Page 143 of Rosetti Family New York
The Rosettis stare at me, waiting for the punchline. Used to watching my every move, thinking they know my loyalties. I feel like I’m watching it with them, rewriting it line by line. "Call them off," I repeat. The words echo in the silence, everyone caught between breaths.
“They won’t listen to you,” he says.
"They’ll listen to you," I counter, pushing it further, the gun rising with the words. My chin is up, my heart pounding, but I hold it all steady. "Or you’ll be the first to fall."
I watch him, watch the pieces move in his mind. It’s such a familiar look, one I’ve seen since I was a child. It always made him seem invincible. But now I see more. I see doubt.
Dom rises slowly behind the debris, still not sure which side I’m on. I don't blame him. But I keep the gun steady, my eyes locked on my father.
Adrian holds my gaze.
“You’d betray your blood?” he asks.
“You already did.”
Silence. It hangs heavy, weighing down on all of us. It presses on my chest. Dust swirls in chaotic patterns. My pulse is a war drum. I watch him, waiting for his next move, my eyes never leaving his face. Come on, Baba. Show me your cards.
Then he speaks.
“Stand down,” Adrian says. His voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding. “All of you.”
The words echo, bouncing off stone and metal. For a second, no one moves. His men hesitate, but then his order takes hold. They obey. One by one, guns lower. Movements slow. The storm begins to still around us, a sudden and unnatural calm following in its wake. Rosetti and Dushku alike watch me, watch him, unsure of what comes next.
Dom doesn’t move. Neither do I.
Adrian looks at me with new eyes.
“You’ve become ugly,” he says softly.
“No,” I say. “I’ve finally become real.”
Baba’s men, the Albanians, leave the theater until it is just the Rosettis left. And me.
I turn to Dom. To the only man who looked at me and didn’t see a tool, a weapon, a daughter to barter. But the last thing he said to me was that I was no longer his wife, so I suppose we have no relationship at all.
"Besiana," he says, his voice a ghost of a whisper, almost lost to the settling dust.
Those sharp green eyes study me, searching for an explanation, a justification for my actions. But no words come. Instead, I let my arm drop to my side, the gun feeling heavier with each passing second.
“You’re hurt.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. He moves as if to approach me, but then stops short. His gaze never leaves mine.
“I’ve been worse,” he says with an attempt at a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s an awkward silence between us, filled only by our ragged breaths and the distant echo of retreating footsteps.
An unexpected wave of vulnerability washes over me. Stripped bare of the pretense, the lies, and the deceit, I'm left standing before him as just Besiana.
Without a word, he reaches out and carefully removes the gun from my still-trembling hand. I let go without protest, watching as he places it on a nearby fallen beam. His gaze lingers on the weapon, his fingers tracing the cool metal almost absentmindedly.
“You could’ve killed him,” he states, finally breaking the silence. It’s not a question, more like an observation. He doesn’t look at me as he says it but keeps his focus on the gun.
“I know,” I reply quietly, my fingers curling and uncurling at my sides. I glance down at my hands, stained with dust and ash, the lingering echo of the gun's weight still palpable.
Dom’s gaze turns to me then, studying my face closely. It’s as though he’s seeing me for the first time, trying to make sense of what he thought he knew versus what he now sees standing in front of him. “Why didn’t you?”
A multitude of answers rush forward. I could say that I don't want to become like my father or that I rather want him to live with the knowledge that he's been bested by his own daughter. But instead, I let out a sigh. My eyes meet Dom's, holding his gaze steady.
"Because that's not who I am," I say.
The words are simple, but they hang heavy between us. For the first time in my life, I feel as though I am truly standing on my own two feet, without the burden of my father's expectations or the weight of family loyalty dictating my every move.
