Chapter 38 - Marco

"Before you go, you should know why your father hates me so much. There's a lot you don't know about our history, but I think it's time you knew!"

I knew this could be a low blow; it wasn't how I wanted to reveal my demons, but all I cared about now was pulling Angela further to my side. I couldn't trust her feelings for me in the short time we'd spent together, compared to the love she had for her mother and siblings, with whom she'd spent her whole life.

"About our history?" she questioned, turning to me, but she still stayed by the door.

"The history of the war between our families." I swallowed hard and clenched my fist. She needed to know, even if she didn't believe me. "There was a time when everything was bloody between the two mafias—the clashes were constant, and one night they managed to invade my house."

I averted my eyes from hers, unable to see all the curiosity etched there when I knew I was about to pour out one of my worst nightmares.

"What happened that night, Marco?" Her voice sounded closer, and I didn't need to lift my head to know she'd walked over to the table.

"Many soldiers died that night. I could hear the incessant gunshots destroying everything downstairs and on the lawn." I took a deep breath, almost able to feel the scent of my own fear seeping from my pores. And I hated myself for it. "Nero was a child and was terrified. I hid him in the closet and should have gone in with him, but Mel was just a baby, and I could hear her crying at the end of the hall."

My eyes were fixed on the table in front of me, on the blueprints showing the house where Angela grew up, but all I could see were the images from that night.

"Whatever bad happened that night, what matters is that you're all well and alive," I felt a hand touch my arm, and I pulled away quickly—I couldn't bear to be touched while telling her this. "It's your past; it can't hurt you anymore."

I wished she was right. I'd never wanted so badly for Angela to be right and for it not to be able to hurt me, but that night shaped me into who I am and transformed my entire family.

"I opened the door, but I didn't even have time to reach the hallway—a man shoved me back into the room, holding a gun to me." I squeezed my eyes shut, hating the power that memory still had over me. "Before I could understand what was happening, my pajamas were torn off, and I was raped in my own bed..."

"No!" she screamed, startling me and making me lift my head instantly. "No, you were... You were just a child!"

Her eyes filled with tears, her chin trembled as her eyes widened, showing all her shock. I wanted to hug her, but besides the disgust I felt for myself in that moment, I couldn't bear anyone's touch—not even hers.

"He didn't care about that; they only saw it as a way to punish my father. He made me scream in pain as he tore through my body and innocence, not caring how sick what he was doing was." Angela brought her hand to her mouth, showing even more horror, but that wasn't even half the horror of that night. "I wasn't the only one traumatized that night. My screams were so loud they terrified Nero, who was locked away without knowing what was happening outside. I screamed and cried loud enough for my mother to leave Mel in the room and come to mine, only to find me in the most degrading situation possible."

"Marco... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you went through all that."

"My mother offered herself in my place—after all, hurting the Don's wife was better than one of his children." I averted my gaze from hers again; I didn't want to see her reaction to the rest of that macabre story. "The bastard got up and shoved me to the other side of the room; I hit my forehead against the mirror."

"Was... Was that how you got your scar?" she questioned, but I was grateful she didn't come any closer.

"Yes, that one and so many others. I was dizzy—whether from the blow and the blood running down my forehead or all the pain I was feeling, I don't know—but when I saw my mother being raped by that monster, holding back her sobs so as not to scare her own children, an immense force took hold of me. I spotted his gun and didn't think twice before lunging for it and shooting the bastard."

Her eyebrows furrowed, and tears streamed down her cheeks like a river. Angela couldn't hold back anymore, and before I could react, her arms were around my body, hugging me tightly and leaving me rigid.

"I'm so sorry for all of it," she murmured against my neck and then pulled away, looking at me. "You were just a boy; you shouldn't have gone through any of that. This is one more reason to end this stupid war—the innocents suffer the most."

I took a deep breath and shook my head in agreement with her. But there was an important part she didn't know yet.

"Your father lost his brother that same day."

"Uncle Giancarlo—I had no idea it was the same day, but my father always talked about his death and how unjust it was. They were very close, and it destroyed him." Hearing her words only made my blood boil; I had an idea of the lies they told about him, but I'd never heard it firsthand.

I grabbed her wrists, yanking her hands away from me and taking a step back.

"The man who abused me and my mother was your uncle!" I affirmed, feeling hatred and disgust sweep through my body. "I—the six-year-old boy who was violated and terrified—killed the 'unjustly' Giancarlo."

"No... No, it can't be," Angela murmured, staggering away from me. "My uncle wouldn't do that; he wouldn't... There are rules in the mafia—he wouldn't be remembered after what he did to you. No, he wouldn't do that!"

She ran, denying and screaming as she moved farther away, back to the door with a horrified and terrified look.

"He did, Angela—we did! That night, I learned I needed to kill monsters. I had to kill anyone who harmed me or my family." I lifted my chin, feeling my heart race and breathing become difficult amid that whirlwind of emotions. "Your father has always lied to you about everything, always hidden the truth about the monstrosity in his blood!"

"You're lying; you're... You're saying this to jus... justify your hatred for him." Hearing those words hurt me; I hadn't thought it would feel like a knife stabbing my chest. I hadn't imagined that she, of all people, wouldn't believe my words.

"Get out!" I bellowed, watching her body jolt in shock. "Go save your family—the ones you love—and when you're face-to-face with your mother, ask her who killed your uncle and why. Then you'll know who's the liar here."

Angela ran out of the room crying, and I allowed myself to collapse. I closed my eyes and lowered my head, gripping the papers on the table with pure hatred as a few solitary tears slid down my face.

I shouldn't want her; the sensible thing would be to hate her and let the worst happen to her and her family. But I was incapable of wishing harm on Angela. Just thinking about what could happen to her during the invasion made my chest tighten.

The truth was, she was as innocent in all this as I was until that night. Angela and her siblings weren't to blame for anything—there was only one guilty party.

"Mancini has to die, and not a day more!"