His Bambina

Chapter 35

Aria's POV

The pit in my stomach grows with each minute that passes by. Vincenzo and I aren't on the best of terms but never would I want any kind of harm to come to him or his family. The house is quiet this morning, the nerves stewing inside everyone who didn't go with Vincenzo and his men.

The emptiness in this giant house becomes suffocating as I replay yesterday through my mind. The way Vincenzo was so lost in his mind at the news of his brother being taken. It's as if I could see the world collapsing on top of him. Will that be my last memory of him? The strong and unwavering Don, broken by the weight of the world. My heart aches at the thought.

Emily's hand strokes my arm with a sullen look in her eyes. Her brother, Sergio, and Tony all went with Vincenzo, refusing to let their boss run into danger alone. As it should be. However, I understand Emily's anxiety for her family because I feel the same way. Yes, I may be far from home, but these people are family to me.

Emily's eyes dart to the window beside us, and she lets out an exasperated gasp, "They're back!"

I follow Emily down the stairs, nearly tripping over my own feet. The front room is empty as it has been since they all left. No laughter, no clanging of dishes, and not brooding Italian dons.

The beating heart in my chest practically dives out of my rib cage as the front door swings open.

"Fabian!" Emily flies into Fabian's arms and begins fussing over a cut above his brow.

My eyes flit over the tired men that slowly filter into the house and to their rooms. Fabian lets his sister drag him to the kitchen so she can clean his scrapes. Tony walks in past a group of men, his face grim, and behind him Sergio closes the door.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I scan over the grim faces of everyone who walks past me. Did I miss him? Did he come home?

Sergio catches the panicked look in my eyes and nods a slow and reassuring nod. The tension in my back doesn't falter until Sergio walks towards me and whispers in my ear, "He's okay. He's in the infirmary with Staphano."

I release the breath stuck in my throat.

He's okay.

Those two words cause the lump in my throat to grow. After releasing the anxiety that has consumed me for days, I'm now able to drown in the fear I felt at the idea of something happening to Vincenzo.

"And Stephano?"

Sergio's lips thin, "He should recover."

I let out another shaky breath, "I-I'm glad you all made it out okay."

I have to get out of here before they all see me crumble. Once I'm shut into my room, I let myself slide to the floor.

He's alive.

I should be relieved. I am relieved. Right? That's what I'm supposed to feel after days of not knowing whether he was coming back in a body bag or not. My heart nearly stopped when I didn't see him downstairs. And yet... he didn't come to me. Not even a glance.

Why am I surprised?

I press my forehead against the door, as if I'll hear him walking down the hall. Instead, all I hear is silence. Cold and deliberate.

It will go back to just like before with me always on the outside, always waiting for him to choose me. And he never quite does, does he?

Damn him.

I told myself I was done. That what he did–lying to me, using me–was unforgivable. But then he walks back into the world, most likely scraped and bloodied from saving his damn brother, and suddenly I can't breathe again. Suddenly I'm back in that twisted place where loving him hurts more than hating him ever could.

Does he know what he's doing to me? Or is he too wrapped up in that guilt-ridden, honor-bound chaos he calls a life?

Maybe he thinks he's protecting me by keeping his distance. Maybe this is his way of saying sorry. But I don't want distance. I want the truth. I want to know why, if he was so damn ready to risk his life for someone else... why couldn't he fight for us?

God, why am I still waiting for him?

I should open the door. I should go to him and say all the things I've rehearsed in my head a thousand times. But every time I try, the words catch in my throat and all I can do is sit here half angry, half heartbroken, and all too in love with a man who may never love me the way I need.

Vincenzo:

The dried crimson gashes and yellowing bruises on my baby brother haunt me as I close my eyes.

"Hey boss." Sergio strides in quietly as he has for the past 4 days, "How is he doing?"

"He's breathing. That's all that matters."

But is it?

I'm supposed to feel relief. I pulled him out of hell, and somehow, we made it back alive. Barely. But all I can do is sit here and watch the rise and fall of his chest, wondering when the next fire will come for us. Because it always does.

And I'm tired of losing pieces of myself to put out flames I didn't start.

I used to have control. Over the streets, over the deals, over my damn name. Now look at me. Blood on my hands, scars under my shirt, and the one person I need the most is locked behind a door I don't have the right to knock on.

Curse my cousin and his irritating ability to read someone's facial expressions. It makes it damn impossible to play poker with the man, and especially difficult to bury yourself in your own sorrows.

"You should go to her boss. She's worried about you."

Yeah, right.

"She'd be satisfied if she never saw my face again." My hard gaze stays glued to my baby brother and the I.V.s connected to him.

"Respectfully, boss, you're being an idiot." Sergio's face is unamused, and I want nothing more than to smack him for his bold words. Before I get the chance to react he sighs like a father disappointed in his worthless son, then leaves me alone with my thoughts.

He's right. I am an idiot. She hates me. God knows she should.

I betrayed her. I chose the business, the lie, the power. And even now, I'm sitting here trying to pretend like I did it for the right reasons. To protect her. To protect all of this.

But she saw through me. She always does. And then I did the unimaginable. Shattered the trust she once gave to me willingly. I yanked it away and forced her to see me as a monster thanks to my damn temper.

I think... I think if she looked me in the eye right now, she'd see it. The cracks. The fear. The part of me that just wants to stop running and feel something real again. Something safe. I need her.

I want to hold her so badly it aches. I want to bury my face in her hair and forget who I am. Forget what I've done.

But how do I ask for that? How do I reach for light when all I bring is shadow?

She deserves better. Better than a man who keeps choosing war over peace. Better than silence and guilt and the kind of love that leaves bruises on the soul.

Still, I can't stop thinking about her hiding in her room. Waiting. Hurting.

If I walk away now, maybe she can heal. Maybe that's what love looks like for people like us: letting go.

But if I went to her now, and by some miracle she opened that door?

God help me, I don't know if I could walk away.