Their Olive Tree (MxM Poly Romance) | Completed

Chapter 24

"Mamma," I breathed, pressing my nose to her neck. "My dear mamma, I'm so happy you're alive."

She clutched onto me a bit tighter, kissing the side of my face and wetting it with her tears as she cupped the back of my head. I could hear her muttering things in Italian and cuddled closer. A fire seemed to light up inside my mother and she shouted something threatening at Anax, which merely made him chuckle.

"What can you possibly do, dear sacred tree? Escape? You tried until you couldn't bother with it anymore. It's been twenty-four years."

My mother was silenced, but I could feel her fury. I think I know where my fiery bursts of anger and bouts of bravery come from now. My toughness is similar to my mother, especially since she has endured in this prison for over two decades.

"I will leave you two alone," uttered Anax, a cold, unfeeling chuckle on his lips. "You have much to catch up on."

His maniacal laughter filled the room and we could still hear it after he slammed the door shut and walked down the hallway. My mother was still trembling in anger, but I managed to lead her to the mound of cushions and blankets strewn around against the back wall. I brought her as far away from that chair as possible, then hesitantly found a spot to sit down.

Carmela shakily knelt at my side, her lips pale as she began mouthing words. She settled next to me and gripped my right hand with her left harder than expected, but she seemed to be more at peace after I patted her head.

"Mamma, what in the world happened? Who are these insane people?"

Carmela sucked in a deep breath, then motioned towards a basket near the door. "Grab that for me, bambino, and then we'll talk."

I was hesitant to leave her, but my mother thrust her finger towards that basket. I ran to get it, then noticed there was no visible handle to leave. The door was completely smooth, just like the one in "my" room. I returned to my mother's side and handed over the basket, so she dug inside of it and pulled out a small carton of orange juice and a sugary cookie.

"Oh, right..." I murmured, and she nodded.

I let her eat, so the color returned to her face. She still looked older than the picture Domizio showed me, which makes sense because it's been so many years. But it was like she had very little life in her silvery green eyes. Her hair was long and seemed to stop at her hips, but she seemed annoyed by its length. And that also checks out because Domizio had told me that Carmela always preferred having her hair short.

"Eat," she said quietly. "You will likely be brought to this room tomorrow for your first blood draw. I don't know if they will feed you later, so eat now."

I almost said no, but her expression showed how serious this situation was for us. I agreed and started eating some of the grapes and cheese in the basket. Carmela looked satisfied, gently petting my head with a soft expression.

Was this part of motherly love and instincts with wanting your child to eat and survive? It feels really nice, to be honest.

"Mamma, what's actually going on here?"

Carmela clenched her fists. "Those damned bastards!" she swore with every ounce of rage I'd felt and heard earlier.

I cupped her hands and she immediately grasped mine as if she was praying, then kissed my fingers. "Il mio bambino..."

I rested my chin on her shoulder, hearing her soft voice speak Italian to me. I think they were all affectionate, loving phrases because I heard similar words from my boyfriends.

"While I don't truly understand the purpose of this organization, Oliver, I do know that they are very careful to keep me alive. They take blood every week, I believe, but not so much as to drain me. I have no idea what they do with the blood. They could be drinking it or bathing with it like some kind of ritualistic garbage practice for all I know, which is basically nothing."