Beneath The Surface

Chapter 37: Shadows of the Past

--- Marco's POV ---

Later that night, I sat at the kitchen counter, pouring myself another whiskey. The bottle was already halfway empty. I stared at the amber liquid, my thoughts a chaotic mess.

Just then, Ace entered the kitchen. Without a word, he retrieved a glass from the cupboard and placed it down in front of me, signaling for me to pour him some whiskey as well.

I poured him a generous amount, and he sat down on a chair across from me, his expression serious. Ace took a sip, then looked me dead in the eyes.

"Let's talk about it," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I knew exactly what he was referring to. Alexander Knight. The name alone made my blood boil. Not in the mood for this conversation, I scoffed at him, looking away.

But Ace kept his gaze steady on me. "We never talked about it after what happened," he continued, his voice unwavering. "It was in the past, yes. But the past has a way of creeping into the present."

I clenched my jaw, the memories flooding back, unwelcome and painful. "There's nothing to talk about," I muttered, taking a long drink from my glass.

Ace leaned forward, his eyes boring into mine. "Marco, we need to face this. For Raven's sake. Whatever happened, whatever Knight did, we need to deal with it. Now."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. We both knew what had happened, but admitting it was another matter. "You think talking about it will change anything? It won't bring her back. It won't undo what's been done."

"No, but it might help us understand what we're dealing with," Ace replied, his voice calm but firm. "We need to put everything on the table if we're going to find her."

I looked at him, seeing the determination in his eyes. Despite the anger and the pain, I knew he was right. We couldn't afford to let the past control our future. Taking a deep breath, I nodded, finally ready to confront the demons that had haunted me for so long.

I look at Ace, the weight of the past pressing down on me. “It hurt,” I say quietly, the pain of the memory almost unbearable.

Alexander Knight. The name alone makes my blood run cold. “He killed our sister, Ace,” I continue, the words dragging up ten years of buried anguish. “He always wanted our mother, and when he couldn’t have her, he took what mattered most to her.”

Our father had raised us harshly, preparing us for this life, the life of a mafia don. Strength, ruthlessness, and resilience were drilled into us from a young age. But our sister… she was pure innocence. She was the light in our dark world, the one person who still saw the good in everything. Innocent, kind, and completely unprepared for the violence that surrounded us.

“She was the best of us,” I say, my voice shaking. “And he took her from us. From me.”

Ace doesn’t look away. His eyes are filled with the same pain I feel. “Marco, we’ve never really talked about it. We were both there when it happened, but we never faced it.”

I nod, the memories crashing over me. “We buried it deep. Seeing him… seeing him do that to her, and not being able to stop it…”

Ace’s hand clenches into a fist. “She was so young. So full of life. And we couldn’t protect her.”

“I replay that day over and over,” I admit, my voice thick with emotion. “The fear in her eyes, the way she looked at us… and then she was gone. Just like that.”

Ace takes a deep breath. “I know. I see it too. Every night. It’s like a wound that never heals.”

We sit in heavy silence, the weight of our loss almost too much to bear. The pain is raw, but at least now we’re facing it together.

“She wouldn’t want us to live like this,” Ace says finally. “She’d want us to find some kind of peace.”

I nod, knowing he’s right. “For her sake, we have to try. But it’s hard, Ace. It’s so damn hard.”

Ace reaches across the table, his grip firm and reassuring. “We’ll get through this, Marco. Together. We owe her that much.”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. “Together,” I echo, the bond between us stronger than ever.

Ace looks at me, his eyes serious. “Marco, Raven is not her father. For all we know, she didn’t even know what he did to our sister.”

I feel a pang of guilt at his words. “You think she’s innocent in all this?”

Ace nods slowly. “She might be. And from what we’ve seen, she’s had her own fair share of pain. For all we know, it was most likely at the hands of her father. We shouldn’t be so quick to judge her. She’s not him.”

His words hit me hard. “You’re right,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “We’ve been blinded by our pain.”

“We have to try, Marco. For her sake, and for ours.”

In that moment, it feels like we’re finally starting to heal. The memory of our sister lingers, a bittersweet reminder of both our pain and our love. We sit in silence, united in our grief and our determination to honor her memory and to see Raven in a new light.

Just then, my phone rings. The sudden noise breaks the heavy silence, and I glance down at the caller ID. Sergei.

My heart skips a beat, and I look at Ace. The same look of dread is mirrored in his eyes. If Sergei is calling back, it can only mean one thing, the Russians have taken Raven.

The weight of the situation presses down on me. The Russians are known for being extremely brutal with women, and the thought of Raven in their hands is almost too much to bear.

With a deep breath, I answer the phone. "Sergei," I say, trying to keep my voice steady."Marco," Sergei's voice comes through, tense and serious. "I know where she is."