Bound by Blood and Betrayal

4

Chapter 2

Alessio

I f*****g hated funerals.

The fact that it was my mother’s made it ten times worse. I hadn’t been close to my mother. It was impossible with my father - correction, bastard stepfather - around.

The fucker loved tormenting everyone around him. He hadn’t even given Branka a chance to say goodbye. He held our mother cut off from everyone until she was dead. For goddamn days.

Throwing an impatient look at my watch, I noted the time. I had another twenty minutes before I had to head out, or I wouldn’t make it to the cemetery on time. I poured myself another scotch and downed it in one gulp.

Montréal. Québec. I ruled everything in these territories and east of them, all the way to the Atlantic Ocean.

From the window of my office, I could see the Saint Lawrence River. The ships traveled at a slow speed, fooling you into believing this city had a slow pace. It was anything but slow, and the corruption ran deep. I’d experienced it firsthand.

Fuck, I ran it. Owned it. Ruled it.

Before me, it was my stepfather that had these streets running red. He climbed the ladder by killing the innocent, weak, and powerful; no cost was too great to him when reaching for his goal.

I guess in that regard he wasn’t too different from my biological father. f**k them both. I just wished it was him that I was burying today.

Not my mother.

He knew it too. It was the f*****g reason he pulled that stunt. Jesus f*****g Christ, I tasted what this world would be without him for the briefest moment. Thank God I didn’t message Branka to let her know. She endured enough torment from our father. This would have been too much.

Now, I had to protect my sister more than ever. I failed Mia, I couldn’t repeat the same mistake. Branka couldn’t endure Father’s cruelty. It left a goddamn mark on her, although she appeared strong and invincible. She wasn’t; if anything, she was fragile and so easily breakable.

Flicking another glance out the window, I knew time was running out. I poured another and relished in the bitterness as it slid down my throat.

I’d have to head to the gravesite.

If for nobody else, then for Branka. For my mother. For Mia.

THE RUSSO MANSION was the most expensive stretch of real estate in the province of Québec, possibly Canada. It was two hundred acres of prime real estate on one of the Great Lakes.

My mother would be buried among all the other Russo family members, living her eternal life among enemies. In their family cemetery. It f*****g rubbed me the wrong way. I wanted to burn the motherfucking place down and move her and Mia, my sister, to my own property with a little chapel and cemetery where they could have peace in their death.

Since they couldn’t have it in life. At least Mia and Mother would be together. After all, she always hoped for Mother’s salvation. It was for Mia that I’d saved her that day.

I threw a hateful gaze at my father who stood with a smug smirk next to Branka. I just wanted to reach out and choke the life out of him. See the light extinguished from his eyes. I was at Luciano’s earlier this week when I got the note. My father was dead and I needed to rush home.

So I did. Only to find my mother dead. I should have known better. The man loved to torment everyone around him. Even when we were kids, he loved to destroy anything good we had. Fashion designs for Mia. Learning self-defense skills for Branka. Building furniture for me. f**k, he killed everything just to hurt our mother.

Every. Single. Thing. That woman couldn’t eat without being tormented.

I closed my eyes, remembering the misery she called her life.

Mother showed up in my bedroom. Her long white nightgown swallowed her frail frame. She never came to my room, so I tensed, watching her warily.

“Come along, Alessandro,” she called out, her voice soft. A rare show of emotions shone in her eyes. She looked like a caring, doting mother, ready to take on the world. It shot a warning through my fifteen-year-old brain.

Mother usually stared with an empty gaze at the world, moving through the mechanics of life on a day-to-day basis.

I narrowed my eyes on her. I didn’t hate Mother. I felt sorry for her, but I didn’t like that she was weak. I found Father extinguishing his cigarette on Branka’s little body and Mother just watched him.

She f*****g watched him, her gray eyes dull.

“Your sisters are with me.”

That had me jumping off my bed and following her. I had outgrown her, my frame already about three inches taller than her. It didn’t stop me from wanting a hug. Or comforting words, here and there.

All I got was beatings from Father, his hate constantly staring me in the face. Apathy from Mother, her dead eyes staring everywhere but at me. They both hated me. They hated my sisters too. What had we done to them to deserve it?

The moment we stepped inside the bedroom, Mother shut the door behind me with a soft click. Then she locked it, pulling the key out of the door. My sisters sat on the large bed. Branka was still an infant, her lungs carrying a high-pitch note that pierced through my brain. Mia, who just turned ten yesterday, sat next to her, her eyes wide in fear and her face smeared with tears.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her, dread pooling in the pit of my stomach.

“Father burned Branka,” Mia rasped, her body shaking.

“He won’t hurt us anymore.” My mother’s voice was eerily calm. The expression on her face was that of a madwoman. She had finally snapped.

Before I could ponder the meaning of her words, she strode in slow, heavy steps towards her dresser while I closed the distance between my sisters and me. Taking Branka into my arms, I cradled her and pulled up the little shirt up to check her wound.

“I-is she gonna die?” Mia’s voice shook like a leaf in the wind.

I shook my head. “We have to clean it,” I told her and shot to my feet. Mia followed, her auburn mane a mess and her eyes watching me like I was her savior. I f*****g failed. I always failed. If I was a savior, I’d have taken my sisters and disappeared.

Forever. Somewhere where nobody would find us.

A simple life. I could fish and hunt, feed them. I was good with building furniture. I could sell it. I could teach my sisters whatever I knew. We’d be safe; we’d be happy.

The smell of smoke filled the room and I whirled around. My mother flicked a box of matches onto the curtains that were already burning and my chest froze.

We’d burn. She meant to burn us.

“He won’t hurt us anymore,” she repeated her earlier words and I finally understood the meaning. Branka started to scream again. Mia cried, pale and sweaty, while staring at the flames.

I took Mia’s hand in mine and rushed toward the window, dragging her with me. Keeping Branka shielded with my body, I ripped at the curtains, ignoring the pain on my skin. Flames licked at my forearms, my back as I kept Mia and Branka shielded.

“You have to jump,” I ordered Mia. She shook her head frantically, while mother sat on the floor. Numb and ready to die. “Now!”

Two stories down to fall. It was our best chance at survival.

She took a step forward, then glanced at me over her shoulder. “I’m right behind you,” I assured her.

“What about Mother?” she whispered, her eyes flickering to the broken woman.

“I’ll take care of everything.”

She jumped. Father’s men were already alerted, shouting and screaming filled the night. Keeping Branka out of our mother’s reach, I took three steps to her and yanked her with my free hand.

She stumbled, reverting back to her old, empty self. Maybe I should let her burn; let her find peace in death. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

I pulled her with me, flames quickly spreading and licking at our backs. Once at the window, Mother’s eyes met mine.

Dead. She was already dead.

I pushed her out of the window, and I f*****g prayed she’d find her peace. She didn’t want this anymore.

I jumped out of the window with Branka in my arms. I fell on my back, the wind knocked out of me. The lawn felt hard as a rock, but I knew it saved me from breaking some bones. All that mattered to me was that the baby in my arms was unharmed.

For her, I’d break all my bones.

My eyes flickered to the grave. She held it against me for saving her. For saving Mia and Branka.

She didn’t have to say it, but I saw it in her eyes. Accusation that I had taken away an escape.

For me, my mother died that night. I had mourned her a long time ago.