Omerta

Chapter 39

        I'd gotten the phone call I was dreading. The body had been identified as Richie jr. I broke down in tears when the news settled and I realized I'd been in that basement with Richie. I had no idea he was unconscious somewhere inside. Dominic told me he was most likely dead. He said they probably shot him which meant he didn't suffer when the fire consumed him. 

Why would they shoot him and just leave me alive to burn? 

They wanted to get rid of the evidence and tie up loose ends whoever this person was. That has to be why arson is involved. Or this was personal and they wanted us to suffer. My Zia Cecile and Big Richie had already been notified by the police, but I couldn't bring myself to go there and see them grieving. I didn't feel like seeing anyone.

I just laid on Dom's sofa in his bedroom which was styled a lot like mine. Instead of the dusty pink color palette his was a rich blue. He was pacing his room at one point, but now he was seated at the end of his bed.

        "I don't know how to feel. I'm both grieving and relieved. It wasn't me who had to kill him, you know? It wasn't us," he admitted to me. "Speak for yourself. I feel like it was me who killed him," I muttered, absentmindedly because I was in a daze right now. "How?" Dom scoffed. 

"I approached Richie to keep an eye out for that guy. I was the one who messed up and didn't catch him when Richie called me at the race tracks. That man went after Richie because of me, and yeah Richie betrayed me because he was afraid...but they killed him anyway," I gritted out the last part. "I killed him," I concluded in a defeated tone.

"No, Gia, you can't look at it that way. None of this is your fault," he huffed, kneeling in front of me and making me look at him. He looked tired. He didn't have bags under his eyes, but they looked exhausted. His chocolate locks hadn't been trimmed in a month, and it was starting to curl into his neck now. 

Because who has time for hair cuts when you're running the mafia with the Luciano's, and also trying to stay alive because psychotic assholes are out to get us. He still had his warm smile, at least this lifestyle hasn't beaten that out of him yet. 

        I appreciated him saying what he was saying, but I didn't believe it. This was my fault. Richie wouldn't have even paid attention to that man if not for me asking for a favor. I turned away from Dom on the sofa and curled up into a ball. "I'm tired. I just wanna rest a little bit," I told him so he'd leave this topic alone. "We should go to Zia Cecile at some point," he told me. 

"I can't face them. Not yet," I shook my head no. He sighed and I could tell by the way the floor was creaking that he was pacing again.

"Should I go then? For both of us?" he asked. I paused for a moment to think about it. "Yeah, if you're okay with doing this alone," I said without looking at him. He walked back over to me and leaned over my body to see me. "Just rest then. I'll be back soon," he rubbed my shoulder before leaving his bedroom. 

I was too stuck to move to my own bedroom. I just laid there in a ball with my eyes shut, but I wasn't sleeping.

        I heard voices carrying in the hall. "No, she doesn't want to see anybody. She's resting in my room. I'll be back in a bit," Dom was telling someone. "Has she eaten?" I recognized the voice to be Nico's. "No" Dom sighed. "I'll take care of this, you can deal with the family stuff," he told Dominic. I didn't want to see all of them because I knew they were happy Richie was dead. I couldn't handle that right now. Not with his murder weighing heavy on my conscience. 

They had to understand that Dom and I would grieve for my aunt and uncle who lost a child, regardless of if he was a trader. They were holding a funeral for him and I knew a lot of the men in this organization wouldn't show up because they don't respect the dead when the dead are rats or traders.