Page 59 of Pocketful of Us

"Giacobbe," Raffaele choked out, voice cracking with emotion. "Son."

"Dad," Sketch continued to chant, fruitlessly willing his father back to life. "Please come back."

"How can you just stand there!" I cried, glowering daggers at Olivia Capaldi, who looked on emotionlessly. "He was yourhusband!"

"He chose the wrong side," was all she replied, and it was a cold, heartless response.

"No, you're the one who did that," I squeezed out, desperate to get to Sketch, but the hold my brother had on my arm made it impossible for me to do so. "And you," I seethed, glowering at the red-haired whore in the flesh. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

Victoria sniffed the air like I had insulted her. "Never."

"Enough," Daddy commanded. "The show, as they say in theater, must go on." Turning to Raffaele, he smiled. "I have a proposition for you, Raff – identical to the proposition you offered to me."

Raffaele narrowed his eyes in disgust. "Calisto –"

"You and your son can walk free from this room tonight. All you have to do is kill the girl who houses your grandchild. Sounds like a fair trade? Two lives for the price of two lives." My father's words, so similar to the ultimatum Raffaele had given him, caused every drop of blood in my body to turn to ice. "Or… you could do us all a favor, put a bullet in your own brain, and they all go free." Grinning like a maniac, Dad retrieved a silver pistol from one of his guards and handed it to Raffaele. "And remember, there is only one bullet, Raff, so choose wisely."

Seth snorted beside me.

Meanwhile, I died on the inside.

I was going to die.

Raffaele didn’t have a choice.

It was his life or mine.

That was no competition at all.

Just like his son did before him, Raffaele hacked up a ball of phlegm and spat at Cal. Then he turned to look at Sketch who was still cradling his lifeless cousin on the floor.

"I failed to protect you once, Giacobbe," Raff announced in a gravely tone. He placed a tentative hand on Sketch's bowed head. "But I won't fail you twice."

And then Raffaele Toretto, the grandfather of my unborn child, made the ultimate sacrifice any father could make for his son.

He pressed the barrel of the gun against his head and pulled the trigger, just as Sketch cried out, "No, papa, no!"

Fragments of Raffaele's brain matter splattered everywhere, and then his lifeless corpse joined the equally lifeless corpse of his cousin on the floor.

Shaking violently, Sketch knelt between both dead men, body swaying back and forth; his vacant eyes wide as saucers.

Shock, I quickly realized.

He was going into shock.

"Oh my God," I sobbed, breaking free from my brother's hold. Surprisingly, Seth let me go and I ran straight to the boy with the bleeding heart.

"Sketch!" Falling on my knees beside him, I threw my arms around his big body. "Shh." Cradling his head to my chest, I tried to cover his eyes with my hands. I didn’t want him to see this. I didn’t want him to have to remember this moment or have it haunt his dreams every night for the rest of his life. "I'm here."

"Well, I didn’t expect him to do that," Dad said, sounding thoughtful.

"Raff loved his son," I hissed through my teeth, tears falling uncontrollably. "Which is more than can be said for you,Cal."

27

Sketch

Cold and merciless, Cal Dillon took everything from me.

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