Twisted Pride: Chapter 22

Roger’s Arena was packed for my fight as I strode in. Nino followed close behind as we walked toward the booth where Adamo, Savio, Kiara, Leona, and Fabiano were waiting. I was already in my fight shorts, and my body thrummed with barely contained bloodlust.

Roger helped behind the bar for once and gave me a nod in greeting, which I returned. The audience was throwing glances my way, eager, curious, terrified. My fights were always particularly popular—for those who could stomach them. Griffin looked fucking ecstatic as he noted the bets down.

“Who are the unlucky souls you’ll fight?” Savio asked curiously.

“Ask Nino.” I didn’t care who they were. I’d rip them to shreds either way.

“Two ex-cons. Both on the run. Both in desperate need of money and new identities. Out of options,” Nino said matter-of-factly. “One of them kicked his pregnant wife half to death and she lost the baby. Already served a sentence because of manslaughter. The other spent half of his life in jail for child molestation.”

“Sounds like they deserve their death sentence,” Fabiano said with a grin, his arm wrapped around Leona and she smiled up at him in adoration. The sight spiked my fury, and I focused on the cage. “They will wish for the death penalty when I’m done with them.”

The ref called out my name, and I walked through the parting crowd toward the cage and the two dead men waiting for me inside.

The crowd roared and clapped, ecstatic. I swung myself into the cage and assessed my opponents. One of them was taller and broader than me. Maybe I could imagine it was Luca. It would add a nice thrill. The other was short but bull-like, and his stance suggested he was a boxer. Both looked like they knew how to pack a punch. Good.

The moment the fight began, they attacked together. I gripped the short one and rammed my knee into his side but was grabbed from behind by the giant. Short guy scrambled toward me and landed a punch in my stomach. I jerked my head forward and smashed it against his. He staggered and I kicked out against his chest, catapulting myself and the fucker who held me from behind. We crashed into the cage, and I jumped out of Big Guy’s hold. Whirling around, I pushed off the ground and flying-kicked his fucking face, breaking nose, chin, and cheekbone. Blood splattered everywhere, and he fell backward, holding his face. That would keep him busy for a while.

I turned toward Short Guy and smiled. The audience roared. They knew that smile. The look in my opponent’s eyes was familiar: panic and horrified realization. I stalked toward him, and he raised his fists. I feigned an attack, causing him to stumble back. I chuckled. This was going to be fun. I lunged at him, kicking and punching hard without mercy. The cries of the crowd and the fucking whimpers of my opponent spurred me on, but the fucking hollowness in my chest remained. I kicked him over and over again until everything was red. When he didn’t even twitch anymore, I let up.

The other guy had his back turned to me and was shaking the cage door, wanting out.

“No one’s going to open that door. If you want out of this cage, you’ll have to kill me.”

Big Guy turned, face swollen and bloody. He tried his best. Soon I had him in a choke hold, and then I smashed his face against the cage. Once. Twice, and then over and over again. I couldn’t fucking stop. I needed to crush something.

“Remo.”

Smash.

“Remo!”

Smash.

A hand gripped my shoulder and ripped me backward. I released the bloody pulp and stared at Nino. His face was splattered with small red dots. Blood.

I glanced down at myself then at the floor. It was silent in the arena and everyone was staring at me in open horror.

“I won,” I muttered.

Nino shook his head. “Come.”

I followed him out of the cage and toward the changing room. The crowd parted even wider. The stench of vomit hung heavy in the air. Griffin was pressing a fucking tissue over his mouth.

Inside the changing room, I stripped off my drenched fight shorts, leaving a red trail on the ground as I stepped inside the shower. The hot water remained red for a long while, and Nino watched me the entire time from his spot on the bench, his elbows propped up on his thighs.

“Like what you see?”

He didn’t say anything, and it was starting to piss me off.

Grabbing a towel, I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off. “Say what you’ve got to say.”

Nino regarded me with a small frown. “Is this because of Serafina? Do I have to worry?”

My lips pulled wide. “I don’t have a heart that can be broken, Nino. Stop the fucking hovering.”

“She won’t come back to you, Remo. She’ll try to find her way back into the Outfit where she thinks she belongs. If you wait for her to come to you freely, you’ll be met with disappointment.”

I bent low, meeting his eyes. “I don’t care if she comes back or not. There are whores to fuck, Outfit bastards to kill, and the fucking Bratva to piss off.”

I got dressed in the pants Nino handed me. Then we left. Part of the crowd had already left, the others were whispering quietly. Nino led me toward the booth, but only Savio was there, and he regarded me like I had risen straight from Hell. “Where is everyone?”

“Well,” Savio muttered. “Kiara and Adamo are probably busy throwing up, and Fabiano and Leona went outside with them to keep watch.”

Nino’s frown deepened at the mentioning of Kiara. We headed outside and found them all in the parking lot beside our cars. Adamo sat on the hood of Nino’s car, smoking. Kiara was bent over behind the trunk, heaving, and Fabiano had his arm wrapped around Leona’s shoulder, who looked a little faint.

Nino went over to his wife and rubbed her back.

Fabiano shook his head. “What the hell, Remo?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’ve seen me do worse. We tortured together.” And after what he’d done to his father, he really had no business being shocked by me losing control.

Savio snorted. “We’ve all seen you torture, but you never lost control like that. Take a look at the video footage and if your expression doesn’t scare even you shitless then I don’t know what to say.” He went over to Adamo and took the cigarette from him, taking a deep pull.

“You don’t smoke,” Adamo grumbled.

“I need to get rid of the vomit taste in my mouth.”

“Don’t tell me you threw up as well,” I said.

Savio cocked his eyebrow. “No. But when people around me started ejecting their food, I could practically taste it in my mouth.”

I felt Fabiano’s eyes on me and met his gaze, daring him to say something. He didn’t. Adamo couldn’t meet my eyes, and I didn’t have the necessary patience tonight to deal with him. Maybe tomorrow. Nino finally managed to calm Kiara, who leaned into him, pale and sweaty. She locked eyes with me. It wasn’t disgust or fear I saw in her gaze but compassion and understanding, and it sent a new wave of rage through me.

“Keys,” I ordered, holding out my hands to Nino.

He shook his head. “You’re not driving anywhere right now.”

“Give me the fucking keys,” I growled.

“No.”

“I can drive you,” Adamo quipped.

I slanted a look at him. Of course he’d come with his new car, and of course he wasn’t sitting on its hood. Nino nodded, as if I needed his fucking permission to get into Adamo’s car.

“Then let’s go, kiddo,” I muttered.

Adamo hopped off Nino’s car, threw away his stub, and got into his Mustang. The moment I sank down into the passenger seat and closed the door, Adamo shot out of the parking lot. “Where do you want to go?”

I rubbed my temple. “I want to kill and maim but now that I have you to keep an eye on, that won’t fucking happen.”

“I think I’m meant to babysit you tonight. Nino’s worried,” Adamo said.

I shook my head. “Fucking nuisances, all of you.”

“You scared the shit out of me tonight.”

“I hope that wasn’t the first time or I’m doing something wrong.”

“I’ve been scared of you before. When you sent Fabiano after me because of the cocaine. But today I was kind of scared for you.”

“Trust me, Adamo, you have absolutely no reason to be scared for me.”

Adamo frowned. “Is it because of her?”

My brothers seemed intent to test the limit of my patience. “Shut up and drive.”

“Where?”

“Home. Just take us home.”

SERAFINA

Mom and I sat in the garden on a swing, enjoying a warm fall day. I’d been back for only two days, and it was the first time Mom and I were really alone. Our feet gently kicked the ground to keep the swing in motion. Mom held my hand, peering up at the sky.

I knew she had questions but couldn’t ask them, and I wasn’t sure if I could give her answers.

“Why did you give Sofia to Danilo?” I asked eventually to say something.

“It’s not what we wanted, not what Danilo wanted, but we need to bind our families. It’s what’s expected,” Mom said. “And he’s a decent man.”

“You said the same words to me on my wedding day.”

Mom paled but managed a small nod. “I wanted to take away your fears.”

“I know.”

Her blue eyes held mine, filling with anguish. She touched my cheek. “I wanted only the best for you. I wanted happiness. I wanted a man who would carry you on his hands, who showed you kindness like your father did to me.” She looked away briefly, gathering herself. “I can’t imagine the horrors you lived, Fina, but I wish I could have suffered them in your stead.”

“Mom,” I whispered. “It’s not like you all think. I didn’t suffer the way you believe. Remo didn’t force me.”

“Your father didn’t allow me to see the video where he cut you, but I saw the sheets. I see the marks on your throat. Don’t make light of your suffering to make me feel better, love. Don’t.”

She cradled my face, her eyes fierce, determined. She, too, would never understand the extent of my betrayal. My family needed me to be the victim in this.

I wanted to belong, wanted to be part of the Outfit again, but every passing day, it became more obvious that part of me had stayed in Vegas with Remo. People were talking. They did it behind closed doors mostly, but I caught the pitying glances of the bodyguards and maids. All my life people had regarded me with admiration and respect, and now I was someone to pity. They didn’t know I wasn’t the victim, not in the sense they all thought.

And I had been shielded from attention so far. I hadn’t left the house, hadn’t attended any social gatherings, but eventually I’d have to make an appearance or the speculations would rise even higher. I needed to show them that I wasn’t hiding, that I had no reason to hide.

More than three months since Remo had kidnapped me. More than four weeks since he’d set me free—body not soul. Sometimes I managed to forget him for a few minutes, only to be reminded with a crushing force, but it was getting better. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe Remo’s brainwashing was ceasing. Maybe I could be free one day.

Today my family would return to the public, would show strength, would show that we weren’t broken, that I wasn’t. It was Dad’s fiftieth birthday, and the party had been planned for almost a year, a splendid feast with family and friends, with Underbosses and Captains.

My parents had considered calling the party off, but I had convinced them to celebrate. Life had to go on.

Dante, Valentina, and the kids were staying with us as well, and I was excited to see them again. I busied myself helping Mom prepare for the party these last few weeks, needing to distract myself, trying to ignore the nagging fear at the back of my head that grew louder every day.

I stared up at the ceiling in my room. It was already late, and I needed to choose a dress, get ready, and help Mom, but I couldn’t move. For the last two hours I lay motionless, except for my shallow breathing.

I’d got my period the last week of August. It was the end of October now. My fingers traced my belly, terrified, immobilized.

Slowly, I got out of bed and perched on its edge for a long time, letting a horrible realization fill my bones. Two months since my last period. Closing my eyes, I swallowed. I’d never taken the pill during my time with Remo, and he had never used protection, wanting to claim me without that barrier between us. I stared up at the ceiling, praying that it wasn’t true. It would be the end of all my hopes, of everything.

I swallowed again. A knock sounded. “Fina, are you awake?”

Samuel. It was already late and what he was really asking was if I was okay. I wasn’t. I should be getting ready, should play my part, be strong for appearance’s sake.

“Come in,” I said.

He opened the door and stepped in, already dressed in dark pants and a royal blue dress shirt. His eyes took in my rumpled state. He moved toward me and crouched down in front of me. “What’s wrong?”

I considered keeping my suspicion to myself, but it was a truth I wouldn’t be able to hide from them. If it really was true …

I met his gaze. “I think I’m pregnant.”

Samuel froze, eyes widening in shock. “You mean …” He swallowed, staring at my flat stomach. His expression twisted with anger, sadness and worse … disgust.

Disgust, because this was Remo’s baby. He leaned his forehead against my thigh and released a shuddering breath.

“I will kill him. I swear it. One day I’m going to kill Remo Falcone in the cruelest way possible.”

I touched his head. “Can you … can you get Mom? I need a pregnancy test. I need to know for sure.”

Samuel straightened and stood. With a last glance at me, he left. I couldn’t move. If I was pregnant with Remo’s child … I couldn’t even finish the thought. I didn’t want to, not yet, not before I had certainty.

A few minutes later, Mom stepped in, her face pale. We looked at each other before she walked toward me and touched my cheek. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through this, Fina. We will get through this.”

“I know,” I said. “Can you get a test for me?”

“I will ask Valentina. Maybe she’s got a spare test. She and Dante are trying for another child.”

Mom dropped her hand and left the room. I stood, taking a deep breath. Maybe there was another explanation, but deep down I knew the truth.

Mom returned with a test. I took it from her with shaking hands. “Can you leave me alone? I’ll come downstairs once I’m ready.”

Mom hesitated but then she kissed my cheek. I watched the closed door for a while before I forced myself to get up from the bed and move to the bathroom. My heart beat in my throat when I unpackaged the test.

Fifteen minutes later I stared down at the test in my hands, at the truth that shattered the last shred of hope I’d held. Hope that I could ever find my way back into the Outfit. Hope that I could forget Remo. As if there was a way I could have ever forgotten him. I stared at the two lines on the test.

Pregnant.

With Remo Falcone’s child.

A man of unparalleled cruelty and mercilessness.

The man who’d robbed me of my innocence, of my future … of my heart.

Body and soul.

I own you.

Oh, Remo, if you knew what you gave away …

I set the test down and touched my stomach. It seemed unreal, impossible.

Pregnant.

My heart was a war-torn land: two conflicting emotions battling for dominance, leaving nothing but devastation in their wake. Unbridled happiness that a small human was growing inside of me. A small part of Remo that would always remain with me. And raw fear of the future, of my—of our future. Our world was cruel to women who got pregnant out of wedlock; it was even crueler to children born out of wedlock.

Damned to be called bastards. A child of Remo Falcone couldn’t hope for a kinder name. I’d protect my child, but I wouldn’t always be there to fend off the attacks. It would be strong enough to defend itself, no doubt, but the idea that my baby would have to grow strong out of necessity, because the world forced it into a corner, made me furious. I tried to calm my raging emotions. I was getting ahead of myself. I came from a good family, maybe things would be different for my child, no matter who their father was.

Taking a deep breath, I headed downstairs. My family was gathered in the dining room, and when I entered they all fell silent. Mom. Dad. Valentina. Dante. Samuel. Dante’s kids. Anna, Leonas, my sister Sofia. The room was already decorated for the event, and in the garden a white tent had been set up, which held the dance floor. The caterer would arrive in about two hours, the guests in three. A day of celebration.

Mom motioned at Sofia, Anna, and Leonas. “Out. Go to your rooms for now.” They did, no protests. In passing Sofia gave me a small smile.

I looked at Samuel. He got up, slowly, hesitantly, and our eyes met. His expression fell, turning desperate.

“I’m pregnant.”

Mom covered her mouth with her hand, and Dad closed his eyes. Valentina regarded me with sympathy, and Dante gave a terse nod. No celebrations. No happiness.

Samuel slowly sank back down onto his chair. From hundreds of miles away and not knowing it, Remo had landed another hit.

“It’s still early. We can call the doc and he will get rid of it,” Dad said, face pale and worried when he finally met my gaze.

My stomach tightened and something angry and protective reared its head in my chest. My child.

Mom nodded slowly. “You don’t have to keep it.”

Samuel only looked at me. He knew me. Until recently better than anyone else, but Remo had seen parts of me nobody knew, my darkest parts. “You want to keep it,” he said quietly, uncomprehending.

I touched my stomach. “I will keep this child. I will take care of it and love it and protect it. It’s mine.” And the moment the words left my mouth, I knew it with certainty. This child would be born, and whoever tried to take it from me would see how strong I was.

Silence greeted me. Then Dante nodded once. “It’s your decision.”

“It is,” I said firmly.

Mom got up. It was obvious that she was fighting with herself. I walked up to her because she couldn’t move and touched her shoulders. “We will get through this, right? This baby is innocent. It’s my baby.”

Mom smiled shakily. “You are right, sweetheart.”

Dad got up and touched my cheek. “We will stand by your side.” I could see how much these words cost him. I wasn’t sure if my family could get past the fact that my child was Remo’s child. Would they love it because it was mine or hate it because it was his?