Mercy is an illusion. No amnesty exists for the guilt resting on my shoulders. I feel lost, and now there’s this scar on my heart I’m positive will never truly heal. The world, despite the sun continuing to rise at the dawn of each new day, will never shine with the same brilliance again. Just help me understand why it feels like I’m the only one around here not pretending the wind hasn’t just been knocked out of their life. Everything has changed.

Imagining him standing in front of me right now feels too tangible, and the pictures are playing on a speed reel in my head. The imaginary images are so sharp it physically aches to visualize. It may as well be a knife at this point, but regardless, he’d be glowering at me in my current state. The frustration would be evident in his clenched jaw as he scrutinized my attitude through his slightly narrowed eyes, masking the vibrancy of their grayish-green color. He’d growl under his breath, ordering me to breathe in the lovingly critical and bossy tone that annoyed the hell out me. In real life, I would’ve retorted with a smartass response that wouldn’t have had any impact on his demand, but I would’ve at least enjoyed pretending he didn’t have any power over me. I was lucky, though. Very few were ever privy to witnessing that side of him or knew he had that austere disposition, but I was able to see his pain even when he was working hard to hide it. Outwardly, he was the fun-loving jokester and life of the party, but he was so much more than that behind closed doors when he was comfortable enough to be himself.

Matteo was my best friend—my person. He’d been my armor since we were seven years old. Although many in the family speculated our relationship was more than a genuine friendship, as our bond grew tighter throughout the years. Without question, no one was more valuable to me than he was, but it wasn’t what they thought. Thick as thieves, they’d joke. On that part, they were never wrong.

We were personality opposites in every single way, but I loved him deeply as one would cherish a pain in the ass sibling they adored, I’d guess. As an only child, I wouldn’t personally know, but Matteo would’ve, and I’d bet everything I have that given the choice of his brother or me, Matteo and I would’ve stuck together. It’s been us against the world from the start. I was the yin to his yang.

In my vulnerable years, when so many people vowed to be there for me, Matteo was the only one who proved it. Trust—unquestionable. Loyalty—incontestable. He never gave me a reason to second-guess any of his motives or instructions, and when I’d balk at his protective bossiness, he didn’t give up. He wanted what was best for me, and as hard as it is to admit, being a guy in the family gave him the upper hand. He knew, heard, and saw more just because he was born with a penis, and as a girl, I was expected to be oblivious to the world around us. I’m sure they believe that’s the case, but they’re wrong. Matteo told me everything. Secrets were our hard limit.

Matteo has never let me down on any of his promises. That’s why I refuse to believe he willingly broke the most important rule of all. He couldn’t, and he wouldn’t. It was the foundation of who we were. I don’t have a clue where to begin to move on in a life without him. He promised to always be here for me. He wouldn’t turn his back on that.

Biting hard on my lip, I attempt to swallow back the sounds of my heartbreak until my lip forms a pulse from the assault of my teeth. The tears slowly trailing down my cheeks do so little to cloud the view of reality in front of me. I’m smothering in this agony I can’t emotionally fathom as real, and even though I know the result can’t be disputed, someone is hiding the real story in the tunnel of dark secrets. Matteo isn’t here to shield me from this, and regardless of how many calming breaths I take, nothing can change the torment of his absence. The life I’d imagined had so much more promise, but false hope is a bitch. I don’t understand, but at the same time, deep down I know the truth. Not everything is as it seems.

Watching the men in custom suits assemble under the tented awning to take their seats, semi-shadowed behind dark sunglasses with couture dressed beauties on their arms, I want to look away, but I can’t. An empty seat is reserved for me on the front row, just beside the family, but I won’t be sitting in it. I can’t. The betrayal runs deep, and I’m not sure how far the reach is. Matteo played this part better, and his act covered us both from any suspicion of dishonor. We only shared our true feelings on this life amongst ourselves. No one else would accept or understand how much the mere association with the family disgusted us. We would have been considered a liability or loose end that needed to be dealt with, but it doesn’t change the fact we’re one of them. In the perfect world, this life wouldn’t exist, but every day, it’s more and more evident that any other happy and safe fictitious world for us is lost in a land far, far away.

Not one ounce of self-preservation exists in me anymore. I’ve lost all my fucks to give. I never anticipated this happening to him, and that’s precisely why I’m guessing others are actually buying their story. I don’t truly know what happened to Matteo, but I know what didn’t, and I fully intend to learn the truth. The worst that can happen is they’ll kill me too, and at this point, I’m half dead anyway seeing eight strong men carrying the casket of the only person on this planet that I believe truly cared about me, for being myself.

Matteo didn’t have to be my friend. My father was dead and no longer the boss. No one had to loyally serve and protect the little mafia princess anymore. They owed me nothing once my uncle, the new boss, took power. Being young, innocent, and unknowing was my saving grace until I grew up and learned some of the hard truths of my life. Then I didn’t need saving grace. I only needed Matteo, and thankfully, he taught me well. My life may never be the same without him, but when my best friend taught me how to protect myself, he gave me the power to stand on my own two feet. Now it’s my turn to show him that it was worth it.

There’s a truth to be found, and I intend to figure it out. There’s zero probability Matteo intentionally chose to take his own life as an escape. They can keep selling that story, and whoever buys it never really knew Matteo anyway, but he deserves better, and I know, with all my heart, he’d never choose that path. He was a fighter with a heart as pure and true as any saint. In all the years I’ve known him, never once had I ever witnessed him give up or back down to anything. There’s no chance in heaven, hell, or any place between that he would’ve thrown in the towel on his fucking life. Sadly, no matter the cause of this tragedy, the outcome is the same; he’s not here anymore. Now I’m left in the aftermath, and my cold, dead heart is filled with more hate and disgust than ever before.

I stand in the distance but close enough to see and be seen. The blood is pumping through my heart so fast I’m convinced it’s going to pound out of my chest. I’m so hurt . . . and angry. These people may not have known Matteo the way I knew him, but I guarantee they don’t know me the way he did either. They have no idea yet, but I’ll be coming for them. And I’m out for the blood of those responsible.