Bound by my blood

Chapter fourty-two

Authors note: The writing style will be different, I am slowly editing my way backwards through this book

One last word

To ask you why

You left me here behind
You said you'd grow old with me
— — —

Six Months Later:

Dried blood clings stubbornly beneath my fingernails, a grim reminder of the chaos I've just endured. The television hums softly in the background, casting flickering shadows on the walls, but I find myself too weary to focus on the noise. Mamma had abruptly called off the operation to retrieve him, just a week before our scheduled departure to Sicily. The announcement had been a slap to my resolve, shattering any certainty I'd clung to. It all spiraled after we saw him on the news, his arm intertwined with a tall, stunning blonde who looked like she'd stepped straight out of a glamorous magazine. That woman, Isabella, was no stranger to my family—she was my great uncle's sister-in-law. Babbo had always whispered about her disdain for us, a bitterness born from his choice to marry Mamma instead of her.

Since that moment, I haven't heard a single word about Vincenzo. Not a glimpse, not a whisper. And yet, an unrelenting ache fills me with longing, a gnawing feeling I know I should resist. Time to move forward, I remind myself. Mamma had decided it was safer for me to remain in Portland with family friends until the storm settled. Rumors hinted that we might be entering a lethal conflict with the Sicilian mafia, and she was determined to keep me at arm's length from any further danger.

In the past two months, I've managed to secure a job at the hospital and find a modest loft apartment nearby. My meager salary covers rent and the necessities of life. I've made subtle changes to my appearance to protect my identity—my once-black hair now shines a soft brown, with a fringe carefully swept across my forehead. I even wear green contact lenses to mask the familiarity of my dark eyes.

"Doctor Lexi!" Cristian, one of my colleagues and Mamma's friend's son, beams at me the moment he spots me in the staff room. His smile cuts through my spiraling thoughts like sunshine piercing dark clouds.

"Cris, what have I said about that name?" I chide lightly, nudging him in a playful manner as he sidles up beside me at the sink.

"Oh, come on, the surgery was a bloody mess!" Cris says with a cheeky grin, eyeing my nails with mock seriousness. I can't help but roll my eyes at his obvious observation.

"It was messy, sure, but I was wearing gloves. It somehow still got on me," I reply, feigning annoyance. He laughs, the sound warm and familiar, and it gives me a brief reprieve from my thoughts.

"Still on for dinner tonight?" he asks casually, as a nurse wanders into the room, adding a backdrop of professionalism to our banter.

"Of course we are, unless you've found a better way to spend your evening, perhaps going on a date with Doctor Melissa?" I tease, raising an eyebrow at him. He shakes his head fervently, clearly appalled by the idea.

I prepare to launch another playful jab when my phone vibrates insistently in my pocket, pulling my attention away from our lighthearted exchange. Cristian turns his focus elsewhere, granting me the unspoken permission to answer. I jerk the phone from my pocket, glancing at the unfamiliar number. My brow furrows in confusion, and my heart races slightly as I swipe the screen and raise the phone to my ear, bracing myself for whatever news waits on the other end.

"Hello, this is Doctor Lexi. Who am I speaking with?" I ask, my voice steady but laced with curiosity.

"Doctor, huh? Seems like my little guaio has been keeping busy without me," comes a deep, gravelly voice that sends a shiver racing down my spine. "Tell me, did you even miss me at all?"

An instant thrill of recognition sparks in my chest. "Lover, is that really you?" I whisper, flashing a reassuring smile at Cris, who's watching me with a furrowed brow, concern written on his face.

"I miss you. I'm in New York. Come and meet me," Vince suggests, a peculiar edge to his tone that sends a flicker of unease through me. What on earth is going on?

"Umm, sure, I'd love to meet with you," I reply, trying to sound enthusiastic despite my rising apprehension. I can sense my confusion is palpable; one of the nurses nearby notices my hesitation and gives me an awkward thumbs-up. I offer her a curt nod, dismissing her concern while straining to listen to the background noises surrounding our conversation. I hear someone speaking to Vince, but the words are indistinguishable through the static.

"Okay, that's great! Meet me by the docks at 7 PM. There's a new restaurant there that I'm dying to try," he announces, emphasizing the word "dying" in a way that sends a chill down my spine.

"I can't wait. I love you; bye," I say, trying to embrace the warmth of his words. But as I await the sound of the call disconnecting, all I hear is shuffling on the other end, followed by the unmistakable sound of his father laughing—mockingly.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Killing her on home turf will start a war with the Italians and the Americans. Maybe we should take some more men?" Vince's father's voice rings loud and clear, dripping with sinister amusement.

"Of course, she'll come alone—I'm absolutely certain of it," Vince's father sneers, his smug confidence radiating through the line. "There's no need for more than ten of us to keep her from slipping away."

With a surge of urgency, I abruptly end the call, my heart racing as I step outside the sterile walls of the hospital. The cool air brushes against my skin, fueling my anxiety. I fumble with my phone, my fingers trembling as I dial my mother's number. She picks up just before the call cuts to silence, and I feel a sharp pang in my chest as her familiar voice washes over me.

"Darling, what's the matter? I'm in the middle of something right now," she replies, her tone distracted. I can barely restrain the urge to cry, my voice cracking as I fight to maintain my composure.

"Mamá, Vince me llamó. Están en Nueva York y planean matarme. Su padre es quien planeó todo esto. Dije que me reuniría con él mañana a las 6 en el muelle. Supuestamente habrá 10 de ellos," I explain rapidly in Spanish, hoping no one around me will understand.

(Translation: Mom, Vince called me. They're in New York and they plan to kill me. His father is the one who planned this. I told him I'd meet him tomorrow at 7 at the docks. Supposedly there will be 10 of them.)

"Mierda. Quédate donde estás. Yo arreglaré esto, niña," Mamma curses.

(Translation: Shit. Stay where you are. I'll fix this, babygirl.)

"Me quedaré aquí con una condición. ¡Nadie puede matar a Vince! A propósito no colgó así sabríamos el plan."

(Translation: I will stay here on one condition. No one can kill Vince! He didn't hang up on purpose so we would know the plan.)

"War is a perilous landscape, bambina, you know that. While I can't guarantee anything, I will try to ensure his safety. I must return to my friend... before I begin orchestrating the ambush. I love you. Goodbye for now," Mamma sighs, her voice heavy with concentration. She blows a kiss into the phone, her affection lingering even across the distance, despite the noise of the man's screams just before she hangs up, not giving me a chance to say goodbye.

With a light tap on my phone screen, I send a quick message: "I love you too." After hitting send, I turn my gaze back to the hospital entrance, where Cris stands waiting, a warm smile lighting up his face.

As I approach, he opens his arms wide, and I don't hesitate to rush into his embrace, feeling the comfort of his presence wash over me. In that moment, I know there's no point in putting up walls—Cris can read me like an open book, effortlessly understanding my unspoken worries.

Nestled in his arms, I feel him mumbling softly into my hair, his voice a gentle whisper. "How about we reschedule tonight and grab lunch instead? I mean, everyone can manage without us for an hour." I nod against his shoulder, appreciating his thoughtful proposal as a wave of relief washes over me.

"That would be great. I would kill for one of your mom's tacos right now," I reply, and his chest rumbles against my ear as he laughs.

"Mom loves you, so I'm sure we could drop in and see if she has any leftovers."