"Was he really...? I mean, is he...?"
She couldn't even say the word. Dead.
"It's not safe for you here," Matty said quietly, not answering her question, but the truth was there, swimming in his bloodshot eyes. "You need to go home."
"I can't." She shook her head. "How can you even say that? I can't be there with them. Not now. Not after..."
"I have to deal with this," Matty said, brushing the tears from her cheeks. "When it's over, I'll come for you, and we'll leave. We'll get the hell out of New York and never look back."
"You promise?"
"I swear it, but until then, home is the safest place for you." Before she could argue, Matty grabbed a hold of an officer as the man strode past. "I need someone to escort Miss Galante home right away. She shouldn't be out here."
The officer nodded, surveying her. "I'll handle it."
"Thank you."
Matty gazed at Genna for a moment before pulling her toward him and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I love you."
"I love you, too," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."
"Yeah," he mumbled, looking away from her as she stood up to follow the officer to a waiting car. "I'm sorry, too."
The Barsanti residence appeared abandoned, a shell of a once-loving household, now shrouded in shadows and doused with coldness. Matty parked right out front and sat in his car for a moment, staring at the front door. It was quiet and dark, all except for a subtle glow of light coming from a room on the second floor.
His father's study.
The police hadn't come by to make the official notification yet and probably wouldn't for a few more hours, but Matty wasn't a fool—he knew his father would know by now. Roberto likely knew the second Enzo took his last shaky breath.
Roberto hadn't gone to the hospital, though, and he hadn't shown up at the scene. That subtle glow streaming through the curtains upstairs told Matty he hadn't gone anywhere. He sat tight, and waited… and waited… and waited…
But for what?
Matty wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Pushing his apprehension aside, he climbed out of the car and headed up onto the porch, using the spare key his mother had given him to go inside. Quietly, he ascended the stairs, his feet sounding like steel against the wooden floor, the sound bouncing off the white walls, as he made his way straight to the study.
The door was wide-open. Roberto sat in his plush leather chair, his gaze trained on the top of his barren desk. He didn't look up when Matty entered, didn't speak, although the subtle slumping of his shoulders as he let out a deep breath told Matty he knew he was there.
Slowly, Matty stepped into the room, his gaze shifting from his father to the table of weapons right inside. He trailed his fingers along the long barrel of a rifle, the metal cool against his fingertips. Every muscle in his body ached, pain stabbing at his chest every time he breathed deeply, but it was nothing compared to the mental anguish going on inside of him.
Nothing compared to the fresh sting of the memory.
"They killed him." Roberto was quiet, although a restrained quiver accented his words as he fought to keep his voice steady. "He's dead."
Matty sighed, wincing at the discomfort in his chest. He fought back tears, keeping his mouth closed so not to inadvertently let a sob loose. Instead, he nodded, despite knowing his father still wasn't looking at him.
"They killed my boy," Roberto said again, his voice cracking that time, his grip slipping as grief shined through. "They took him from me."
Matty's hand skimmed overtop of a box of ammunition before his fingertips grazed the ridged grip of a pistol. He picked it up, grasping it tightly and gazing at it clenched in his hand. After a moment, he slid it into his pocket, concealing it, and grabbed the box of ammunition.
Without uttering a single word, he turned around and left.
Matty was in a daze as he sped through Manhattan, weaving in and out of the streets, no clear destination in mind. Lines were a blur to him, neighborhoods meaning nothing anymore. Eventually, he ended up cruising out of Manhattan, heading north, telling himself he was just going to look. He was just going to watch. He was just going to see…
He parked the Lotus along the street, not far from the Galante residence, giving him a view of the house. It was dark, almost as dark as his family's house had been, only a few dim lights on in the sprawling mansion. Were they sleeping, he wondered? Resting soundly in their beds, not a care in the world, no sweat off their backs.
How callous, how cruel, could people be?
Getting out of the car, curiosity getting the best of him, he crept toward the house. He felt a twinge of guilt that he had sent Genna back here, that he had insisted she go home, but it wasn't safe for her elsewhere. If Roberto Barsanti caught wind that she was in the vicinity, if he even thought she might be within arm’s reach, they would certainly snatch her.
There was no doubt about it.
Matty walked around the outside of the house, slipping into the backyard and glancing up at Genna's room. The lights were off, the balcony door wide open to let air filter through. He could climb up there, he thought, and slip into her room, spend the night with her, hold her in his arms, find the comfort he so desperately sought, but doing so meant breathing their same air. It meant being in that house, with those people.
He knew what she meant about not being able to come back here after everything. Just the air around the house felt poisoned.
He was surprised they weren't celebrating.
Sighing, he strolled back away, heading toward his car. There was nothing here for him tonight, nothing he could do to change what happened. He had nearly made it back to the street when the porch light flicked on and the front door of the house opened. Matty's footsteps stalled as he turned back around, watching as someone strolled outside. It wasn't a Galante, but it was close enough—the boy from earlier that had been with Dante.
He paused there on the porch, the door wide open behind him, as he waited for something… or someone. Matty took a few steps back into the shadows, watching, his blood running cold when Dante stepped outside behind the boy.
Dante had showered and changed clothes, wiped clean of all evidence of anything ever happening. The men talked quietly as they stepped off the porch, strolling toward a car parked along the curb.
The other boy climbed into it after a moment and drove away while Dante just stood there, his eyes studiously scanning the neighborhood. It didn't take long for him to catch sight of the Lotus, his gaze locking on it as he tensed, his shoulders squaring. After a second he swung around, on guard, but Matty was faster than him.
His mind blanked, rational thought fading away as he sprung at Dante. This boy—this monster—had attacked them, killing his brother in cold blood before running off like a coward, leaving Matty there to pick up the pieces. Before Dante could react, Matty hit him, knocking him to the ground, before savagely railing on him. Dante tried to fight him off, to thwart the attack, but Matty was too far gone to be deterred.
Gasping, Dante lay on his back on the ground, blood spewing from his mouth, as Matty stood over him. He pulled the gun from his pocket, cocking it and aiming it right at Dante's head. His finger loosely touched the trigger, trembling from pent-up rage, as he stared into the eyes of the one who had stolen his brother from him just hours ago.
"Why?" The question came out forceful and full of so much venom that Matty hardly recognized his own voice. "I want to know why."
'Why is never a good question to ask,' Enzo had warned him just the day before. 'You'll never get the answer you want to hear.'
"You gave me no choice," Dante growled. "Because of you, my sister's as good as dead."
Before Matty could process that, the front door of the house opened again. Hearing it, Dante sat up as Matty backed away, lowering the gun. The moment he caught sight of Genna's alarmed face in the doorway, his senses came back to him.
He'd watched his brother die tonight.
&
nbsp; He couldn't put Genna through the same.
Last week of community service finally arrived.
Genna punctually showed up to the soup kitchen for dinner duty, going through the motions as she cooked and served, helping clean up as much as she could in between, in order to be out the door at exactly seven o'clock. There was no staying late anymore, despite how much she wished she could stick around and lose herself in the work.
But every day, Dante would be parked out front, waiting for her, even though they all knew he had a target on his back. He risked exposure to make sure she was delivered home safe and sound, a fact that she both appreciated and loathed. Their drives were even more strained, so much so that she didn't think they would ever get what they once had back. Too much had happened. It had gone too far for everything to be forgotten.
She felt it weighing on her, heavy in the air those thirty minutes they were confined in his car together. She wanted to say something, to come up with some way to lessen the tension just a bit to make it easier to breathe around him, but she wasn't sure what to say.
One thing she was certain of, though: she yearned for her best friend again.
Friday afternoon arrived, and Genna slouched in the passenger seat, staring out the window as Dante drove north toward East Harlem. Sunlight blasted them through the tinted windows of his car, the afternoon warm and breezy. She'd say it was a beautiful day, normally, but it still felt drab.
Dante swung his car in along the curb just down from the community center and put it in park as he let out a deep sigh. "Last day, huh?"
She was surprised he'd even attempt conversation. He hadn't bothered all week long. "Yeah."
"Gotta tell you, sis, I didn't think you'd do it," he said, "but you saw it through to the very end."
"Yeah," she said. "I did."
"I'm proud of you."
Those words startled her. Blinking rapidly, she turned to Dante, seeing the soft smile tugging his lips. "What?"
"I'm proud of you," he said again, no sarcasm in his voice. "Dad would never say it, but well… I'm proud as hell. Proud that you didn't give up, that you stuck with it, no matter what."
She was taken aback. "Thanks."
"I have a hard time accepting that you've grown up," he continued. "I know I'm not much older than you, but I've always felt responsible for you. And I know you resent me sometimes for it, but—"
"I don't resent you," she said, cutting him off.
He closed his eyes briefly before continuing just where he had left off. "But I just tried to look out for you, the only way I knew how."
"I know."
Raising his eyebrows, he glanced at her curiously. "Have you told him yet?"
Her cheeks heated at the question. "I haven't had the chance."
"Are you happy, at least?"
The honesty of his question surprised her. "I, uh… yeah. Well, I mean, I was… as happy as I could possibly ever be under the circumstances, anyway. It sucks, being who we are, but…"
"But he's different," Dante said quietly. "That's what you told me that day. You said he was different."
"He is."
Dante ran his hands down his face. "I can't help you anymore, Genna. I can't watch out for you… not like I always have before. You're on your own with this, and I don't think it can end well."
"I know."
A smile slowly returned to Dante's lips. "But you proved me wrong last time I doubted you. Maybe you'll do it again."
Genna returned his smile. "I will."
Reaching over, Genna hugged her brother, feeling his arms wrap around her tightly. He turned away as he let go, his attention focusing out of the windshield. "Seven o'clock?"
"Seven o'clock," she confirmed.
She got out of the car and headed inside of the community center, pausing there and watching as Dante merged into traffic and sped away. Sighing, she glanced around. Last day.
Dinner was a breeze, with more than enough food to go around. Come seven o'clock Genna was pulling her apron off and tossing it into the hamper for the last time when the coordinator approached, waving around a piece of paper as he grinned. "You know what this is?"
"What?"
"Your discharge papers."
"Huh." Genna took it, reading the glowing remarks the coordinator had written about her. "Thanks."
She headed for the door, still skimming through the paper as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. Looking up, she expected to see Dante's car waiting for her, front and center as usual, but an old Toyota was parked in that spot instead. She glanced around, scanning the neighborhood, thinking maybe he couldn't get a close spot, but his car was nowhere to be found.
She reached into her pocket for her phone, cursing when she didn't find it. She must have left it in Dante's car.
Shrugging it off, forcing back the feeling of dread her brother's absence conjured up, she strolled down the block toward the train. He must've lost track of time, she figured. There was no telling what he was out there doing.
She glanced both ways, making sure nothing was coming, before jogging across the street. She stepped up onto the sidewalk, folding the paper and slipping it into her pocket, when someone called out to her. "Galante."
Genna's blood ran cold. The voice was unfamiliar and lacked all warmth. Glancing behind her, she immediately saw two vaguely familiar faces—guys who used to hang around Enzo. Tweedledum and Tweedledee, Dante had called them. They stood close, a mere few feet between her and them. Alarmed, she took a step away. "What do you want?"
The grin that crossed one of their faces spoke louder than any words. You, it said. We want you.
She didn't hesitate, turning around and sprinting, running as fast as her legs could carry her down the block. They immediately gave chase, keeping up with her pace. Frenzied, she ran down into the train station, shoving people out of the way, ignoring their shouts as she tried to move through the crowd. She continually looked behind her as she ran, trying to catch glimpses of them, but she lost them somewhere along the way.
Heart erratically pounding, she dodged onto the first train that came along, instantly taking a seat as she nervously fidgeted, turning to the side to watch outside. Someone took the seat beside her, brushing against her, and she jumped, yelping. Turning toward them, she started to apologize for her startled reaction but froze when she caught his eye.
Tweedledum. Or Tweedledee.
She didn't know which one it was, but that didn't matter. One of them had caught up to her. He sat back in the seat as Genna shifted away from him as far as she could, her vision hazy as tears of panic sprung to her eyes. "I'll scream."
"No, you won't. Besides, I'm not here to hurt you."
"Then why are you here?"
"What?" He raised his eyebrows, feigning innocence. "A guy can't take the train?"
"I know you want something," she pressed, hands trembling. "So tell me what you want."
"To pass along a message."
"What message?"
He didn't respond, relaxing back in the seat as he glanced around nonchalantly. The train stopped after a minute, the doors opening and passengers filtering out. Calmly, the man stood. "Exodus 21:24."
"Excuse me?"
"Exodus 21:24," he said again, reaching into his pocket and pulling out something, tossing it onto Genna's lap. She snatched ahold of it before it hit the floor, seeing it was a wallet. "Tell your father Bobby Barsanti sends his regards."
Before she could process it, the man was gone, the doors closing and train moving on. Carefully, Genna opened the leather wallet, hoping against logic it wasn't what she thought it was, but there, right inside the plastic on the inside, was her brother's smiling face on his driver's license.
She took another train before hailing a cab, sprinting home when it dropped her off a block from her house. Out of breath, she shoved her way through the front door.
"Dad! Where are you, Dad?"
"What's with the shouting?" he called from his office, stepping
into the doorway, his brow furrowing as he looked at her. "Where's your brother?"
Immediately, she ran toward him, shoving Dante's wallet at him as her mouth frantically moved, words spewing out in an attempt to explain what had happened. She made little sense to even herself, and she could tell he had no idea what she was saying from his confused look.
"Slow down, Genevieve, and tell me what happened."
"Dante didn't show up tonight," she said, trying to calm down. "I was taking the train home and I saw one of them… one of them… and they gave me this wallet and told me to give you a message."
Primo's expression hardened as he did exactly what Genna had done: opened the wallet to look at the driver's license. "What message?"
"Uh, Exodus… 21:24."
Genna's eyes darted to where the plaque bearing that scripture hung on the wall. She was mentally cursing herself for not paying attention in Sunday school as a kid, for never cracking open that crisp new bible her mother had bought her before she died. Although she had been baptized Catholic, and her father liked to claim they were a righteous family, religion had never been a big part of her life. The commandments? She could probably name them, thanks to the Charlton Hesston flick her father watched every godforsaken Easter, but beyond that?
Nothing.
Primo stood still for a moment, staring at Dante's driver's license. "Did he say anything else?"
"No." She shook her head, hesitating. "Just that Bobby Barsanti sends his regards."
Primo nodded, saying not a word as he turned around and went straight back into his office. Genna followed, lingering in the doorway, watching incredulously as he took a seat on the couch.
"So?" she asked, fidgeting anxiously as she waited for some kind of reaction from him. "What does it mean?"
Primo fiddled with the wallet, opening it and closing it again and again, his expression strained. "Exodus 21:24."
"Yes," she said. "What is it?"
Sighing, he closed the wallet for the final time before setting it aside, his gaze meeting hers. "An eye for an eye… a tooth for a tooth… a hand for a hand… a foot for a foot…"