She Pays.

{EDMONDO'S POV}

[Continuation]

*

*

The screams are still there, echoing in my head. They didn’t stop in the car, and they’re not stopping now. Images of the mountains, broken bodies, and chaos cling to me like smoke I can’t shake off.

As we get closer to the estate, I see a figure. Similar to my father's. Standing there like some marble statue carved from pure disdain and disappointment.

I step out of the car, my body heavy and my mind running on fumes. But his gaze hits me before his voice does.

“Edmondo,” he says, low but sharp. “What are you doing? What have you done?”

I say nothing.

My jaw tightens as I brush past him.

“Non pensare di potertene andare!” (Don’t think you can just leave!) His hand clips the back of my head... not hard, not enough to hurt. But just about enough to spark the fury simmering beneath my skin.

I stop. Turn slowly.

“You know,” I say, my voice icy and deliberate, “potrei farti finire in galera per questo.” (I could get you sent to jail for this.)

His eyes narrow, the meaning of my words sinking in. He knows I can. I’m the Don now. The ruler of the North. I decide who lives and who doesn’t. Even if that includes him.

“You’re the Don,” he spits, his tone dripping with venom. “The ruler of everything. So rule it. What’s your plan now, Edmondo? Letting everyone crawl all over your territory? You think you can protect the North and keep this family intact without allies?”

His words dig at me, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a response. I know what he means. 'Allies.' By that, he either means aligning with my power-hungry brothers, marrying some Donna for steady power, or doing business with the forbidden: the Irishmen.

None of those options interest me, and explaining why would be pointless. He doesn’t listen. He never has.

“You listen to me,” he says, stepping closer. “Do whatever you want, but if the people revolt against you, it won’t just be your downfall. It’ll be mine. It’ll be the end of the D’Avi family. And when that happens, Edmondo, you won’t even deserve to call yourself my son.”

The weight of his words hits me, but I bury the reaction deep. Instead, I turn and walk away, my boots crunching against the gravel. Each step was louder than his voice.

“Giovanni,” I say as I pass my brother, “chiudi le porte.” (Lock the gates.)

Giovanni hesitates, glancing between me and our father. After a beat, he nods and pushes the iron gates shut. The clang echoes behind me and that indicates the final note of an unresolved argument.

---

Inside, the estate feels suffocating. The walls seem closer than they should be. I make my way to my room. The anger is boiling just beneath the surface.

As soon as the door shuts behind me, I let it out.

A chair crashes against the wall, the splinters scattering. Papers fly off the desk, floating to the floor like dead leaves. I slam my fist into the wood, the pain in my knuckles sharp but grounding.

The room is chaos, and I stand in the middle of it with my chest heaving and storm raging inside me.

The door creaks open behind me. My hand goes to the knife at my belt, instinct kicking in.

“Who’s there?”

Footsteps. Slow. Measured. Familiar.

“It’s me,” Giovanni says, stepping into the room. He shuts the door quietly and leans against it, arms crossed as he takes in the destruction I just caused. “Feel better?”

I don’t answer.

“You should,” he says, his tone casual. “Because things are about to get worse.”

I turn to him, the anger simmering. “What are you talking about?”

“Mr. La Rosa.”

The name hits like a punch to the gut. My Agata's father.

“What about him?”

Giovanni moves to pick up a chair, setting it upright. “His family is crumbling. Their power’s all but gone. And yet…” He looks up at me, his expression serious. “Somehow, they’ve got an army. Spies. Infiltrators. Someone’s helping them.”

“Who?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. But it’s not the old man. He’s a shell of what he used to be. This isn’t his doing. Also, he has a daughter left. Only child. Cara La Rosa.”

The anger shifts, turning colder. More focused. “Get her.”

Giovanni raises an eyebrow. “Her? You mean…”

“You know who I mean.”

He hesitates, his hand gripping the back of the chair. “And when we do?”

“She pays,” I say, my voice low, steady. “For everything her family has done. For every betrayal her sister, Agata might have executed, every heartache she left.. before she died. She pays.”

Giovanni nods but doesn’t move immediately. “You sure about this? She’s not really a…”

“I don’t care,” I snap. “Bring the damn girl to me.”

He doesn’t argue.

He heads for the door, but I stop him with a quiet word.

“And Giovanni.”

He turns back, waiting.

“Don’t be soft on her,” I say. “She’s the daughter of an enemy now.”

He nods once, disappearing into the hallway.

I stare at the empty doorway, my chest still heaving. The silence presses in, heavier than it should be. Memories creep in to fill the void... of the last time this family faced a revolt from the North people. My grandfather paid the price for his weakness, and my father, barely a teenager then, was forced to take the reins. He swore to never let history repeat itself.

But here we are, on the brink of it all falling apart again. All thanks to my carelessness. I let my heart rule my mind. I turned every fucking girl to a substitute of my white moonlight, Agata La Rosa, treating them the way I wished I had treating Agata.

Even in her death, Agata had a toll over my mind and that's why I couldn't think straight as a Mafia Don no more. I let my people down.

Dawn light filters through the windows, casting long shadows over the chaos I’ve created in this room. I let out a slow breath, my fists clenching at my sides.

“Let your sister come, Agata. She has to. And when she does...” I whisper to myself.

This time, there will be no mercy.