“Hello, little sister,” he says, grinning, and reaches out a hand.
Chapter 24
Fynn
“She’s not out by the pool.” Elise looks around, the worry clear in her eyes. I could count the number of times I’ve seen her look stressed on one hand and it turns my anxiety levels up beyond what’s healthy.
“Not in the gym or the kitchens,” Karah says, shaking her head.
“We’ll find her.” Casso frowns at me from behind his desk. He’s always behind that fucking desk these days, not out on the streets, fighting and killing for the Famiglia. He lets other people do the dirty work for him.
I pause, hand on the bookshelf, breathing hard. I shouldn’t think about Casso that way, and it isn’t fair either. He’s the Don and his life is too important to risk out on the streets. I’m only losing my mind right now because Mirella’s missing and nobody knows where she went.
Gavino and Nico appear in the doorway. Both look grim, which means they haven’t found her. I slam my fist against the shelf and the books rattle. A picture falls over and the glass shatters on the floor. I slam my cane down on top of it—a photograph of my mother and my father, smiling, the old bastard with his arm around her shoulders.
“We didn’t find her,” Gavino says as he approaches Casso, watching me warily, “but security did find this.” He holds a tablet out for the Don, who taps the screen and squints.
Casso lets out a long sigh and gestures for me to join them.
I limp over and look at the screen. I know what I’m about to see. I keep thinking about that conversation we had in bed, how I forbade her from going to see her mother. Why was I so damn stupid? Why didn’t I offer to take her myself? I could’ve saved myself so much heartache.
He holds it out and taps the play button. At first, it’s only a static shot of the desert, one of a dozen security cameras we have placed all around the property. On the right side of the screen is the wall that surrounds the villa’s borders. Armed guards patrol that wall, though they can’t be everywhere at all times.
Mirella comes into view around five seconds in. She’s walking fast, hurries to the wall, checks her phone, then uses some rocks to leap up and climb. She’s surprisingly agile and I’m impressed by how easily she scales it. When she drops down to the other side, the video ends.
Silence sits heavy in the room. Elise and Karah stand together near the bookshelf, watching me with concern, Nico by his wife’s side. Gavino’s frowning at me, and Casso’s rubbing his temples.
“She ran away,” I say quietly as my fingers dig into the tablet. “She fucking ran away to her mother’s house.”
“You don’t know that,” Gavino says.
I grab the tablet with my other hand, letting the cane fall away, and bend the glass and metal device until it creaks, and cracks, and shatters under my hands. I grunt with the effort and throw it when I’m done, roaring as it shatters on the floor. Karah lets out a surprised yelp.
I stand there, seething.
She ran away.
“You watched her jump the wall,” I say, glaring at Gavino. “She ran away. Things got hard and instead of facing them, she chose to turn her back and flee.”
“Can you blame her?” Gavino asks, glancing sideways toward Casso. “She was just a physical therapist. She didn’t sign up to put her own life in danger for the Famiglia. Did you really think—”
I see red and lunge forward, grabbing for my little brother. He staggers back in surprise, and I expect a sharp stab of pain to rip through my knee and hip, but instead it never comes. I’m unsteady, a little weak, but I take a step, and another step, and the pain isn’t that bad.
Most of my rage fades away. Gavino stares at me, wide-eyed, as I take another tentative step. I’m still not perfect, and I can already feel the ache in my body, but that was the most stable I’ve felt in a very long time.
I lean one hand against Casso’s desk. Gavino lowers his hands, out of my reach, and hurries to the drink tray. He pours himself a whiskey as I gather myself.
“We’ll find her and make sure she’s safe,” Casso’s says, putting a hand on my shoulder. He gently places my cane back in my palm.
I grip it and hold it tight, hating him, hating the cane, hating myself. Hating Mirella most of all for abandoning me.
“She ran,” I say quietly, turning to him.
“She might have a good reason. If she does, you’ll want to hear it. And if she doesn’t, then at least you’ll know. We’ll find her.”
I clench my jaw and nod once.