Page 134 of The Diávolos: Part Two
Atlas nods before moving his hand away. “I’ve got some cleaning up to do,” he grunts out and walks away, through a passageway, leaving us alone in the common space without another word.
I turn to look at my wife and can’t bear the sadness on her face.
“How’s your thigh?” I ask with a smirk, attempting to distract her.
A flush of warmth creeps across her cheeks, casting a rosy hue. I can almost see the vivid memory of what unfolded in the room flashing through her mind.
She lifts the medical gown, exposing the white bandage I applied to her skin while she was asleep. “How will I get rid of you now?”
“The goal is not to, my angel.”
35
ANGELICA
“The memories you have are just recordings of things past, not chains to bind you.”
—Michael Dolan
Back at Saintville, I stand frozen in the foyer, like a mere spectator of my own existence, grappling with the weight of what just happened. My body feels as dull as my senses.
My father and a man I’d considered family are now dead. I’m alone, the only Kouvalakis left, save for my extended relatives, people whom I never cared about, and they for me. Not because I have anything against them, I just never grew up around any of my aunts, uncles, and cousins. They’re strangers.
Evander puts his hands on my shoulders, and I flinch. He releases me.
“I’m sorry. I’m still a little shaken.”
“Don’t apologize, my angel,” he replies, leading me through the hallway to our room.Ourroom.
As husband and wife.The real version this time.
I move through the corridor mechanically, my limbs heavy and uncoordinated.
Once we step inside the bedroom, I sit on the edge of the bed.
“Where do we go from here?” I ask.
When I was growing up, the idea of being part of the mob never appealed to me, especially after what happened tomama. As an adult, I dreamed of a simpler life, one far away from my father’s shadow.
But life has a funny way of twisting your dreams into something almost unrecognizable.
Everything I've gone through pushed me right back into the arms of the mob. It’s ironic how the very thing I fought so hard against has now become my salvation. I can feel the weight of the decision pressing on my shoulders. The knot in my stomach tightens as I grapple with the acceptance of this life. I never wanted this, yet here I am.
I can’t deny it any longer. The thrill of the danger, the power that comes with the territory—it’s intoxicating.Maybe it was my calling all along.
My path led me to a dark place, but I can't help but feel a strange sense of belonging to it now. As if it opened up a side of me I never knew was missing.
The realization settles over me like a heavy cloak but, as much as it goes against everything I once believed, the mob life is in my blood, and I'll embrace it with a newfound respect.
Evan sits next to me, the bed dipping under his weight. “That should be the last of your concerns, Angelica. You’ve been through so much. You need to rest,” he murmurs, squeezing my knee.
The aftermath of trauma is a bewildering journey. I know I have to take the time to find my way out of this labyrinth of emotions and memories—old and new—but I refuse to stay idle. I need to put myself to work to forget.
“No, I need to do something. We have to act fast, or the other families will pounce at the opportunity to take over,” I rush out, my thoughts already going into overdrive.
“They won’t. We made a pact and they accepted our plan. Nothing else is going to happen, my angel.”
I let out a sigh.I need to calm down. I’m losing it.“You’re right. I shouldn’t be concerned about that right now.”
