Chapter 5

Unspoken Truths - Chapter 5

Damian

I sat in the chair beside Sareena’s bed, clutching her hand like it was the only thing tethering me to reality, willing her to wake up. Willing her to come back to me. I hadn’t cried in as long as I could remember and I definitely hadn’t prayed. The last time I did was when my mom died. But today… I did both. I wiped the tears from my face just as Gino burst through the door, huffing like he’d run a marathon.

“What is it, old man?” I snapped, the bitterness raw in my voice. I didn’t trust him, but I needed him sharp, not rattled.

“Damian,” he panted, “I was walking past the nurses’ station, and I heard one of them give out Sareena’s room number, to a man. She called him sir.” His eyes tightened with worry. “After what I just found out… I’ve got a bad feeling. I paid for her to be moved to a private suite, but I don’t think that’ll be enough.”

My jaw locked. “You didn’t trust me,” I growled. “I told you Sophia was dangerous…”

He cut me off. “It wasn’t Sophia, it was a man calling. If Sophia wanted information on her sister, she could’ve gone through me. She’s Sareena’s sister, not her…”

“Don’t.” I rose from the chair, towering over him. “I don’t care who she is. She’s a threat to Sareena, and we’re not waiting around for someone to finish what she started.”

Without another word, I pulled out my phone and dialed the officer who’d taken our statements earlier. He’d left his card in case anything else came up. He answered on the second ring.

“We’ve been receiving threats,” I said flatly. “I want police protection for Sareena, and I need a restriction on her medical records. No information goes out, not to anyone, until this case is closed.”

He didn’t ask questions. Just said he’d take care of it.

Next, I called Matt. “I need four of our men stationed outside Sareena’s room. Round-the-clock shifts. No one gets in or out unless it’s cleared by me. Understood?”

“I’m on it,” Matt said.

“Any word on our expected company?

“Still tracking. They’re vacationing,” he replied.

I muttered a curse and then turned to Gino. “You’re going back to the Morelli estate. Someone needs to keep an eye on Sophia. You are not to tell her about the new room, Sareena’s health, or even breathe a word about what you’ve heard.” His mouth opened in protest, but I shut him down with a glare sharp enough to slice skin.

“Don’t argue with me,” I said, voice low and lethal. “I don’t care what she is to you. If she so much as breathes in Sareena’s direction….” I stepped closer, eyes locked on his. “I’ll send her straight to the gutters.”

Gino’s expression darkened, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He knew I meant every goddamn word.

⸻

The nurses came to transfer Sareena not long after Gino left. He’d walked out right after my threat, and I still couldn’t decide if his loyalty to Sophia was love or sheer stupidity. Either way, he couldn’t be fully trusted.

The new room was spacious, located on a higher floor, better, and more secure. My men could guard it without drawing too much attention.

The officer had done his part, too. The hospital’s director personally came to see me, assuring me they took patient confidentiality seriously. Sareena’s information had been wiped from all public records. No one outside of us would know where she was.

Now, it was time to set the trap. The three other patients who had shared her room were quietly moved to another ward. In their place, I had my men stationed inside resting, but always alert. Light sleepers. Trained killers. If anyone tried to get in, they wouldn’t leave in one piece.

By 10 p.m., everything was set. My best men were on watch, each one stopping by to show loyalty before taking their position.

I stepped into Sareena’s room just as a nurse was stripping off her underwear. My brows furrowed. What the hell? I moved closer, watching as they prepared to insert something. “Stop,” I said sharply. “She can’t have anything put up there. She’s a virgin, she’s taken some stupid religious hocus pocus vow. Nothing is supposed to go in.”

The nurse glanced up, clearly amused, trying her hardest not to laugh in my face. “Sir, a catheter goes into the urethra, not the vaginal opening. It doesn’t affect virginity or the hymen in any way. I appreciate your concern for your little sister, though.”

Little sister? What the fuck? Could everyone tell I was a lot older than her?

She turned back to Sareena, adjusting her gown, clearly done with me.

My eyes flicked to Sareena’s clothes on the floor. I grabbed them, stuffing them into a bag. I’d have them cleaned and brought back for her.

Once things settled down, I sank into the chair beside her bed and reached for her hand. I needed to feel her. Any part of her.

I was finally starting to relax, but my phone buzzed. Matt was at the Catalano’s House.

⸻

Matthew

Lorne Catalano and his wife, Emilia, were lounging in the front room, sipping espresso like it was just another quiet Wednesday morning. That illusion shattered the second they heard the loud bang.

“Well, well… what do we have here?” I mutter, stepping through the splintered front doors. “Sorry about the door. It was easier to kick it in than to ring the doorbell and wait for the invitation.”

“Matthew?” Lorne rises; brows furrowed. “What the fuck are you doing? This is our home, you can’t just walk in like that. Shouldn’t you be busy with your new responsibilities? Gennaro mentioned you’re stepping in for Damian now that he’s a Captain.”

He’s clueless. Like a little lamb at a butcher’s door. “That’s on hold,” I say, my voice low and even. “We’ve got rats that need to be rounded up first.” I glance around the room slowly. Deliberate, cold, like I expect something filthy to crawl out from behind the furniture. “Where are your kids?”

Lorne stiffens. “Matt… what’s going on? What did Eric do? And Anita, she’s not part of any of this.”

I give him a look, just enough to make him sweat. “Then you won’t mind coming with us,” I say, voice like a blade. “You. Emilia. The kids. We’ve got business to settle. Gennaro sent me. He wants words. With all of you. Now.”

Behind me, what’s left of the front doors creak open, and four of our guys step in - buttoned up, silent and lethal. Lorne’s eyes flick past me to them, and that’s when it sinks in.

His daughter cracked Sareena in the back of the head without warning, without mercy. Sareena could’ve died. I may not know Sareena all that well, but in the short time I spent with her, she felt like family. Like the kind of kid, you’d protect with your life. Sweet. Sharp and way too pure for this world of lies and betrayal. And they think they can sit here, drink their coffee, and play innocent?

“Call your children. Now,” I grind out.

Eric comes down first when Lorne calls for him. Poor bastard may be clean; but around here, we don’t bet on maybes.

“Hey, Matt,” he says, walking toward me with a sheepish smile, hand outstretched.

I reach for it, but instead of shaking, I grip his arm tight and pull him in close, nose to nose. “Start reading the fucking room,” I growl, then shove him to the floor like trash. He is officially a made man and should know when to go into protection mode.

Emilia gasps and jumps up to help him, but my guys step in, stone-faced, blocking her.

“None of you seem to understand what’s happening here,” I snap. “This isn’t a social visit. Someone in this house attacked someone very important to us, and until we get to the bottom of it, you better do as you’re fucking told.” I step forward, slow and menacing. “So, here’s how this works. You either call that whore of a daughter down here, or I start carving souvenirs; skin-deep.” Capisce?

Lorne opens his mouth, then shuts it. Emilia’s face turns pale.

“Hurry the fuck up. I’m not in the mood for games,” I bark, loud enough to shake the windows.

“I’ll get her,” Emilia blurts, scrambling out of the room like her soul’s about to be claimed.

It takes less than a minute for both Anita and Emilia to come down the stairs. Anita’s eyes are already wide with fear, and we haven’t even started yet.

“Well, well… look who finally showed up to the party.” I sneer. “Hi, Anita. I’m guessing Damian’s words are still rattling around that messed-up little head of yours.” I take a step toward her, smiling cold. “He meant every single fucking syllable.”

Then I laugh. Slow, cruel, and deliberate. The kind of laugh that makes the walls lean in and the air go still.