He Made Me Bark, I Grabbed His Gun

Chapter 4

The emergency hallway stretched on forever.

White lights.

White walls.

The sharp smell of disinfectant drilled straight into my nose.

Santino was wheeled into surgery. The doors closed, and the red light above them flicked on.

I crouched in front of Mama while a nurse cleaned the cuts on her forehead and knees.

“Mom.”

Her hand reached for mine and gripped it, trembling badly.

“Your hand—”

“It’s not my blood.”

She looked at me, her eyes red. Her lips moved.

“Vivi, all these years out there…”

“Mom. I’m back. That’s enough.”

She refused to let go of my hand. There was still dried blood caught beneath her fingernails.

“Jo—Vivi.”

She corrected herself, as if she was afraid the new name might scare me away.

“From now on, don’t be the one who charges in first. You have brothers for that.”

I gave a quiet “Mm.”

I didn’t tell her that tonight, the person who belonged at the front had always been me.

I didn’t let her continue. I stood and walked over to Papa.

He was staring at the operating room doors, his back straight as steel that refused to bend.

“Dad. When Victor left, he said he’d go after the Long Island warehouse, the Queens restaurants, and the Port of Naples.”

“I heard.”

“He won’t move immediately. He didn’t open fire in the living room tonight because he still cares about his reputation. But once he gets home and calms down, he’ll start thinking about how to take back the humiliation he suffered tonight.”

“Within three days, he’ll move on Naples first.”

Papa lifted his eyes.

“Why Naples?”

“Because it’s the farthest. Cargo from Naples takes two weeks to reach New York. That gives him two full weeks to spread the word across the entire East Coast—that De Luca cargo was detained and the De Lucas didn’t dare strike back.”

“The Hamiltons in Boston control the other half of the East Coast ports. They’ve been waiting to laugh at the De Lucas for years. As soon as Victor makes the first move, they’ll follow. They’ll push prices down and start stealing routes.”

“Once every family sees the De Lucas swallowing this insult, Victor will circle back and slowly deal with Long Island and Queens.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because if it were me, that’s how I’d play it.”

Papa stared at me for a long time.

It was the kind of look that said he was trying to learn his daughter all over again.

“Dad, promise me one thing. Don’t touch the Naples shipment. Let him hold it. I’ll handle this.”

“How?”

“I have my own people. The rest can wait until Santino comes out.”

Something shifted in his eyes.

But he was still a Don.

He didn’t ask.

He only nodded.

“Fine.”

Hurried footsteps sounded outside the ward.

Marco arrived first. He was still in his suit, his tie crooked. The second he came in, he grabbed Santino’s uninjured hand, his voice shaking under control.

“Who did this?”

No one answered.

Then he turned and saw me.

He froze for half a second before crossing the room in three long strides and wrapping me completely in his arms.

“You’re home,” he kept saying. “That’s all that matters. You’re home.”

He smelled like cold airplane air and the last trace of cigarette smoke.

I stiffened for a moment.

But I didn’t pull away.

It was the first time in twenty years someone had held me like this—and I hadn’t instinctively calculated the distance to his throat.

I sat back down on the bench.

My phone buzzed again.

Same number.

[My little lab rat grew up. Got bold, too.]

[But do you remember how A-03 died? She died for you.]

A-03.

The girl who used to follow me everywhere.

The girl who copied everything I did, even stepping into my footprints when we walked.

That day, they injected her with an overdose of adrenaline.

Her heart stopped for seven minutes right in front of us.

I held her and watched the light in her eyes go out, little by little.

Her last words were—

“Big sister, I’m cold.”

I stared at the screen.

My throat tightened like a hand had closed around it.

I locked the phone, shoved it back into my pocket, and leaned against the cold wall with my eyes closed.

I told myself the girl who had held A-03 and waited for her to die was already dead.

But the warmth of the phone case still burned in my palm.

Like an unfinished threat.

Reminding me—

After twenty years, this debt still hadn’t been paid.