“Yeah.”
“Then give it to me.”
I ended the call and took a moment to straighten my thoughts.
“What’s going on?” Savio asked.
“Serafina tried to reach me. She wants me to call her back.”
Savio sank down slowly. “Do you think she wants to tell us he’s…he’s dead?”
I stared down at my cell. “I don’t know. Maybe they’ll make us listen when they end it.” I curled one of my hands into a fist, trying to focus on the muscles in my fingers, on their flexing, instead of the throbbing in my chest, the tightness of my throat. My gaze lingered on my scars, and I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose.
Savio closed his eyes, pressing his mouth together. “I’ll hunt them all down, every fucker.”
After another deep breath, I dialed Serafina’s number, trying to find my calm but my insides seemed to twist and turn.
The moment she picked up, I asked, “Is he dead?”
Savio pressed his palms against his temples, his eyes reflecting the same fear I thought myself incapable of.
“Not yet,” she said tightly.
Savio and I landed with the helicopter where we were supposed to meet Serafina. I gave the pilot the sign to keep everything prepared for immediate take-off in case this was a trap.
“I don’t trust her,” Savio said, scanning our surroundings, gun in hand.
“Neither do I.”
Savio nodded. “It’s a trap I’m willing to step into if there’s a tiny chance we get Remo back.”
A car pulled up, a Mercedes limousine with tinted windows. I climbed out of the helicopter and so did Savio, pointing our guns at the car.
The driver’s door opened and Serafina got out, a gun in her hand. I motioned for Savio to stay near the aircraft while I headed for the car. Her barrel was directed at me, but I was the better shot.
She watched me then glanced over to Savio before she sighed, lowered her gun and walked around to the passenger side. I stayed a few steps back, still wary of her intentions. Savio came up behind me, as usual bad at following orders.
“Will you help me? Or do you want Remo to die?” Serafina hissed, glaring at us.
I took a step closer and peered inside the car—spotting my brother, covered in blood. I sheathed my gun. He was unconscious, cut and bruised and beaten, but breathing. I wedged my hands under his arms and Savio gripped his legs. We needed to get him to a hospital quickly.
A high-pitched wail rang out. Tension shot through my body at the unexpected sound and my head shot up, toward the source of the noise. A infant, a girl judging from her pink clothes and longer, slightly curled hair. Beside her a second baby woke up in his seat, a little boy with dark eyes, almost black. Remo’s eyes. My gaze darted between the boy and the girl, twins— both Remo’s children, no doubt.
Savio inhaled sharply beside me. “Holy fuck. They are Remo’s.”
Remo was a father. I was an uncle. Two new Falcones. Kiara would be ecstatic to have them in the mansion.
I looked toward Serafina who seemed frozen. Something had shifted in her posture. She was tense, protective, ready to pounce if we dared to do something to her children.
She needn’t worry. Never again.
Remo began to tremble in my hold. “Quick,” I said and Savio sprang into motion, helping me carry our brother over to the helicopter.
We put him down on the floor of the chopper and I crouched beside him, touching his throat.
“I’ll ask Serafina if she needs help with the babies,” Savio said, stunned.
“Do that.”
“They’re coming home with us, right?”
I glanced up at Savio. “It’s where they belong.”
Savio turned and headed toward Serafina while I checked Remo’s chest for broken ribs, finding two, then felt his arms. Cuts littered his skin, some of them opening old wounds, others creating fresh ones.
I sighed. This was the first time Remo was this helpless. I quickly attached him to a drip to make up for the blood loss he’d suffered.
I’d checked every inch of his body for injuries when Savio and Serafina appeared in front of the helicopter, each of them carrying a baby.
Savio held up the little boy to me and I took him. His dark eyes peered at me, bringing back memories of raising Adamo. Serafina and Savio got in with the little girl then settled on the opposite bench with the babies. I hadn’t been sure how I’d feel for a baby. I’d always cared for my brothers, and I cared about Kiara, but I didn’t know if I’d feel the same way for a baby. Yet, seeing those babies who looked like Remo, like Adamo when he was a baby, I felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness.
Remo never considered having kids, but he’d protect them with all he had, from this day on until his death. I knelt down beside him again, feeling his pulse, needing the reassurance that his heart was still beating.