DONATELLA - 22 DAYS AGO
I was sore.
And I wasn’t sure if it was from the sex or the fight before the sex… I had a feeling it was a bit both, but mostly the fight.
I wanted to spend the day soaking in the bath to stop the bruises from getting bad. However, at five in the morning, I found myself in the Contemporary Art section of The Art Institute of Chicago, staring at a massive abstract painting of a woman sinking underwater, her skin cracking; above her was an eagle with a crushed butterfly in its claws and below her, in the water, was the tail-end of a shark disappearing behind the rocks.
“You’re late,” I said, hearing the footsteps behind me. I didn’t bother turning around. She walked up beside me, standing at exactly my height, looking up at the painting as well. Turning to her, as she turned to me, and had anyone else had seen her, they would have flinched; her face was covered in deep, jagged-edged scars. They cut across the nose, cheek, and mouth…but none of them were as bad as the one she hid under her scarf, the one that ran right over her vocal cords. “You’re never late, Jackal, what happened?”
She didn’t answer. Not because she wouldn’t, but because she couldn’t. Not vocally, at least.
Reaching into her large tote bag, she handed me a thick yellow file.
Turning away from her completely, I walked to the bench within the exhibit and sat down.
“This is a lot of information on one kid.”
When I looked back at her, she simply shook her head.
Furrowing my eyebrows together, I tried to read her expression, but she was keeping it blank on purpose.
“I’ll just read then,” I replied, opening the page. The very first thing I saw was an imagine of Toby and Savino from last Christmas. “What is this?” I asked, knowing she couldn’t speak…but I’m sure she knew I was asking myself, not her.
The photo looked innocent enough, like Savino had accidentally bumped into him. In the back of my mind, I remembered that party. Savino had gotten drunk and started singing to the embarrassment of his daughter…something that was typical of him…and yet, in the image I could clearly see him slipping something into Toby’s hand. Turning the page, I saw another photo, this time of the same alley Toby had shown me, where he’d said Declan had killed Marco…however…he shouldn’t have been there, in that alley. Nor should he have been chasing down Declan.
Hearing her footsteps, I looked up at Jackal as she pointed to the photo of Toby.
“He killed Marco.” I wasn’t asking. I just knew. It was the only thing that made sense, and yet, seeing her nod made me inhale sharply. Swallowing the pool of saliva in my mouth, I looked down at my papers and photos again. On them, several of our suppliers…all of them from different regions of Mexico, Colombia, and Venezuela…all of whom had come short for this shipment. I remembered an old conversation Ethan had had with one of our uncles about a power struggle after the death of one of our point men.
“Toby is working with Savino,” I whispered, nodding to myself, all the pieces coming together perfectly in my mind. “The drug lords and cartels in South have been changing. The new bloods, the second generation, has no respect for us… Savino wants control of the Italians…what better way to do that than restarting the blood feuds with the Irish, over the death of a proud Italian boy. Thus, cutting off the power of the Callahan’s, especially now that Ethan’s trying to reign in Boston.”
Jackal snapped her fingers in front of my face, and when I looked back at her she held up a photo of Toby, confusion clearly on her face.
“Why would he betray us for Savino?” I asked her question and she nodded, putting the photo back down in my lap. I wish I didn’t know that answer…but I did. “Me. He did it for me.”
The fucking idiot.
“He’ll kill Savino the moment he can. Then he’ll be the Don of the Italian mafia. He’ll go to my brothers and try to broker a truce…if I marry him. The Callahan’s still have an in with the Italians; he’s my equal and Ethan’s equal. He gets everything he wants. He loves me, but he hates being under me. He hates being under my family. He’s not working for Savino, he’s working for himself. For his own ambitions.”
It was brilliant; he was close enough that we trusted him and he was already respected by association from everyone we knew. On top of that, he knew how to run the business. If it failed… He could pin it all on Savino and wait to strike again.
Jackal crouched down to her knees in front of me and she lifted up the photo of Savino and Toby again. Pointing from Savino to Toby then to me.
“Take their plan?” I asked and she nodded again.
Let Toby kill Savino, then kill Toby. I’d have control over the Italians and Ethan would have the Irish…he’d already married Irish and, in doing so, caused a rift between himself and the Italian side of the family.
Do it, a voice in my mind whispered, rising from the deepest part of me. This is it. This how we can have it all. Take it from them.
I could see how I could do it. I could take it all.
The more I thought about it, the stronger that nagging feeling got, like I was missing something important. Glancing down at the folder again, I saw a picture of Ethan. He was at the same Christmas party, holding a glass to his lips, but his eyes were locked on something not in the frame. I lifted the picture of Savino and Toby and put it next to the one of Ethan.
“Ethan,” I whispered as I realized how simple it was for me to figure this all out. I was not an idiot, but I was no genius either…at least, not in the same way Ethan was. No one, not even his wife, knew him like I did. Wyatt and I were twins. But Ethan and I were closer in some ways. I knew what he was thinking just by observing the way he held his glass or sat in his chair.
People thought I blindly followed him when I was younger however, that wasn't the case. Like when he first became the Mani Di Forbice by killing a priest who’d planned to sell out my parents in order to save himself from being exposed as a child molester. Ethan had grabbed on to my arm and told me not to go to that priest for confession. When I looked at him, I saw the warning, the raging storm that was coming and I simply said okay. I’d spent almost all of my life watching him carefully which is why I knew in my heart that if I could figure this out, if I could see the big picture… Ethan had most definitely seen it months ago.
“These were hard to get…” I stated to Jackal and she nodded. “But not so hard my brother couldn’t find out if he wanted too?”
Again, she nodded.
Toby was betraying us…and Ethan knew.
This whole time, he knew.
“Thank you, Jackal,” I said to her, standing back on my feet as she stood up as well. “For reminding me I can’t count on anyone.”
She frowned at me as I reached into my jacket to pay her for the information she’d garnered. However, she put her hands up, shaking her head.
Rolling my eyes, I took out the monopoly money, making her frown, confused again. “I knew you’d try to reject it, so I had it wired directly into your account from a private account.”
She made a face and I grinned, turning from her and walking out of the exhibit, trying my best to bite down on the rage threatening to break free from my lips.
Kill him.
Kill them all.
The words repeated in my mind as I exited out of the building through the security entrance.
***
The sun was just coming up by the time I got home and into my bedroom.
Toby was sitting on the edge of my bed and yawning. He glanced over at me, a happy grin on his lips. “I missed you. Where did you go?”
I stared at him. I wanted to grab anything I could get my hands on and bash his face in. I wanted to strangle him with my sheets. And I couldn’t…not now.
“I went for a ride,” I said, taking off my leather jacket and throwing it on the couch along with my jeans before walking to my bed.
“What did you need to think about?” he asked as I lay down on the bed.
“You.”
At that, he turned back to me eyebrow raised, “Me?”
The secret to lying was the truth…telling people just sprinkle of the truth with fiction mixed in. “You hit me.”
His mouth dropped open, “You hit me first! Twice!”
I had to force myself to grin at that even though the very sight of him made me sick, “I didn’t say I didn’t deserve it. Nor did I say I was mad you did.”
“So what were you thinking about me—?”
“You should have done it a long time ago,” I told him seriously, “If you want to stand beside me, you can’t always take my shit. I was thinking how if you fought me in private then maybe you wouldn’t be so quick to try and speak for me in public or force my hand… It’s good you’re growing.”
He snorted, laying back. “So you’re saying all I have to do is take you in the woods—”
“No more woods, that was not comfortable,” I cut in quickly. He rolled on top of me, grinning.
“I think we’ve both grown… Someone is a little affectionate this morning.”
Rolling my eyes, I tried to push him off but he didn’t budge, “Don’t you have work to do? I’m still the boss and can sleep in for another half-hour.”
“Five more minutes, ma’am.” He smiled before kissing me.
Reach into the pillowcase, take the knife, slit his throat! the voice in my mind screamed, but instead I kissed him back, forcing myself to bear it for now.
I’d play along.
I’d let him and Savino think I was sitting in the palm of their hands. Then I’d get to Ethan.