Page 54 of Impenitent Claim

Clutching my planner tight to my chest, I let the tears fall. It would never be enough.

I would never be enough.

There was nothing I could do to truly save Gio. I was a pawn in this game, the same as he was.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I did the only thing I could. I began to pray. Unlike the verses I repeated on Sunday, this had a raw component. My words whispered through the trees, floating on the breeze for a merciful God to hear. Only a supernatural force, a stroke of divine intervention could save us now. I emptied myheart and soul, and when I was mentally spent, the contents of my stomach spewed onto the garden floor.

What if I lost my brother? There would be nothing left for me but misery. The ache that was there when my parents died cracked open, and the mental torment at the idea of losing my brother surged like a living thing, devouring everything inside me.

Painful spasms racked my body as I heaved and coughed. The acidic bile cut my throat. No earthy aroma of plants and chilled ground could cover the smell. When the vomiting passed, I crept away from the spot. There wasn’t enough energy in my muscles to rise and go inside.

Death not only orphaned me but trapped me in a living nightmare. My existence was only bearable because I had someone to live for. I leaned against a tree. Exhaustion was a welcome escape. Minutes later, my body began to shake. Blood drained from my extremities, and my fingers no longer were able to hold the planner. Still, I sat there, hopelessly wishing a plan would present itself to allow Gio and me to escape. At some point, I drifted off to sleep….

Only to wake up on my bed, warm and safe, with no memory of how or when I’d stumbled upstairs.

Chapter 23 – Ilya

The underboss of the Rinaldi Mafia would not stop singing my praises. It was flattering or would have been if it came from anyone but him. His sponsorship not only meant training at his gym but also accompanying him to bars and clubs, poker matches, and other small social events. I could do no wrong in his eyes. I was a skilled combatant in the cage, and my prowess had been proven at the attack on their little mafia party. I was Tullio’s prized champion—the king of the forest. The bear! While the endless obligations annoyed me, it meant I was penetrating the Rinaldi organization. Opportunities were opening, and it was only a matter of time before I manipulated them to my advantage.

But I had to be patient and endure the spotlight.

Another unforeseen stroke of luck was that this sponsorship was leading to other ideas as well. Tullio was eager to put me in the field. He wanted to include me in mafia business, promoting me to the rank of associate, and that was why he’d invited me to the don’s house tonight. It was the first time since coming to the East Coast that I didn’t sneak onto the property. I wasn’thiding in the shadows but walking through the front door at the invitation of Tullio, who was going to propose the idea to Don Aldo that I go out with the candidates for consideration to be trained.

This whole plan was stupid because Tullio knew next to nothing about me. The don told him as much before an argument broke out between the ruling heads of the famiglia. They slammed the door to the don’s private office where their garbled shouts still came through the wood.

That left me free to wander about the house. Avoiding the other mafia punks, I stayed on the main floor. I didn’t dare venture upstairs in case Tullio came looking for me. He might think I was an oaf, but I didn’t need him to wonder why I was prowling near the family bedrooms. For the first ten minutes, I found a dark corner to lurk in where I could watch and yet avoid interaction with the Italian soldiers. I knew this house better than they did. The longer I waited, the more disgust built inside. It was a good thing I wasn’t going out to fight with them. It would be hard not to do a better job than the new recruits. Annoyed, I lost interest watching the swaggering bravado.

As the others made their final preparations to leave, I decided to fix myself a snack. No one could fault me for grabbing a bite of food. With a chuckle, I sauntered to the kitchen. While hunting for a loaf of bread, I caught the wisp of a ghost flitting out into the night.

My heart skipped a beat. I wet my lips in anticipation.

There was no one about, but I moved to the doorway to check the hall. Only the drone of the house sounded. The maids had left for the day as had the mafia soldiers assembled for their orders. I smiled darkly. No one would stop me from following Isabella.

So I did, darting out the sliding back door.

The little siren wanted me to give chase. Well, a bear was a predatorial creature. One that very much enjoyed the hunt.

Since the sun had set behind the house, the shadows were longer and the breeze brisk. I inhaled deeply, feeling the rush of excitement only a chase of this nature could invoke. Did she know I was here? Was that why she was playing games? Either way, no one was about to interrupt us. The mansion was on a couple acres of land, and the backyard was filled with trees and other foliage. The guards stayed on the perimeter and cameras only watched the typical entrance points.

Which left souls like me free to stalk their prey.

The indescribable rush of excitement was cut short when I heard her. Nothing could have prepared me for what I found. I stopped abruptly, and within seconds, my heart began to bleed from my chest.

Isabella wept. Not just soft tears of discomfort. No, these were the sounds of someone whose heart was breaking. Every ragged breath, every sob that stuck in her throat, was an icy shard jabbing straight into my chest.

Did I go to her? Would she want comfort?

I fisted my hands at my side. I was obsessed with her, infatuated to the point of needing to make her mine at all costs. But going to her in such an intimate moment? That felt like an intrusion.

I haven’t earned the right to be there for her.

And that realization sent a surge of wrath through me. It was true. While we had some primal, physical connection, and I had become very well acquainted with her likes and dislikes over the time spent watching her, we were essentially strangers in the deeper, more meaningful ways.

“I will change that,” I promised, my words a whisper through the chilly evening.

Isabella’s lips began to move as if in response. It took a moment to realize that she was praying, so soft were her words that they barely sounded through her sniffles and body-shaking gulps of air. I deduced from her intercessions that Isabella was fearful for her brother’s safety.

Thatwas something I could fix.

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