Page 57 of Veil of the Past
“I used to think,” Mara continues, her voice steadier now, “that if I just held onto the anger, if I just kept it burning hot, I’d never feel the pain. But… the anger only lasted so long. Eventually, it just left me empty. I had to find a way to fill that emptiness… with memories, with the good things, even when it hurt.”
I feel a tear slip down my cheek, and I nod, my throat tight. I know exactly what she means, that empty feeling, that desperate need to hold onto anything that makes sense when everything else is falling apart.
Valentina shifts beside me, her hand still holding mine, her thumb brushing gently over my knuckles. She takes a deep breath, like she’s steeling herself for something difficult, something she’s kept locked away.
“When I decided to be with Emiliano,” Valentina begins, her voice low, “I knew I was making a choice. I knew I’d have to leave my family behind—my sisters, my brother, my mom. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I still remember the look in their eyes after I returned to Chicago… it was like the war was tearing us apart.”
She pauses, swallowing hard, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I used to think I could have both, you know? That I could keep them close, even from a distance. But… it doesn’t work that way. Not in this life. Sometimes, love means making impossible choices. It means sacrifice. And sometimes, I wonder if I made the right one.”
Her words hang in the air between us, heavy and filled with the weight of a thousand unspoken regrets. I feel the tension in her grip, the way her fingers tighten around mine as if she’s afraid I might slip away, too. I squeeze back, letting her know I’m still here, still with her, even in the midst of my own pain.
The room is silent for a moment, filled only with the quiet sounds of our breaths and the distant noise of the city outside. I feel my own pain mixing with theirs, a tapestry of loss and longing that connects us in ways we never fully realized until now.
Valentina turns the music on the soundtrack up slightly, the soft notes of the mournful tune fill the air, like an echo of sadness we all feel. “We all have our losses,” she says quietly. “Our sacrifices. But we’re still here, Allie. We’re still here, and we have each other. That’s something. The pain is still fresh, but time will dull it. I won’t lie to you and tell you that it will make you forget, or it’ll make it any easier, but it will dull it.”
I nod, my tears blurring my vision, but I feel a strange warmth blooming in my chest, a tiny spark of light in the midst of all this darkness. They’re right. We’re still here, and we still have each other. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe, for now, that’s enough.
We start to move, slowly at first, our bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music. It’s not dancing, not really, just a way to feel something other than pain, a way to remember that we’re alive, that we’re still here, still breathing.
But then, the lights flicker. Once, twice, and then everything goes dark.
I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat, my breath catching in my chest. “What… what’s happening?” I whisper, gripping Valentina’s arm, my fingers digging into her skin.
“I don’t know,” she replies, her voice tight with fear. “Stay close. Don’t move.”
The sound of footsteps, heavy and fast, echoe from the hallway outside. There’s a shuffle, the sound of a low voice muttering something I can’t quite make out. I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up, a shiver running down my spine. Then a thud, and another thud follows shortly after.
Mara fumbles with her phone, turning on the flashlight, the beam of light cutting through the darkness, casting long, twisted shadows on the walls. Valentina follows suit, and we all huddle together, our breaths shallow, our hearts pounding. I fumble with my own phone, trying to call Romiro, but it’s too late.
The door bursts open with a deafening crash, splinters flying through the air. I see the silhouette against the doorway, tall and menacing, and I barely have time to react before something hard slams into the side of my head.
The pain is instant, a blinding flash of white that makes the world tilt and spin. I hear someone scream—maybe it’s me, I don’t know—and then the ground rushes up to meet me, and everything goes black.
29
ROMIRO
The bourbon burns as it slides down my throat, a welcome distraction from the gnawing sense of dread creeping through me. I’m sitting in Emiliano’s apartment, the room dimly lit and heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and spilled whiskey. Emiliano, seated across from me, swirls his glass of dark liquor, his brow furrowed in concentration.
We’ve been talking in circles for the past hour, dissecting every detail of the attack on the Camorra, the hit that took Alessia’s Nonna. It’s all we can think about, even with the liquor coursing through our veins, dulling the edges of our anger and grief.
Emiliano’s voice cuts through the silence. "I'm glad Mara and Valentina decided to check on Alessia. She shouldn’t be alone right now."
I nod, thinking of Alessia. Her fiery red hair and the fierce way she holds herself despite everything. The way she looked at me with determination on Sunday, even as her world crumbled around her. I should have stayed with her, should have insisted. But she’s strong. Stronger than I give her credit for.
I down the rest of my drink and slam the glass onto the table. “This attack was a warning,” I mutter. “And I’m sure it was the fucking Outfit.”
Emiliano pulls out his phone and frowns. "I’ll text one of Valentina's bodyguards—just to make sure everything’s good."
We wait, the seconds stretching into minutes. Emiliano's frown deepens when no response comes. "That’s odd."
“Try another,” I suggest, tension coiling in my voice. “And then the other guards.”
Emiliano does, but the silence from the other end is deafening. My heart starts to pound, an uneasy feeling settles in my stomach.They wouldn’t dare...would they? They would.Another minute passes. No answer.
I grab my phone. “I’m calling Alessia.” Eli tries Valentina and Mara, but neither of us gets answer from them.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, rising to my feet. The room feels too small, the air too thick. “We need to get over there. Now.”
