By Frenzy I Ruin (Sins of the Fathers Book 5)
By Frenzy I Ruin: Chapter 5

One year later

I wasn’t sure who had first compared me to a black hole who swallowed even the brightest light. Probably Massimo who always knew shit like that and used it to piss me off.

Greta was inherently good. She helped animals, never used violence. Fuck, she didn’t even eat meat, eggs, milk or fucking honey. Honey. Because the poor bees were exploited or something ridiculous like that.

Yet, she’d set a man on fire last night. We’d always been close, but over the last year since Amo had wed that bitch Cressida and war had come down on us, she’d spent even more time with me. She’d often seemed distant but she’d been by my side and I’d taken that as a good sign.

Fuck me. Being around me had obviously finally taken effect. I would have never thought Greta was capable of hurting anyone.

I sat on a chair next to our pool in the twilight of the early morning hours, taking a smoke and trying to understand how my peaceful twin could have burned someone alive. That was something I would do, something I had done. I ran a hand through my hair. I still smelled of smoke and burning flesh. It was one of the smells that was the hardest to get out. It wasn’t my favorite either. I preferred the freshness of blood to the charcoal scent. If I wanted a barbecue, I could throw a few steaks on the grill.

The sound of a window opening drew my attention to the Scuderi mansion. Aurora peeked out of her window and waved at me, her blond hair like a halo in the dark.

Aurora meant light, and like my sister, Aurora was good too. She always asked others how they felt, truly cared about their emotions, and gave me concerned looks when she thought I was hurting, even if that was never the case.

Aurora had sought my closeness. I’d always kept her at a distance, mostly because she’d seemed too young, too innocent for what I had in mind. The last year I’d been busy with war, with Greta, with trying to control my deep need to maim and kill Amo Vitiello so ignoring her crush on me had been easy. But recently I’d caught myself thinking about Aurora, even fucking dreaming about her. About her smile. About how she threw herself down the half pipe. About how she made even dungarees seem like a valid fashion option.

But I was a fucking black hole, drawing in any source of light with my irresistible pull, only to extinguish it and tinge it in blackness.

I could only imagine what Massimo would say about my analysis, about my abundance of symbolism. But dammit, I was right.

I’d ruined Greta even if she’d had years to grow immune against it. Eventually I’d pulled her down into my black hole.

It would be the same with Aurora. I already had Greta on my conscience, if you could call my shaky moral compass by that name, I didn’t want to add Aurora to that list.

There were so many women out there I didn’t give a flying fuck about, enough to spend several lifetimes fucking. I definitely wouldn’t entertain thoughts of one of the very few I minded hurting.

I stifled a groan when the patio door opened and Aurora stepped out in a white bathrobe. Speaking of symbolism…

She headed straight toward me, probably thinking I needed company and consolation. The only thing that would console me for a little while right now was a good torture session, preferably Amo, and then an angry revenge fuck with a woman from the Famiglia.

“Hey, I saw you sitting there from my window,” Aurora said unnecessarily.

I nodded and took another deep pull.

She wrapped her arms around herself and tilted her head as if she was trying to see through my protective layer. “Mom and Dad refused to tell me what happened, but I gathered it was something about Greta. How is she?”

I grimaced and tossed my cigarette to the ground then stomped it with my boot. “She set a guy on fire. She’s in her room now, trying to come to terms with it.”

Aurora’s eyes grew huge and she sank down on the lounge chair beside me. She stared at me as if she was hoping I’d take the words back. “She would never do that. I just can’t believe it.”

I chuckled sardonically. “That’s what happens if you hang around me too often. My darkness rubs off. It’s more contagious than syphilis.”

She shook her head. “That’s not how it works. And you’re not dark.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Rory, ignorance can be a blessing but it can also be dangerous.”

She bit her lip, a deep frown lining her forehead. “It’s not about you. It’s about what she went through this last year, with losing Amo and all. Don’t blame yourself.”

My lips curled with contempt at hearing that loathed name. He was definitely responsible for the shit show, too, and he’d eventually pay for it, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t to blame.

“I just came outside to tell you I’m here if you need someone to talk. Alessio and Massimo might not always be the best choice for every topic. I can keep a secret, you know that.” Her voice was gentle and beckoning, and she put her palm on my hand hesitantly. I could feel it shake slightly. I frowned down at it, at the intimacy, at the way I actually didn’t mind it. For a moment I let it sit there, warm and soft against my night-cooled hand.

Then I pulled it away, building a barrier between us. “I’m fine. This is nothing a good killing session can’t cure.”

“Everyone has moments of weakness.”

I scoffed. “Aurora, stop trying to normalize me. I’m not like most people. I won’t ever be a victim in any scenario. I’m someone who turns other people into victims. If you want to save someone, do yourself a favor and don’t pretend I’m misunderstood and not fucking bad.”

Aurora nodded and got up, shoving her hands into the pockets of her bathrobe. “My offer stands,” she said softly before she turned and walked back to the Scuderi mansion.

She didn’t often show that side around me, but she could be stubborn. I liked that side of her.

Aurora

Almost eighteen, about another year later

It was the first time I was back in New York in two years. The last time we’d all attended my cousin Amo Vitiello’s wedding to a woman who had later been killed by Nevio for hurting his twin, Greta. It hadn’t been a pleasant wedding. I still had nightmares about how the Famiglia had lured us all into a trap and attacked us.

I often woke from the sound of gunshots. It had been my first personal encounter with violence, the first time I’d really feared for my life. It had also been the day when my infatuation with Nevio had turned into something even more, something that was hard to put into words.

Nevio had saved us that day, in his very own way. Ruthless and brutal, how most people perceived him, but apart from the lust for violence I had seen something else in his eyes that day: love and concern. Not for me, for his twin Greta, but seeing those things had made me yearn to see the same emotions in his eyes for me one day. Foolish, I know.

Now Greta and Amo were married. There was peace between the Camorra and Famiglia again. War hadn’t lasted long but its effects still lingered in the deep distrust and animosity both sides felt for each other.

Greta was a beautiful bride and her happiness over marrying Amo was obvious. But what really brought tears to my eyes was the look in Amo’s eyes when he looked at her. Pure unrestrained adoration gleamed in them. He was so very obviously in love with her. Nobody could doubt his feelings after a look at him. I wondered if anyone would ever look at me like this.

My gaze slid to Nevio in the first row beside his parents and younger brother. He looked as if this was one of the worst days of his life. Letting go of his twin was hard. Nevio seemed so full of darkness and need for destruction that many didn’t think he cared about anyone but he had trouble letting go of the people he cared about. Greta was at the very top of this list.

I had attended several weddings in my life so far. As the daughter of the head Enforcer, it was part of my social duties. But this was the second tensest wedding of my life. The first had ended in war, and this one would end war for good. But suspicion and wariness saturated the air. I hadn’t seen my aunt and cousins in so long, and still hadn’t had a chance to talk to them. Their faces reflected forced joy, but beneath it I could see the same tension I felt. A wedding mere months after the peace treaty couldn’t be as free and joyous as a celebration like that warranted.

Especially Isabella was someone I wanted to talk to. She and I had always gotten along well, and I really hoped that was still the case. Luckily, she sat at my table. The parents of the groom and bride had to share a table, which led to quite a few very intense staring matches between Luca and Remo, and I was glad I wasn’t actually sitting at the table. It didn’t help the tension between those two that Nevio looked ready for trouble. He hated that Greta married Amo, but so far he’d behaved.

At our table there were my aunts Gianna and Liliana with their families, and following etiquette Nino and his family should have sat there too, but Matteo had threatened to stab both Massimo and Alessio with a “fucking” butter knife as rumor had it and so other arrangements had been made. I had to admit I was relieved on Isabella’s behalf. I could only imagine what it would do to her to spend an entire evening at a table with the very people who’d kidnapped her and threatened her life.

Nino and his family now shared a table with Adamo and Savio and their families. I was pretty sure Kiara had had a serious conversation with both Massimo and Alessio before the wedding because so far they had both done their best to avoid any contact, even with their eyes, with Isabella and Gianna, though the latter looked ready to start a new war.

I leaned over to Isabella who sat beside me. Her maroon curls framed her face wildly and I noticed she made sure to use the curtain of her hair to shield herself from the table to our right, where Alessio and Massimo were sitting. We hadn’t gotten the chance to talk yet, except for a few brief pleasantries because of the wedding schedule.

When Nevio had kidnapped Gianna and Isa to save us, I’d been relieved, had admired his bold move. I had avoided thinking what this had done to Isa. For me Alessio, Massimo and Nevio didn’t pose a danger, and I wasn’t scared of them, but Isa didn’t know them very well, and if I was being honest, knowing their reputation, I wasn’t sure if they wouldn’t have hurt her to get their message across.

Mom began chit-chatting with Liliana and Gianna about mundane things like yoga in an attempt to avoid any touchy subjects, and the list was very long…

Still the atmosphere was difficult. Matteo wasn’t really interested in conversation with Dad, and busy glaring alternately at Massimo and Alessio, or Nevio, who apparently hadn’t gotten Kiara’s memo to keep his head down. Luckily, Maximus and Dad seemed to get along decently, and chatted about Maximus’s various tattoos all over his body. Especially Davide’s interest in the many tattoos fired the conversation up. Davide, of course, had to show off his recently acquired Camorra tattoo. Dad had insisted that he was inducted on his fourteenth birthday despite Mom’s protests, and Davide had run around like the king of the world ever since.

“Are you going to college?” I asked Isabella when the dinner conversations finally started. She was turning nineteen soon so she must have finished high school last year.

She turned to me. “No, I still need to finish high school. I took a break after certain events.”

I flushed. So much about not putting your foot in your mouth. Mom sent me a concerned look and Gianna looked less than pleased about our conversation. Nobody had told me college was on the list of banned topics.

“Uhh… sorry. I—”

“But I’m going to attend Columbia University this fall. I’ll sign up for Creative Writing. I think it’ll help my writing career,” she said firmly, completely ignoring my apology and our mothers’ worried looks. She pushed her glasses back up her nose, and gave a small shrug.

“Wow. Creative writing? That’s really cool. Have you already been accepted to Columbia?”

She let out a small laugh. “No, the application window isn’t even open yet. But let’s be honest, I’ll be accepted.” She glanced at Matteo. “I’m a Vitiello.” It was difficult to read her emotions.

“True,” I said. “How long have you been writing? You never mentioned it before.”

“Well, our contact has been sparse in recent years.” She pursed her lips and widened her eyes.

I laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”

“But I have been writing short stories pretty much all of my life. I never considered taking my writing seriously, but after the war broke out, I started writing novellas and novels, and it’s what I want to do.”

“They are really good,” Sara piped up. I looked at her in surprise. She had quietly chatted with her two younger sisters while her brother Flavio had joined the conversation of the men.

Isabella scrunched up her face comically. “You called them disturbingly dark.”

Sara’s cheeks turned red. She looked pale and thin. I remembered how she’d been before the war, before something happened and she married Maximus instead of a man she’d originally been promised to. If I hadn’t known those two were husband and wife, I wouldn’t have guessed it. Sara mostly angled her body away from Maximus and he was obviously careful to keep his distance too. They seemed like strangers. No, not strangers, because they obviously both carried baggage that concerned the other. I had asked Dad about it but he’d refused to talk to me about it. I couldn’t imagine that Maximus was violent toward Sara, even if he looked absolutely capable to do so with his muscles and tattoos, and considering his job, he definitely was capable of excessive violence too. Romero, Sara’s Dad, would have never tolerated it.

I bet Nevio knew about this. He’d avoided me like the plague, ever since I’d offered him my help if he ever needed someone to talk. I hadn’t pushed him after that because I didn’t want to appear clingy and honestly, I was just over it. Trying to understand Nevio was a 24/7 job I didn’t want to waste my time on right now.

“They are dark and poignant. People will love them.”

“But you didn’t,” Isabella said, without sounding offended or accusing.

“I prefer more uplifting literature, but that’s a personal taste and doesn’t say anything about the quality of your work.”

“You have to let me read one of your books,” I said. “I can handle dark.”

Davide snorted. “Since when?”

“Stop eavesdropping.” I rolled my eyes at him, then turned back to Isabella. “Ignore him. He’s being intolerable since he became a Camorrista.”

Her smile was a bit stiffer than before. “I’m sure you can handle the dark. You spend a lot of time with the Unholy Trinity, after all.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I felt an apology on the tip of my tongue, but I doubted she wanted one from me.

After dancing with Dad and Davide, who annoyingly enough was already taller than me, I looked around for a sign of Nevio. I’d really love to dance with him, but I didn’t see him anywhere. Alessio took Davide’s place as my dance partner, looking like he’d rather be somewhere else.

“You don’t have to dance with me if you don’t want to,” I said as he put a hand on my lower back.

“Some things are inevitable,” he said.

I raised my eyebrows. “Thanks.”

He gave me a tight smile. “I’m sure you’d rather dance with someone else, even if that choice is highly problematic.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said defensively.

“You know, Rory, I don’t like to get involved, but I have one piece of advice for you that you should consider. Get Nevio out of your fucking head. The faster, the better. On his good days Nevio is a psychotic asshole, on his bad days he’d make your worst nightmares look like a piece of cake.”

I tried to end the dance, but Alessio held me in an iron grip. “I wonder what he’d say to one of his best friends talking like that about him.”

“He’d agree with me. Nevio knows what he is, and he has no intention of becoming a better version of himself, trust me.”

“Thanks for your advice, but I’m not a little kid.”

“Where’s Isabella?” Alessio asked suddenly.

“Why?”

“None of your business.”

“Then I don’t know.”

Alessio glared down at me, but then Valerio took over, and our conversation ended abruptly. Soon after, I didn’t see Alessio anymore. I hoped he knew what he was doing. I doubted Isabella wanted to talk to him. I managed to slip away from the festivities and began roaming the corridors of the hotel. The entire place had been rented for the occasion, so the only people I met were other wedding guests or employees of the hotel. I didn’t see Alessio or Isabella anywhere, but eventually, I spotted Nevio on the floor, smoking. He looked as if he was ready to tear down the place. Maybe Alessio was right. Maybe it was best for me to stay away from Nevio. But this wasn’t about my crush. This was about a friend helping another, and Nevio looked as if he definitely needed help today.