Page 71 of Veil of the Past
I feel a sharp pang in my chest, a hollow ache that spreads through my body. I can’t stand this, can’t stand seeing her like this. So lost, so broken. I want to pull her into my arms, hold her close, tell her everything will be okay. But I can’t. Because I don’t know if it will be.
I sit down on the edge of the couch, watching her, waiting for some sign, some flicker of life. But she just sits there, staring out the window, her hands limp in her lap. I feel my heart breaking all over again, the guilt, the shame, clawing at my insides.
I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment, trying to steady myself. “I’m so sorry, Alessia,” I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath. “I’m so damn sorry.”
She doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. A tear rolls down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away, hating the weakness, the helplessness I feel. I should have been there. I should have protected her. But I wasn’t. And now she’s paying the price.
I stand up, pacing the room again, my mind racing, trying to find a way to make this right. But there’s nothing. No words, no actions, nothing that can undo what’s been done. I feel like I’m drowning, like I can’t breathe, the guilt weighing me down like a lead weight.
I glance back at her, my heart aching at the sight of her, so still, so quiet. I need to do something, anything, to break through, to reach her. But I don’t know how.
I walk back over, kneeling down in front of her again, taking her hands in mine. They’re cold, so cold, and I rub them gently, trying to bring some warmth back into them. “Alessia,” I say softly, my voice trembling. “I need you to come back to me. Please.”
Her eyes flicker again, just for a moment, and I feel a surge of hope, a small spark of light in the darkness. “I’m here,” she whispers, her voice so soft I almost don’t hear it.
I nod, swallowing hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “I know,” I reply, squeezing her hands gently. “But I need you to come back all the way. I need you to eat, to talk to me, to let me help you.”
She looks away, her eyes filling with tears, and my heart breaks all over again. “I’m trying,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “But I don’t know how.”
I feel a lump forming in my throat, and I nod, pulling her hands to my lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “It’s okay,” I say, my voice barely more than a breath. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.”
She nods slowly, her eyes still filled with tears, and I feel a small flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, we can get through this. Maybe we can find our way back.
I sit with her, holding her hands, letting the silence stretch between us, not needing to fill it with words. Just being here, with her, is enough. For now.
The day drags on, the rain continuing to fall outside, a steady rhythm against the window. I keep trying to get her to eat, to drink, to do something, but it’s like pulling teeth. She’s so far away, so distant.
But I can’t give up. I won’t. I promised her I’d be here, that I’d take care of her, and I intend to keep that promise.
As the afternoon turns into evening, I make us some tea, bringing the cups over to where she’s sitting. “Here,” I say, holding out a cup to her. “It’s warm. It’ll help.”
She takes the cup slowly, her fingers brushing against mine, and I feel a small spark of warmth in my chest. She takes a sip, her eyes closing for a moment, and I feel a surge of relief. It’s not much, but it’s something. A step in the right direction.
We sit in silence, sipping our tea, the rain still falling outside. The room grows darker as the sun sets. I keep stealing glances at her, watching for any sign, any flicker of life. And slowly, slowly, I see it. A small smile, a soft sigh, a whisper of a laugh.
It’s not much, but it’s enough. Enough to give me hope, enough to keep me going.
I reach out, taking her hand again, squeezing it gently. “We’ll get through this,” I whisper, my voice filled with determination. “I promise.”
She nods, her eyes meeting mine, and for the first time in days, I see a spark of the woman I fell in love with. And it’s enough to keep me going, to keep fighting, to keep hoping.
We sit together in the fading light, holding onto each other, holding onto hope. And I know, somehow, we’ll find our way back. Together.
* * *
I step into the basement,looking at Helen in the corner. Her head is bowed, but she looks wild.Mariano and the boys have beeninterrogatingher for the past couple of hours.
“Helen.” Her head snaps up when I call her name, her face twisting into a vicious snarl, but she winces. Her eye is swollen, lip bleeding, and she looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks.
“You useless bastard. I should’ve aborted you long before you were able to grow into whatever monster you are.”
Ignoring her, I ask, “Where are the other men that helped you?” She looks out of it, one of the guys must have given her something to make her more compliant, and a junkie like her would never turn down an offer of getting high.
“You killed the…” she trails off like she can’t find the words. “You killed them all,” she says, slurring her words a bit.
“Bullshit!” I spit out.
Helen shakes her head. “The Outfit didn’t agree to give me more men than the ones you killed.” The fucking Outfit. I slam the door behind me, taking the stairs two at a time. I barge into Eli’s office, and he side-eyes me. His laptop is open, and I realize he’s on a call with Nicolo.
