The Mafia Brothers And The Mermaid

4

Enzo

The first rays of sunlight were barely cutting through the thick pine trees when a sleek black SUV pulled into the dirt driveway of the abandoned cabin. The engine cut out, and the woods fell dead silent again.

I stood by the rotting wooden window frame, my hand resting on the heavy grip of a stolen shotgun I had found under the cabin's floorboards.

The SUV door opened. Leonardo stepped out alone, his tall, muscular frame clad in a dark coat. He was my most trusted caporegime, a man who had served my father before me. He carried a leather duffel bag in one hand, his eyes scanning the treeline like a hawk.

I unbolted the cabin door and stepped out into the morning fog.

Leo froze. His jaw dropped, and for a man who had spent thirty years in the Sicilian underworld, he looked like he was seeing a ghost.

"Don Enzo..." Leo breathed, his voice barely a whisper. He dropped the duffel bag into the mud and rushed forward, stopping just short of touching me to ensure I was real. "By the Saints... you're alive. Both of you?"

"We're alive, Leo," I said, my voice cold and hard.

Alessio stepped out from behind me, leaning against the doorframe. "You look disappointed, Leo," he joked, though his voice lacked its usual spark.

"Disappointed?" Leo let out a disbelieving laugh, running a hand over his shaved head. "Boss, the Veleno... the yacht exploded three miles off the coast at three in the morning. Gianna Moretti reported to the syndicate that you and Alessio were killed in a botched negotiation. The entire island of Sicily thinks the Romano brothers are fish food right now."

I narrowed my eyes, digesting the news. An explosion. They didn't just want to kill us; they wanted to erase the evidence. They wanted to make sure our bodies were burnt or torn to pieces so no one could ask questions about the bullet holes.

"Who else knows you're here?" I asked sharp.

"No one," Leo swore, lowering his voice. "I brought the clean car myself, just like you asked. I didn't tell your uncle, I didn't tell the capos. I told the family I was going out to clear my head."

"Good," I said, a dark smile touching my lips. "Keep it that way."

"What do you mean?" Alessio asked, stepping forward, his brow furrowed. "Enzo, we have to go back! We have to show the family we're alive and tear Gianna Moretti's throat out!"

"No," I cut him off, turning to look at my brother. "If the syndicate thinks we're dead, the traitor inside our family thinks they won. They're going to make their move. They'll reach for power, try to claim our territory, and reveal themselves. If we show our faces now, they'll just try to finish the job. We stay dead until I know every single name involved."

Leo nodded slowly. "Smart. But boss... how did you survive an explosion and a bullet to the chest? The whole coast was covered in fire."

"We were thrown into the water before it blew," I said briefly. I didn't want to explain the impossible closed wounds on our bodies. I didn't even understand them myself. "And we had help."

I stepped back into the cabin and motioned for her to come out.

Nerissa stepped into the pale morning light. She looked impossibly fragile in her ragged pale dress, wrapped in the dark wool blanket I had given her inside. Her bare feet were bound in the bloodied strips of my shirt, and her striking blue eyes blinked against the sunlight.

Leo stared at her, utterly bewildered. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Nerissa," Alessio chimed in, leaning closer to me. "She's coming with us, Enzo."

"Excuse me?" I looked at my brother.

"Look at her, Enzo," Alessio whispered fiercely, making sure Leo couldn't hear. "She's the one who pulled us out. She knows we were shot. If the Morettis find her wandering around this beach, they'll realize someone saved us. Or worse, they'll torture her to find out where we went. We can't leave her here."

I looked at Nerissa. She was staring down at the dirt road, her shoulders trembling slightly.

"Nerissa," I said, stepping toward her. "We're leaving. You're coming with us."

She immediately took a step backward, her eyes widening in sudden panic. "No," she said, her voice small but firm. "I... I cannot go deeper onto the land."

"You don't have a choice," I told her, keeping my voice gentle despite the hardness in my words. "Whoever attacked us is still out there. Look."

I pointed down the dirt track toward the lower ridge. Through the trees, two black pickup trucks with tinted windows were slowly crawling along the coastal road below. Armed men were visible in the back, scanning the rocks and shoreline with binoculars.

"They are hunting," I said quietly, watching her face. "If they find you here alone, they will kill you. Coming with us is the only way you stay breathing."

Nerissa looked down at the men on the road, then back toward the distant, hidden ocean behind the cliffs. A look of deep, heartbreaking sorrow washed over her face. She looked like a prisoner being dragged away from her home.

"Very well," she whispered, her voice laced with a tragic resignation that made my chest tighten. "I will come."

Ten minutes later, we were speeding away down a private inland mountain route in Leo's heavy SUV.

Alessio sat in the front passenger seat with a loaded handgun in his lap, constantly checking the side mirrors. Leo was driving. I sat in the back with Nerissa.

The moment the engine had roared to life and the metal machine had lurched forward, Nerissa had gasped. She had seized the leather armrest so hard her knuckles turned stark white. Her entire body was stiff as a board, her breath coming in fast, terrified hitches every time the car took a sharp turn or passed over a bump.

She was trying desperately to hide her terror, biting her lower lip until it nearly bled, but her luminous blue eyes were wide with pure, unadulterated fear.

Alessio glanced back in the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing with deep suspicion. "Is she serious?" he muttered to me under his breath. "She acts like she's never seen a car before. Enzo, I'm telling you, this chick is weird. No shoes, no name, doesn't know what a car is, and somehow heals bullet wounds? It doesn't add up."

"Shut up, Alessio," I growled softly.

I turned my head to study Nerissa quietly. Alessio was right, of course. Nothing about her made sense. Her speech was too formal, her skin was far too pale, and she looked at everyday human objects as if they were alien technology. And then there were the wounds—or lack thereof. I had felt the cold hand of death dragging me under the sea last night. I knew I had been shot in the back. Yet now, there was nothing left but smooth, faint pink scars.

She was hiding something massive. Something dangerous.

But she saved my brother, I thought, watching a stray lock of her dark hair bounce against her cheek. She pulled us out of the grave when she could have let us sink. I owed her my life, and a Romano always paid his debts.

As we drove farther inland, away from the coast and deeper into the dry Sicilian mountains, I noticed a disturbing change in her.

Her skin, which had been pale before, was becoming unnaturally dry and flaky. Her lips were cracking, and she leaned her head weakly against the cool glass of the car window. She looked exhausted, her breathing shallow, as if the very air in the mountains was poisoning her.

"Drink this," I said, reaching into the small fridge between the seats and pulling out a bottle of cold mineral water. I unscrewed the cap and handed it to her.

She looked at the plastic bottle in confusion, then up at me.

"Water," I said simply.

She took the bottle with trembling hands and brought it to her lips. She drank it greedily, almost desperately, spilling drops down her chin and neck. The moment the water hit her system, a tiny bit of color flushed back into her cheeks, though she still looked dangerously frail.

"We're almost there, boss," Leo announced from the front.

The SUV turned off the main road and approached a massive set of iron gates embedded in high stone walls. The Romano estate—our family’s ancestral mansion, hidden deep in the hills of Palermo. It was a fortress, equipped with armed guards, security cameras, and high-tech panic rooms. Safe from Moretti bullets.

The heavy iron gates swung open automatically, and Leo drove the car up the long, winding cobblestone driveway, stopping right in front of the grand marble entrance.

"Stay low," I ordered, slipping a dark jacket over my head to cover my face from any servants who might be looking out the windows. "We go straight to the private wing."

I opened the SUV door and stepped out into the hot afternoon air. Alessio followed, his hand on his weapon, scanning the estate's perimeter.

I turned back to help Nerissa out of the back seat. She placed her small, dry hand in mine and stepped down onto the cobblestones.

The moment both of her feet touched the stone floor of the mansion's courtyard, her body gave out.

Her knees buckled instantly, turning to water. She didn't faint—her eyes remained wide and filled with sudden, agonizing pain—but her legs simply refused to support her frame any longer.

"Nerissa!" I caught her before her face hit the hard stone, pulling her limp, burning body into my arms.

She clutched desperately at my shirt, gasping for air as if she were drowning on dry land. Her skin was scorching hot to the touch, and her luminous blue eyes were fading, turning dull and misty.

"The... water..." she choked out, her weak voice barely audibly raspy against my neck. "Too... far..."