Hexed (Never After #6)

48. Enzo

FORTY-EIGHT

ENZO

I haven’t been to Peppino’s grave since his funeral three years ago, but right now, it feels fitting that this is where I head first after walking out and leaving Venesa in my kitchen.

I’m angry.

Frustrated.

Blindsided.

Like there’s nothing I know anymore, twists and turns continually being thrown in my face and showing me that things I knew as fact—as truth , things I felt soul deep to the marrow of my bones and beyond—are all bullshit.

I searched for my brother’s murderer for years. Always assumed it was one of the other families. I killed people for information.

And this whole time it was her.

The fact Peppino and I were never close, never saw eye to eye, doesn’t diminish the fact he was still my brother, and the woman I opened my life to, my heart to, my home to, is the person I’ve been searching for during these three years. How can I believe anything she says now?

Steps sound behind me, the freshly cut grass of the cemetery crunching underneath their feet.

I should turn around and see who it is, but I don’t because I already know without looking that it’s Gio. I called him in a panic, my words not flowing and my chest feeling like it was physically ripping apart into a thousand broken pieces. He’s the only one I can trust.

He says nothing at first, just comes to stand at my side, his hands in his pockets and a look of consternation on his face as he stares down at Peppino’s tombstone.

“You remember when we were kids and used to fuck around on the corner outside Max’s shop?” he asks.

I don’t reply beyond a quick jerk of the head because I don’t think I physically can push words out right now. My chest aches so badly, it’s taking everything in me to not reach up and try to rub away the pain.

“We were so stupid back then, yeah?” He chuckles. “Always making dumb mistakes. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but one time, I was fucking around out there, on a brand-new bike I saved up all summer to get. You remember the one, with the?—”

“Cherry-red frame and black accents. Yeah, I remember.”

Gio loved that bike, had been talking about it for months and doing odds and ends like mowing lawns and getting groceries for the ol’ biddies around town.

“That’s right. And one day, I was picking up groceries for that Mrs. Greenfield lady who lived three apartments down from you, and your brother stopped me and told me if I wanted to keep the groceries, I had to hand over the bike.”

“No shit?”

“No shit,” he confirms.

“What’d you do?”

He shrugs. “What was I supposed to do? I was a kid being paid to deliver the goods, and your brother was older. The son of Carlos Marino. I gave him the bike.”

I shake my head. “Peppino was always a fucking prick.”

Silence for a few minutes, and then Gio speaks again. “He was a fucking prick, and he never deserved your loyalty. He never loved you the way you loved him. The way you’ve honored him.” Another pause, and then: “There’s only been one person I’ve ever seen love you the way you deserve.”

My mouth goes dry, but somehow I manage to unstick my tongue from the roof of it to speak. “She lied to me, Gio. She killed him.”

“Yeah, I know.” He rocks back slightly on his heels. “But she also saved you.”

My stomach feels like an overturned ship in a storm. “I’m done feeling like I owe people for that.”

He moves then and steps in front of me, gripping my shoulder with his hand and squeezing. “You know I’ve got your back in anything. You tell me we’re gonna put a bullet in her head for what she did? I’m behind you a hundred percent, but I gotta tell you…I think it’s a mistake. And I think you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

The thought of Venesa with a bullet anywhere near her makes bile collect at the back of my throat and my mouth go sour. I have to keep myself from lashing out at Gio for even suggesting it.

And maybe that makes me a pussy.

But I can’t kill her, even if I wish I could. It sure as hell would be easier.

“Man.” Gio whistles, looking at Peppino’s grave. “A lot of blood’s been spilled because of him and your father, you know?”

I nod. “Part of the life.”

He rocks back on his heels. “It is…and it is for her too.”

My jaw clenches. “So, what, I’m supposed to just forget about it?”

Gio shrugs. “That’s up to you, E. But we both know if the shoe were on the other foot, if it had been your father who ordered you to kill her brother, you would have done the same damn thing. And back then? She didn’t owe you her loyalty.”

“She didn’t tell me once she did.”

He quirks a brow. “That’s true. But what would you have done?”

I blow out a heavy breath, because fuck if I know. But I do know it would be the hardest thing to tell her, even if it was right.

“So are you hurt because she killed him or because she didn’t tell you?” he continues.

I’m not sure. “Does it matter?”

Gio shrugs. “Only you can say if it matters. If you can forgive her.”

Bricks settle in my chest like heavy weights. “Would you?”

“Those are two very different transgressions, so I don’t know. But I know life’s too short to hold grudges and hate in our hearts for the people we love. There’s no?—”

He stops talking suddenly, a choking sound coming from him instead.

I turn to look at him in confusion.

His eyes widen, his mouth opens, and his hand clutches at his chest, red seeping from between his fingers.

“Fuck, Gio.” I rush forward, catching him as he falls. Ice fills my veins when a thick and sticky wetness covers my palms. I lay him down on the ground, wishing I could give him the attention he needs, but if he just got shot, that means I need to think quickly.

I stand, pulling out my gun from my holster and spinning around.

The grim reality of my situation settles in quickly when I see my father holding a weapon with a silencer attached.

His eyes look calm and collected, which means he’s anything but.

Gio’s trying to move, but I can’t afford to lose focus, so I keep my stare on Pops, even though everything in me wants to turn around and make sure the only friend I’ve ever had doesn’t bleed out in front of my piece-of-shit brother’s grave.

“You followed me,” I state. It’s not a question; it’s the only way he would know that I’m here.

My heartbeat pumps erratically, but on the outside, I maintain a calm composure, matching my father’s stance. Even if Gio dies, I can’t break.

My gun has never felt so heavy in my hand, but my soul feels light knowing that however this turns out, this is going to end once and for all.

Either I die, or my father does.

This wasn’t what I had planned, but I’m nothing if I’m not adaptable.

He takes a step toward me, clucking his tongue. “ Figlio mio , you never learn.”

I grit my teeth and don’t reply.

He looks beyond me to Peppino’s gravestone, the one that’s now covered in Gio’s blood spatter, and then back to me. “Poetic—you’ll end up dead right here next to your brother. It saddens me to have to take things this far, but alas, what else is there to do?”

“Have you considered not murdering everyone who has your back?”

Pops laughs. A deep, head-thrown-back belly laugh. “Has my back? I asked you to prove your worth, and you failed . Like usual, I had to send in someone else to clean up the mess you left behind.”

My heart stalls, panic flooding my veins at the thought of something happening to Venesa.

“You really are the biggest kind of disappointment,” he goes on. “Don’t insult me, thinking you can spin those lies, telling me you have my back. You and your brother were a risk I couldn’t afford.”

My breathing stutters, because is he admitting what I think he’s admitting?

Realization settles heavy into my bones. “You took out the hit on Peppino. Of fucking course you did, Jesus Christ .”

“I had him taken care of,” he snaps. “He was going to do it to me, so I beat him to the punch. You fools think I don’t know you want my empire? You want what’s mine?”

I shake my head. “I’ve never wanted what’s yours or his. I was just fine being your loyal lapdog.” I don’t raise my gun, because I know if I do, then he’ll get tipped off that I’m about to kill him, and I’d rather he stay on his soapbox. The thing about men like my father is they become so headstrong, so inflated by their own ego, it becomes almost impossible for them to take someone out without waxing poetic beforehand. And my pops has always been someone who loves to hear himself speak.

His overconfidence has made him deluded enough to think that he’s unbreakable, impenetrable.

So even when he moves forward, backing me into a tree with his gun at my forehead…I let him. And when he wrenches the weapon from my hand with his free one, I don’t resist. And maybe I’ll die right here. Hell, it’s been feeling like I’m on the edge of death all day anyway, so perhaps this is the way my story ends, but fuck going without a fight.

I just have to wait him out and find the right moment.

My eyes flicker behind Pops to where Gio’s splayed out on the ground, not moving. I squint, trying to see if his chest is rising, but he’s too far and my focus is too split.

“This ends here,” Pops says, the barrel of his gun cool against my skin. “You’ve always been weak. But I never expected it to be a whore who took you down, the same way she took down your brother. I won’t let you make changes around here. Be grateful you’re my son, because it’s the only reason I’ll show you any mercy.”

Suddenly, with those words, everything in my life snaps into focus, and the only thing I can think of—the only thing that matters—is Venesa. And the only person who deserves any mercy is her . The hurt of her omission is there, and it won’t go away overnight, but the anger dissipates, clarity replacing every fractal of my thoughts, and I’m overcome with…sadness.

“Thinking about your little slut?” Pops asks.

The disrespect makes me want to lash out, but I still don’t make my move. Let him think he has the upper hand.

He leans in close, something flaring in his eyes. “I’ll be sure to test out what makes her so special before I kill her.”

My insides are churning. I won’t let him near her.

I react as fast as possible, rage blinding my vision, mixing with the need to protect Venesa. To get the chance to forgive her. To let her right her wrongs the same way I’d want her to let me try if the situation were reversed. I grip my father’s wrist, twisting it quickly until it cracks, flipping the gun out of his grasp and into my hands until the barrel is pointed at his head. “You stupid motherfucker,” I spit. “If you had taken one goddamn second to learn anything about me—your son —you would know that I know how to disarm someone.”

Panic flashes in his eyes now. “If you kill me, you’ll never find her.”

I pause, for just a second, wondering if he’s telling me the truth. But I’m not stupid enough to fall for his tricks, and even if he is being honest…I can’t take the risk of keeping him alive.

Shaking my head, I lean in close, spitting out the words. “I’ll always find her. But at least if you’re dead, I’ll be able to sleep at night while I do.”

And then I pull the trigger, closing my eyes when warm blood sprays across my face.

There’s immediate silence following his death, and I expect to feel relief. Instead, a deep longing fills me, an ache to hunt down Venesa as quickly as possible and tell her I love her, because a few seconds ago, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get the chance.

It may take a while for me to forget about what she did, but I think I can forgive her. Her being dishonest doesn’t wash away the fingerprints she’s ingrained in my soul.

Because life’s too short to not hold the ones you love close.

So I’m going to find her, and then I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving her out loud, just like she deserves.