“Ines,” I said softly. “These kids don’t ever need to know who their father is.”
She made a choked sound. “They are his spitting image, Val. People will talk. It’s impossible not to know whose kids they are. Heaven have mercy, what are we supposed to do?”
“We can’t do anything but help Fina deal with the situation. How did she take it?” Some rape victims couldn’t bear it if their children resembled their abuser but so far Serafina had recovered surprisingly well. She’d insisted she wasn’t raped. Dante and the others didn’t believe her, blaming it on Stockholm Syndrome. I wasn’t entirely sure, but I had no right to pry unless Fina confided in me.
“She’s completely smitten with them. It’s as if she doesn’t even notice that they look like Falcones.”
“They are her children.”
“I know I shouldn’t say it, but I wish she would have never gotten them,” Ines whispered.
I wasn’t sure if Ines had exaggerated about the similarities but when I saw the twins for the first time two days later, it took effort not to show my shock.
Their hair was pitch black and their eyes impossible dark. They didn’t look like Cavallaros or Miones. They were Falcones, at least by blood, but they’d learn to be part of our family, of the Outfit.
Later that day, I found Fina in the nursery with her twins, bent over their shared crib, a soft smile on her face. She looked up briefly when I entered before she turned her attention back to her kids.
“I know what everyone’s thinking,” she said fiercely. “I’m not blind. You all want them gone.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not true, Fina. It’s difficult for your family to accept who their father is, that’s all.”
Fina chuckled joylessly. “Why can’t they accept it when I can? Why can’t they see them for what they are? Innocent children.”
I stopped beside her. Nevio and Greta slept close together, their hands touching. They had each other and they’d need their bond to brave the judgment of our world. “It’ll take time.”
“I’ll protect them no matter what it takes.”
I squeezed her shoulder. “You are their mother, of course you will.”
A knock sounded and Dante poked his head in. “Dinner’s ready.” He came in, his gaze striking the children before he focused on Fina. He couldn’t bear looking at them. I hadn’t noticed it before.
“I’ll be down in a bit,” Fina said with a tense smile.
I followed Dante outside and linked our fingers, facing him. “What was that?”
His brows rose. “What?”
“You couldn’t even look at the babies.”
Dante’s mouth tightened. “If you’d come face to face with Remo Falcone, and then looked at Nevio… damn, Val. That boy’s going to look just like that bastard.”
“But he isn’t Remo. He’s Nevio Mione. He’s a part of our family, a part of the Outfit.”
“I’m not sure the boy can ever be part of the Outfit, at least not in a position of importance. My men would never accept him.”
My eyes widened. “Don’t tell Fina. Not yet. She’ll never forgive you if you punish Nevio for his father’s sins.”
“I’m not punishing him, but I have to keep the Outfit in mind. A child of Remo Falcone will cause too much discord. Not to mention that the Falcone blood carries madness.”
I pursed my lips. “I think you let your hate for Remo overrule your logic, Dante. Don’t lose yourself in useless fury.”
He smiled darkly. “Val, whenever I think of Remo, and that is every time I look at Serafina or her children, all I am is pure rage and thirst for revenge. I won’t rest until I get my vengeance.”
I swallowed hard because his eyes showed absolute determination. Nothing I could say would change it. “Don’t allow it to destroy everything we care about.”
“I won’t allow it to destroy anything.”
* * *
Months passed and we returned to a tentative routine in Chicago. Dante and his men were diligently working on revenge but Dante kept his promise.
The kids and I remained untouched of his pursuit of revenge, and even Dante seemed calmer and less haunted.
I thought we might be on a good way toward mutual ignorance with the Camorra.
Maybe I had been foolish.
Any dream of peace, of normalcy was shattered when Dante, Danilo, Pietro and Samuel got their hands on Adamo Falcone, Remo’s youngest brother.
Shortly after Dante got the news about the capture, he got ready to leave for the safehouse where they kept the boy. A boy, only fifteen.
Dante was withdrawn, lost in his thoughts as he put on his jacket over his gun and knife holster. A knife he’d use today?
“Dante,” I said quietly. “The boy is fifteen. Serafina said he never hurt her.”
“He is not innocent, Val,” Dante growled, his eyes flashing angrily. “He’s part of the Camorra. He is a Falcone. You don’t know the first thing about this family. If you did, you wouldn’t even consider asking me to spare Adamo Falcone.”
His anger hit me unexpectedly.
I nodded slowly. He was right, I didn’t know anything about the Falcones except for the rumors making the rounds and the few things Serafina had said since she’d been freed. What I knew was that Adamo would pay for a crime he hadn’t committed yet. Maybe he’d become as cruel as his brothers, but right now he wasn’t.
“Leonas will be inducted in three years, will that make him guilty for your crimes as well?”
Dante tensed. “That’s not the same.”
Wasn’t it? I didn’t know. In less than two weeks Leonas would turn nine, still a little boy in my eyes, but for our enemies he was a future Capo in the making, a potential enemy.
“Dante?” Pietro called, his voice ringing with open eagerness.
I shuddered.
“I need to leave now. We can continue this discussion tonight.”
He hesitated then he came toward me and kissed my lips before he stalked out. Slowly I walked after him but I stopped halfway down the staircase. Samuel gave his father a grin which he returned. Their hunger for revenge was tangible. Dante didn’t even bother hiding the dark hunger for blood.
I clutched the banister, feeling a little lost.
Before they left, Dante looked up once more but his eyes didn’t reflect conflict. Adamo Falcone wouldn’t be granted any mercy. He’d suffer in his brother’s stead.
I headed downstairs and into the living room where I found Ines, Sofia and Anna with the twins. Nevio was crawling over the floor while Greta clung to Ines. The little girl looked a bit lost without Fina.
“I don’t like that Fina’s going to be there when they torture that Falcone boy.”
Anna gave me a wide-eyed look. I’d hoped she wouldn’t find out about the torture but Ines was lost in her worry and didn’t even realize how much she revealed in front of our girls.
“Fina said the boy is not much older than Sofia and me, only fifteen,” Anna said.
“He’s a Camorrista,” Ines said. Nevio crawled toward me, and I picked him up. His dark eyes flashed up to me, and I tried to imagine how Dante and the other men could see only bad when they looked at this boy.