Page 135 of Savage Saint
The line goes dead. I set the phone down and turn to face Kasia fully. She's already standing, testing her balance despite the painkillers and blood loss.
"Your father's dead," she says. Not a question.
"Yeah."
She studies my face for a long moment. I wonder what she sees there. Relief? Guilt about the relief? The complete absence of grief that should probably worry me?
"How do you feel?" she asks.
"Like the monster who made me is finally gone." The honesty tumbles out before I can stop it. "Is that fucked up?"
"No." She moves closer, her uninjured hand reaching up to touch my cheek. "It's honest."
That's what I love about her. No judgment, no false comfort, no attempt to make me feel something I don't. Just acceptance of who I am, broken pieces and all.
"We need to go to Dante's," I tell her. "Family meeting."
"I'm coming with you."
I hesitate. Maybe she should stay. She's been through enough tonight.
"You're hurt. You lost blood. You should rest—"
"I'm coming with you," she repeats, more firmly this time. "We're partners now, remember? That means I stand with you when your family needs you."
Partners. The word settles something in my chest. Not protector and protected. Not keeper and kept. Partners.
"It won't be pretty. There's a protocol when a Don dies, even one who hasn't been mentally present for years. Politics. Power plays. Other families will be watching how we handle this."
"Then they'll see us handle it together." She moves to my closet, pulling out one of my dark button-downs with her good arm. "Help me with this?"
I assist her into the shirt, careful not to jostle her injured arm. The fabric swamps her small frame, but it covers the bandages and bloodstains. She looks pale but determined.
"You sure about this?" I ask.
"Angelo." She turns to face me fully. "I killed the man who destroyed my childhood tonight. I took a bullet for you. I told you I love you while bleeding on an airfield." Her eyes burn with intensity. "Standing by your side while you deal with your father's death is nothing compared to that."
She's right. We've been through hell and back together. This is just the next step.
"Alright. But if you need to leave, if it gets too much—"
"I won't." She moves to the door, then looks back at me. "Are you ready for this?"
Am I? Massimo is dead. The man whom I have hated all my life, who made me believe I was nothing but violence and rage. Who showed me that love was weakness and family was about fear and control.
"Yeah," I say, and mean it. "I'm ready."
The drive to Dante's house is quiet. Kasia dozes against the passenger window, the painkillers finally kicking in fully. Every few minutes, I glance over to make sure she's still breathing steadily. The sight of her blood earlier tonight aged me about ten years.
Dante's mansion looms against the night sky, every window lit up. I can see Luca's Ferrari in the driveway.
I park and gently shake Kasia awake. "We're here."
She blinks slowly, then sits up straighter. "How do I look?"
"Like you've been through hell." I brush a strand of red hair away from her face. "But you're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
A small smile crosses her lips. "Charmer."
