Lost In The Darkness {Edited}

Chapter~40

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Vanessa's POV:

"Now, hush little baby, don't you cry, a 'real' man doesn't cry," I softly crooned the lyrics of the nursery rhyme, a sardonic edge underlying the words, as Elio tended to the wounded eye of his brother, Giovanni. Despite the pain, Giovanni's remaining eye fixated on me with a twitch, prompting a cheeky wink from my end.

My attention then drifted to my prized possession - my pocket knife, discarded and forlorn on the floor. It was more than just a tool; it was an extension of myself, a symbol of power and control. Leaning subtly to the side, I tapped Nicolo on the shoulder to catch his attention. He obliged, lowering his head slightly to allow me to whisper in his ear.

"Can you retrieve that knife for me? It's important," I requested, knowing full well the significance of the item to me. Nicolo's incredulous shake of the head was accompanied by a barely concealed smirk, hinting at his amusement at my attachment to the blade.

"You'll have it back by tonight, don't worry," he assured me, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes, suggesting a plan already forming in his mind.

After I regained the conscious amidst the chaos and tension,  Marco, Giovanni's brother, made a move as if to retaliate against me. But before he could act, Nicolo swiftly intervened, delivering two precise punches to Marco's throat, rendering him unconscious. With a protective stance, Nicolo had positioned himself in front of me, becoming a shield against any further threats. It was a gesture of brotherly protection that both surprised and touched me. 

As the tension in the room lingered like a heavy fog, everyone eventually settled back into their respective places, their attention momentarily diverted to the urgent task of attending to Giovanni's injured eye. Marco lay unconscious on the unforgiving floor, a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded moments earlier.

In the living room, Vincenzo and Dante engaged in a hushed conversation, their expressions grave and their occasional glances in my direction betraying the weight of their concern. It was clear that I was the topic of their discussion, and the implications left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Alessia sat beside Angelo, seeking solace in his comforting presence as he attempted to assuage her distress. Our eyes met briefly, and I silently communicated my intention to speak with her privately later, away from prying eyes. After all, there was no need for Sive Darcy to maintain any pretense in this tangled web of deceit.

Meanwhile, Lorenzo remained preoccupied with his beloved whiskey, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil unfolding around him. He chased my kitten with careless abandon, his carefree demeanor a stark contrast to the gravity of the situation.

Armano, seated on the sofa opposite us, avoided meeting my gaze, his mind undoubtedly reeling as it absorbed the events that had transpired. Every detail seemed to be etched into his consciousness like an indelible mark, leaving him lost in thought.

"Vanessa, would you mind coming with me?" Dante's sudden request broke the tension in the room, drawing everyone's attention, including Lorenzo, whose concern was evident in his gaze before he masked it with a neutral expression.

"I'll come with her," Nicolo declared, rising from his seat beside me. Dante appeared momentarily conflicted, his expression betraying his inner turmoil, but he eventually nodded in acquiescence.

"Can I come too?" Armano interjected, but Dante's response was a firm and unequivocal "No."

Nic and I trailed behind Dante as he led the way down the hall towards his office, the weight of anticipation heavy in the air. Upon entering, Dante remained standing, a silent sentinel in the center of the room, while Nic and I settled onto the plush couch nearby.

The atmosphere in the room was palpably tense, each of us bracing ourselves for the conversation that was about to unfold. My mind raced with possibilities, my senses heightened as I awaited Dante's next move.

For a long moment, Dante seemed lost in thought, grappling with the weight of the situation before finally finding the resolve to speak. His words, when they came, were unexpected, devoid of the anger or blame I had braced myself for."I want to understand what happened downstairs, and I want you to explain it to me," he stated, his tone surprisingly calm and measured.

His request caught me off guard, leaving me momentarily speechless as I processed his words. It was an unexpected opportunity, one that I hadn't anticipated. For the first time, someone genuinely wanted to understand my motives—a stark contrast to the indifference I had grown accustomed to from others in the past. Memories of Amelia and John surfaced, reminding me of their lack of interest in my reasons, their focus solely on the consequences of my actions.

But as quickly as those memories resurfaced, I dismissed them with a shake of my head. Why was I even comparing Dante to them? He was nothing like them, and his genuine curiosity deserved a genuine response. Yet, a defiant voice in my mind questioned why I should bother explaining myself to him. After all, I was Vanessa, and my actions were mine alone to justify or rationalize.

With a conflicted mix of emotions swirling inside me, I remained silent, grappling with the internal turmoil threatening to consume me.