Page 20 of Savage Enemy

I had lied to his face over and over without hesitation. I told him that he was to blame for everything. I willingly allowed him to draw the wrong conclusions about me, about my motivations, about my past.

Stefano had shouldered the blame, the regret, the sadness, and I just let him live with it all. Alone.

Endless opportunities had existed for me to tell him the truth, to ask him for help, a thousand chances to give him my real name and tell him where I came from.

After discovering his identity, I should have revealed mine, but no, I left him like a spineless little bitch instead. And worse, because God knew I hadn’t stopped there, I hid his only child from him, his son.

He was right to call me a coward.

That’s exactly what I’d always been.

I blinked up at him, and he frowned, the line between his brows going deep again. Then pain flashed through his eyes, and seeing him hurt that way shattered my heart.

Stefano hadn’t caused any of this.

I did it all on my own.

Just me.

I couldn’t go back in time and change my bad choices, but I could start protecting him and our son now.

My life was forfeit anyway.

Accepting my fate meant giving my boys a better chance.

But my mind raced too quickly for a thoughtful plan.

However screwed up my brain might have been, I understood one thing. My behavior in front of my father determined whether Stefano and Enzo lived through the night.

SECONDS LATER OR AN ETERNITY

Saul Moscatelli hacked out a wet, phlegmy cough that turned my stomach.

Yeah. No longer would I call this depraved asshole my father. He never had and never would love me or keep me safe.

“Don’t you have something to say, Princess?” he asked.

“Make it happen, sister, or I come out to play,” Aris added.

Saul’s words, Aris’s words, the image of Enzo lying unconscious on the floor, the hurt in Stefano’s eyes… it all swirled inside my skull like a hurricane, making it hard to focus on any one thing.

Why the fuck didn’t Marco intervene?

I mean, of course he wouldn’t act against the family, but he had always been good at softening the blows.

So much time had passed since I’d been around my brothers. I didn’t know who they were anymore, or what they were capable of now. I couldn’t be sure about how they would react to anything.

Saul Moscatelli, on the other hand, had not changed. His tactics seemed to be the same, so he wouldn’t kill Stefano unless Stefano forced his hand. And even in that case, it might be more trouble to Saul than it was worth.

He knew starting a war with New York would be expensive, turning no profit at all for him.

He wouldn’t stop the violent hands of my brothers, though. If one of the Moscatelli boys started a war, Saul would let the chipsfall where they may. And if my brothers won, he would take credit. If they lost, not so much.

As we grew up, Saul often said to the boys, “Weakness gets culled from the herd.”

Phrases like that helped him justify death. Even if it meant sacrificing a son, the man would wash his hands clean of blame.

My nonna had disagreed with Saul’s tactics and beliefs about death, but if he caught her even thinking it, he would punish her. Still, she found ways to teach me how to be mentally stronger than the men.

---