distinguished. Tomorrow, I’ll be on a plane, headed for a new life. But I know the devil will always haunt my dreams.
I find a piece of white poster board and write CLOSED with a black permanent marker. After slipping it into the window, I hit send on a mass email that will inform my employees of the center’s closing. Once I hear the whoosh sound, I turn my phone off before the angry calls and texts can come in.
For the last time, I lock the front doors of the center. It’s over. My dream flickered into reality for a brief moment before dying a brutal death. Heaving my shoulders, I turn away. There’s a black car with darkly tinted windows parked on the curb. Fear pricks at my skin, sharpening my focus. I tell myself it’s nothing, but I’m not convinced. I turn on my heels, stepping quickly down the block. Before I can cross the street, a wall of muscle appears in my path wearing dark clothing, a hood pulled over his head. Squinting in the darkness, I realize I know this man. It’s Bruno.
“Evening, Molly,” Bruno says. “You’re out late. Do you need a ride?”
He jerks his chin towards the car parked on the curb. My palms begin to sweat. My knees shake. My brain tries to visualize a path around this mountain of a man, but comes up empty. What does he want with me?
Bruno sweeps his arm out. “This way,” he says.
He doesn’t put his hands on me, but he doesn’t have to. I’m too scared to go against him. He walks closely behind me as we make our way to the car. When we get there, he opens the door to the backseat, politely inviting me to get inside. I slide over the black leather. My mind’s in a state of numb panic. Is he escorting me to my death?
There’s someone in the driver’s seat, a darkened figure emitting a cool aura. He turns around and smiles at me. I know this man too. He’s the one they call Snake. The man, according to Sal, who killed Sal’s father. Snake tilts his forehead towards me.
“Don’t be afraid,” he says. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
I nod frantically, though his assurances don’t comfort me. While we drive, I watch the brilliant brightness of LA at night bend and smear through the window. I had no business coming here, of thinking I could make a difference. And now, I’m going to die here. I press my lips together to quiet the sobs. Closing my eyes, I think of Sal. My only consolation is that maybe I’ll get to see him again. I only hope he isn’t the one who pulls the trigger.
We arrive at an apartment building with an Italian grocer on the bottom floor. The mobsters flank me on both sides as we walk inside. There’s a man behind the counter rolling out sticky bread dough with floured, gloved hands. He wears an apron and a name tag that reads Rick. He and the mobsters exchange curt greetings. I try to alert him to my danger with my eyes, but Rick barely looks at me, his attention absorbed in the dough he’s working.
We traverse aisles stocked with jars of olives, pickled peppers, and sauces before coming to a stairwell at the back of the shop. Our steps echo as we climb up to the top floor. Before Bruno opens the door to the apartment, I can sense Sal’s presence. It’s a cold wind that moves up my spine, chilling my skin, and raising the hairs on the back of my neck. I hold my breath, bracing myself as the door swings open.
There he is, tall and lean in his black suit. His handsome face is distorted by swollen bruises, and open wounds caked with dried blood. From the way he holds his side, I guess that the rest of him isn’t much better off. I stare at him in shocked confusion, my feet frozen in place. I find his eyes in the mangled flesh. His gaze cuts straight through my pain and fear, shining a light in the dark, unexplored places that reside inside of me. He steps forward quickly, grasping my arm and pulling me inside the apartment.
“Molly.” My name escapes his mouth in a low growl as he wraps me in his arms, pressing my head against his chest. For a moment, I close my eyes, comforted by his body heat and familiar smell. He strokes my hair, tilting my head back, and leans in to kiss me. Before our lips can touch, my anxiety comes roaring back in full force. I stumble backwards, shaking my head.
“What is this?” I ask. “What do you want from me? You have to let me go.”
“It’s not safe,” Sal says. His arms tense like he wants to reach for me. With closed fists, he restrains himself. “You blocked the donation. Franco knows you know the truth. He’s issued orders for you to be killed.”
Sudden, intense fear grips my body. I glance warily at Snake and Bruno. Isn’t it their job to carry out orders? How can I trust them? Am I being tricked into my own assassination? Bruno, as if sensing my apprehension, moves his large frame in front of the doorway. It’s clear that I’m not leaving anytime soon. The air around me shifts as Sal approaches me from behind. He lays his hand on my shoulder. I close my eyes, resisting the flood of emotions.
“We’re going to take care of this, Molly. You’re going to be okay.” He tightens his grip on my shoulder, turning me around to face him. “I love you.”
The words come out harsh and strained, and they sound like the truth. But I know Sal is a skilled liar. I don’t say anything. I keep my face still, not betraying any emotion. Sal’s eyes narrow angrily. His arm shoots out, wrapping around my waist. The force he admits is so magnetic, that when he leans forward to kiss me, I don’t stop him. His lips crash against mine. Despite my better judgement, I give in. Endorphins rush through my system. After the torment I’ve experienced, it’s a sweet relief. When Sal pulls back, I don’t want him to go.
“You still think this is fake?” he hisses. “You’re not that stupid, Molly.”
It certainly doesn’t feel fake. My knees are still quivering from that kiss. My skin crawls with a need to be touched by him. But after everything, I still can’t trust him. I remain silent, avoiding his gaze.
Sal snaps his finger towards Snake. The two of them make for the door. Sal turns to me.
“You’ll see,” he says with finality, before he and Snake leave me in the care of the beast.