Everything was different. No one was safe anymore. There was too much pain. Too much suffering. People fought over the stupidest things and not what mattered. Everyone seemed eager to believe the lies instead of seeing the truth for what it was. The world was no longer the place I grew up in. It was dangerous, vile, and corrupt. Men who should be behind bars roamed free doing what they wanted. Boys and girls were taken from playgrounds, schools, and their homes to serve the sadistic needs of others, never to be heard from again, and no one was doing anything to stop it. Men like my birth father and Jekyll were too powerful to stop.
“He’s dead, Layla,” Giovanni whispered, reaching for my hand. “I killed him. Diablo won’t ever touch you again.”
“People like him don’t die. There is always another to take his place.”
“True, and they too will eventually meet the same fate.”
“He told me that Jekyll and I were married. I didn’t want to believe him, but I barely remember that day.”
“He too is dead. Your brother killed him.”
I thought I had dreamt that.
One minute he was standing behind me. The next, I remembered seeing him on the ground.
I thought I hallucinated the whole thing.
Was my nightmare really dead?
“Dylan was there. Protecting you like he promised. He showed up at the hospital to make sure you were safe. Your brother is…different.”
I grinned at that. Dylan was definitely different. A throwback to when men were actually men. He had his core values and let nothing sway him. He believed in honor, integrity, and revenge.
My brother was the best man I ever knew.
“He threatened to kill me if I let anything happen to you. Actually, gave me a bullet with my name engraved on it.”
“You’re one of the lucky ones. He typically doesn’t give second chances. Did he say anything else?”
“No. He said what he needed and then disappeared.”
Nodding, I knew that was Dylan’s way.
He was never a big talker.
I knew he’d be back.
He always came back.
If I really needed him, all I had to do was look to the trees, and he would be there.
42
Giovanni
“Any word on Reggie and Catarina’s situation?” I asked, leaning back in my chair in my office.
It had been almost two months since Layla was rescued. My brothers spent a few weeks in the hospital and were now home. Antonio was already back at work, and Lorenzo was milking his scar as if he were the one who single-handedly fought and protected the family. He was driving everyone crazy, but that was Lorenzo, and we still loved him.
Salvatore finally heard from Maxim about Illyria. Though he didn’t say much and seemed frustrated at the time, when Illyria waltzed back into the house three weeks later as if nothing happened, we all figured Maxim had all he was going to take of her and just let her go. None of us could blame the man. Our sister was a handful, and I did try to warn him. Since her return, Illyria seemed fine. No nightmares, nothing. In fact, the following Friday, she was back in the clubs and on page six, partying and having a good time.
As for Maxim, well, he and I came to an undefined truce. He stayed away, and I never contacted him. Though I knew our paths would one day cross again.
Roxy stayed until Layla was healed and then left, saying she was needed back home. She called Layla regularly and was making plans to visit in the spring.
Bianchi disappeared. No one had seen or heard from him since the hit in Italy. All shipments to my warehouse had stopped, and no monetary transfers took place. Antonio was monitoring the web and papers for anything about his whereabouts, but the man had become a ghost.
The funerals for my mother and Don Victor were not easy to get through. Both families came together to mourn. My siblings and I agreed to our mother's wish, and she was buried in Italy, near her family’s home. She was laid to rest on a Sunday, next to her father and mother. It was a beautiful sunny day.