Book two of 'The Vengeance Duology'
Five years ago, the lads and I made the biggest mistake of our lives-a reckless decision that shattered everything.
We destroyed what mattered most, but my deepest regret is how much I hurt her.
Every moment of pa...
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"She's getting married today," Donno says quietly, his tone gentle as he watches me over the rim of his glass. I take another sip of my whiskey, letting the burn distract me from the ache in my chest. It's 1 PM, but I don't care. The world I knew, the only one that matters, the one with her in it, stops spinning today.
I stare into the amber liquid, watching it swirl. "Yeah, I know," I mutter, the words heavy. They sit in my throat, choking me more than I'd like to admit.
Donno doesn't push. He knows how I'm feeling. He leans back in his chair, sighing. "You alright, boss?"
I don't answer right away. Instead, I down the rest of the whiskey and set the glass on the table with a thud. "Not really," I admit, my voice low. "But I don't think I ever will be."
"You still love her, huh?" Donno asks after a minute of silence, his voice soft but knowing. He doesn't need to ask; we both know the answer.
I pick my glass back up, staring at the empty space where the whiskey was, wishing it could numb the parts that hurt the most. Without a word, I down the last drop. The burn feels like nothing compared to what's tearing me apart inside.
"Can't imagine the day I won't," I finally say, setting the glass down with a little too much force. It rattles on the table, just like everything inside me right now.
"You not going to the wedding?" Donno asks as I straighten up, adjusting my jacket out of habit. I glance down—I'm dressed for it, the suit pressed, the tie in place. But none of it feels right.
"I can't," I say, the words feeling heavier with every syllable. "I can't stand there and watch the love of my life walk down the aisle to someone who isn't me."
The thought alone twists something deep in my chest.
I walk to the kitchen, grabbing my car keys before I can even think about stopping myself. "I'm going to see her," I say quickly, the words tumbling out like a decision already made. Donno doesn't say anything, just watches as I head out the front door, like he knows this was inevitable.
I make my way to my Spyder, my baby—the car I've had since I was 21. I had it shipped to Sicily five years ago, though I haven't driven it since. I made sure others kept it in shape, had them drive it around just to make sure it ran smoothly, but now... now it's my turn.
Sliding into the driver's seat, I press the ignition. The engine roars to life, filling the air with its familiar, comforting growl. For a moment, I let the sound sink in, feel the power of it beneath me.
"Alright," I mutter to myself, gripping the wheel tighter, "here we go."
I speed through the hills, my foot heavy on the gas as the world blurs around me. The journey is silent, save for the rumble of the engine—my thoughts louder than anything outside. I pull up to a small flower shop, unsure of what her favorites would be.
