Mafiosa

Elena ran her fingers over the scrape wounds in my neck. ‘A gift from my sister?’ she asked.

I nodded.

She pulled her hair from her neck, craning it away from me so that under the light I could see three faint white lines stretching from her collarbone around to the back of her ear. ‘Snap,’ she said, a macabre smirk twisting on her face. ‘She did this to me when the boy she had a crush on asked me to the prom instead. Of course I didn’t go with him, but the offence was enough to warrant the scars.’

‘She’s crazy,’ I breathed.

‘Yes,’ Elena said simply. ‘I’m glad you are away from her.’

The sentiment pricked my heart, and I thought for a horrifying moment that I might cry. It had been a long night. ‘Thank you,’ I said quietly. ‘For helping me tonight … and for being nice to me.’

Elena nodded. ‘It is not unheard of to leave one Mafia family for another, if you feel there is something or someone calling out to you.’ I avoided her gaze, tried to ignore any implicit meanings that may or may not have existed in that statement. ‘If you are prepared to endanger yourself for the safety of my boys, I am prepared to do the same for you. We look after each other, now. All of us. If my sons can trust you, then so can I.’

She went back to work, fixing a square bandage over the stitches in my shoulder. She pulled back, took two pills from the case and then closed it up, folding the pills into my hands. ‘You’ll need these painkillers. I’ll get you a prescription for more and I’ll send one of the boys to pick them up. Try not to move around too much over the next few days, and get a good night’s sleep.’ She squeezed my good arm once, then got to her feet. ‘You did well tonight, Sophie. You were brave. You were a Falcone.’ She turned from me then, her silk robe trailing behind her as she left.

I swallowed the pills without bothering with water. A few minutes later, Nic appeared in the doorway to my bedroom. ‘Well?’

‘Twelve stitches, no bullet,’ I said. ‘Lucky me.’

‘Congratulations!’ His smile was all teeth. ‘Your first official Mafia wound. And twelve stitches. That’s impressive.’

‘Is it?’ I pulled the blanket tighter around my arms, covering up all the skin that had been marred with blood.

‘Don’t,’ he said, coming into the room. ‘Let me see.’

Reluctantly, I dropped the blanket, revealing my heavily bloodstained arm. There was a thick gauze plaster covering the wound on my shoulder.

He whistled. ‘Whoa. That’s intense.’

I smiled weakly. ‘Tis but a scratch.’

‘You’re hardcore, Soph.’

My head was starting to swim. I didn’t know what Elena had given me, but I was going all bendy and light-headed. ‘I feel very soft and squishy right now,’ I said. ‘And also, bloody. Very bloody.’

‘Hang on.’ Nic left the room, returning a moment later with a hand towel. He sat down beside me and took my hand in his, laying it across his knee. I just sat there, all floppy, as the painkillers slipped into my system and my lids grew heavy, and watched as he pressed the wet towel against my arm.

‘Thanks, Nic,’ I said, watching him clean the blood away, bit by bit. His head was bent at an angle, his dark brows pulled together. His touch was so gentle I barely felt it.

‘It’s kind of sexy,’ he said, taking my fingers in his, and carefully scrubbing the towel across them, removing the dried blood in my fingernails. ‘All this blood.’

I smiled blissfully at the crown of his head. ‘That is such a stupid thing to say.’

His laugh was a low rumble in his chest.

‘Did Luca speak to Valentino yet?’

‘He’s briefed him,’ Nic answered without looking up.

‘Was Valentino angry?’ I asked.

Nic shrugged. ‘Valentino’s always angry. Luca wants him to push for a truce. Valentino is considering it.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah.’ Nic snapped his head up. ‘Stupid, right?’

‘What did Luca say?’

‘I guess he just can’t believe they all showed up at a high school. I mean, that’s so messed up.’

‘Yeah,’ I echoed.

‘Luca says there are no rules any more, no shred of honour left between our families, and if we don’t agree to a truce now, then we’re all going to suffer for it.’

It was too much to process. I could only hang on to one thought at once. ‘What happened to Zola Marino?’ I asked. ‘We left her unconscious in a hallway.’

‘She’s been taken into police custody,’ he said. ‘They’re calling her a lone shooter on the news.’

‘Will she talk?’

A mirthless smile. ‘Not a chance.’

‘Will she get bail?’

‘If Donata has anything to do with it. She’s got half of Chicago PD in her pocket.’ He pulled the towel away and lifted my hand to inspect it. ‘Tonight was a disaster.’

‘It won’t be like that next time.’

‘There might not be a next time, if they get their truce.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘We can’t cower, not now.’

‘Tell that to Valentino and Luca,’ Nic said, his tone clipped.

‘There’s no speaking to them when they get like this.’

‘I don’t want a truce, Nic.’