Sweet Prison: Chapter 10

Two months later

“Here.” I hand Nera a glass of water, still holding her hair back with my other hand.

As soon as she returned from visiting Massimo this morning, she went straight into the bathroom. She’s been puking the entire afternoon.

I’m still struggling to wrap my mind around the fact that my sister is pregnant. And that her scumbag of a stalker-turned lover-boy left, disappearing into thin air. If I ever set eyes on the asshole, I’m going to kill him.

“Do you want me to get you some ginger tea?”

“No.” She slowly rises to her feet. “I think I’m good.”

I lower the toilet lid and sit down while she drags herself to the sink and brushes her teeth.

“I thought morning sickness hits only, well, in the morning.”

“I think this is more of a reaction to my conversation with Massimo.”

Hearing his name is like taking a sledgehammer right to the chest.

It’s been almost ten weeks since our father’s funeral. Nera was supposed to meet with Massimo the next day, but when she called the prison to confirm protocol, she was informed that our stepbrother was in solitary confinement and his visitation privileges were revoked for two months. I assume it meant no mail, either, but I’m not certain since I haven’t bothered to write. I didn’t realize just how much writing those letters meant to me until I stopped. But I’m done.

They say words can hurt you worse than any weapon. It’s absolutely true. With three little words, Massimo slashed through my heart, shredding it into a million bleeding pieces. Slicing the silly hope that lay within.

Just you, Nera.

His thoughtless words have wounded me too deeply, and I can’t seem to get them out of my head. Like a never-ending nightmare, they fester in my restless mind, displacing my former daydreams. My daytime fantasies of our first meeting, how I imagined it would happen between us. His arms would wrap around me in a tight, tight hug. He’d squeeze so hard, I wouldn’t be able to breathe.

God, I’m so stupid! All I can tell myself is, As if. I’d laugh at my foolish ass if I wasn’t hurting so much. But what makes this whole thing infinitely worse? I still dream about him. Only now, I have an actual face that haunts me in my sleep. Every night, it’s him and me, surrounded by people dressed in black. And then, there’s that brief, light touch of his fingers on my cheek. Even held captive by the sandman, I can still feel it like a physical caress. My dumb, dumb heart just doesn’t want to let it go.

Doesn’t want to let him go.

Massimo.

“What did he say?” I ask.

Nera looks up and our gazes meet in the mirror. “He wants me to marry Batista Leone.”

I stare at my sister in shock. “What?”

“As it happens, all those years, our father was just Massimo’s puppet. It’s our stepbrother who’s been controlling the Family. He called all the shots even before he got locked up. And he intends to keep doing so until he gets released and takes over officially. If I’m married to Leone, it ensures he keeps holding the reins of the Family.”

“That’s… insane,” I choke out. “You can’t marry that old pig.”

“I have to. It’s the only way to keep my baby safe.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Leone is the one who ordered the hit on our dad.”

My jaw hits the floor. The filthy bootlicker who followed Dad everywhere like a fucking pup? “I… Are you sure?”

“Yes. And Leone won’t hesitate to kill my child if he thinks the baby’s existence will pose a threat to him.”

“And Massimo wants you to marry the asshole?!”

Nera grips the edge of the sink and drops her head. “Yes. And convince Leone to claim the baby as his. Massimo has some serious dirt on that bastard and he’ll use it to keep Leone in check, turning him into nothing but a figurehead. Just like Dad. And I’ll be there to ensure everything goes smoothly.”

“No!” I spring off the toilet and grab her hand. “You can’t do this. You can’t. We… We’ll run away.”

A sad smile tugs at the corners of my sister’s lips. “I told Massimo the same thing.” She wraps her arms around me, pulling me into her embrace. “But Leone will track us down. I can’t risk my baby’s life, Zara. I’d rather trade the next four years of my own in exchange for his or her safety. Massimo and I made a deal. I’ll marry Leone and do our stepbrother’s bidding. And once Massimo is out, he’ll let me walk away and cut all ties with the Family.”

I bite my tongue so I won’t scream at her. How could she be so naive? Massimo will never let her go. He’ll just find another role for her and the kid that suits his needs.

“Alright,” I mumble into her hair. “We will make it work. And Massimo will keep his promise.”

I’ll find a way to hold him to it.

Anger roils through my veins as the guard escorts me down the hall, toward the visitation room. I thought my orders yesterday were clear—one visit per week. Yet, my stepsister has dared to come today, too.

The heavy metal door opens with a hollow squealing sound, revealing a woman seated at the table in the middle of the room with her back to me.

Glancing at the guard beside me, I give him a look that tells him to kill the camera. His subtle nod makes it clear that he’s understood. Before he even leaves, the red light in the corner dies.

The instant that door shuts behind him, my self-control snaps.

“What the fuck is this, Nera?”

My stepsister rises and slowly turns around. But it’s not Nera.

It’s Zahara.

The fury within me morphs into terror. As I cross the charged expanse between us, the clang of the chains attached to the cuffs on my hands and feet fills the room. The sound reminds me of a funeral march. Hers.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper.

“I heard about the deal you made with my sister.” Honey-brown eyes meet mine, and I find myself struggling to breathe. “And I came to make certain you’ll keep your word.”

For a moment, I can’t even remember what deal she’s talking about, too stunned by her being here, right in front of me. Talking to me. It’s the first time I’ve heard her voice. So soft. Like a fuzzy blanket. I don’t sleep much, and I rarely dream. But I have no doubt her melodic voice will echo through my dreams tonight. Maybe the nocturnal siren will read one of her letters to me. Bobbins, and stitches, and seams… I’ll gladly spend my somnolent hours listening to nothing more than sewing terms. As long as Zahara speaks them.

“Will you? Keep your word?” Her tone is gentle. But the look in her hypnotic eyes is unyielding.

“Why do you think I wouldn’t?” I rasp.

“Because I know you, Massimo. The instant you’re out, you’ll dispose of Leone and use Nera as a bargaining chip. You’ll make her marry one of your prospective business partners, or, perhaps, someone in another crime organization. Marriage within our Family will be out of the question. Especially if her child is a boy.”

I blink, at a loss for words. I was considering using Nera to strengthen my ties with Kiril. Why am I surprised Zahara figured me out? She’s smart. She knows me. Which places her in even greater danger.

“Whatever my future plans are, they are none of your business. Not anymore.” I bend to bring my eyes level with hers. “You’re out, Zahara.”

“It is my business if it involves my sister.” She tilts her chin up. “I’m well aware that I was nothing more than a convenient tool to you. One that you used to further your purposes and now have discarded like a piece of trash. But I will not hang back and watch as you do the same to Nera.”

My body shakes with barely suppressed rage. Can’t she understand that I have to push her away to keep her safe?

I lift my bound hands and seize her chin between my fingers. For years, I’ve trudged through spilled blood without a second thought, not giving a fuck about anything or anyone. People were nothing but obstacles or pawns. My stepsisters included.

But now, as I stare into Zahara’s eyes, I can barely breathe for the myriad of unexpected feelings overwhelming me. Shame and guilt for ruthlessly using her all these years. Horror that my actions may have painted a target on her back. I spent the last two months thinking about her. Day and night. From the moment our gazes met at Nuncio’s funeral, the only thing I’ve been able to fully focus on is her.

“Nera is your family, and you’re throwing her to the wolves!” she continues. “Is there a person in this world that you actually give a fuck about?”

“Just one.”

Zahara’s eyes widen. She sucks in a breath, keeping her gaze glued to mine. A minute passes. I stand stock-still, my face mere inches from hers, marveling at the peace that has once again suffused every fiber of my being.

I’ve always been a volatile person, and that trait has intensified a hundredfold in prison. My violent outbursts have ensured I spend large stretches of my sentence in solitary. I’m angry. Constantly on alert. Ready to lash out for the tiniest little reason. But now, with her next to me, I just want to close my eyes and enjoy this unexpected bliss.

She’s like a bandage over a bleeding wound. A remedy for my madness.

My gaze wanders to her mouth, and my thumb slides up of its own volition, caressing her lower lip. All I need is to lean forward just a little and—

Fuck!

Stepping back, I let go of her face. I must have finally lost my fucking mind in this dump—there is no other explanation.

“You need to leave, Zahara.”

“No. I’m not moving from this spot until you guarantee me that you’ll keep your promise to Nera. The minute you take over as the don, she and her child are free to walk away.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because if this ploy with Leone goes ahead, you’ll still need me. I’ll continue being your eyes and ears without anyone ever knowing. Even my sister.”

She’s right. I need her, but not in the way she believes. Without Zahara, I’m certain there won’t be anything left of me.

“Absolutely not,” I growl. “It’s too dangerous.”

“If your plan fails, the danger will be even greater. Nera and I will end up in Leone’s hands for good. He already planned to marry Nera off into the Albanian faction. I’ll probably meet the same fate.”

“I will not put you in harm’s way, Zahara.”

“You had no problem doing it before.”

“Before was different. Even if someone caught you going through Nuncio’s shit, your dad would never have hurt you. Still, I have regrets. Something else I’ll need to live with. But this time, you’d be in the middle of a rabid wolf’s den.”

“But you’re okay with sending Nera in?” She stands straighter, her chin lifting. “My sister and I are a package deal. I’ll help you see this through to the end, and you’ll set Nera free. If you refuse, I’ll convince her to run. We’ll take our chances on our own.”

“Leone will kill you both when he finds you. And trust me, he will find you.”

“Maybe. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

I watch her, standing before me looking so innocent and young. In her alluring silk blouse with her luscious locks tumbling down her back, she reminds me of one of those delicate porcelain dolls my mother had around. She seems fragile, but there isn’t even a trace of softness in her steely expression. Only determination and resolve.

Fear explodes in my stomach. She truly means it. If I say no, they will both run, and Leone will chase them. And there’s no way I could save her while I’m locked up in this hellhole.

“I swear on Mom’s memory, Massimo. We will run.”

She’ll do it. Accept her terms.

No!

Then you’ve just signed her death sentence.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “You won’t place yourself in even the slightest peril. No calls. No more visits. Only letters.”

“Fine,” she says, tugging down the cuff of her sleeve. “How are you going to make Leone accept the idea of marriage to Nera?”

“Salvo will come see her tomorrow, and he will bring her some documents. It’s all she’ll need. Leone will agree to everything.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes.”

Zahara nods.

“You are not as I imagined you, you know?” I admit. At her questioning look, I add, “No pigtails.”

A tiny smile pulls at her lips as her gaze moves up to the top of my freshly shaved head. “You’re not as I imagined you, either. No hair.”

I chuckle. The sound seems strange. There aren’t many things that have made me laugh in the past decade and a half.

“Promise me you will be careful,” I whisper. “Please.”

“I will.”

Charily, I bow my head. “Make sure Peppe comes with you when you move to Leone’s. Keep him close.”

Her eyebrow arches. “He’s one of yours, then?”

“Yes. If things go south, he’ll know what to do.”

She doesn’t argue, doesn’t question. We just stand there as I drink her in. Yesterday, Nera told me that Zahara has vitiligo. That’s what the skin discoloration on her face is. I’d never heard of the condition before, so I grabbed the phone from Sam to google it, needing to know if it’s causing her pain or other ill effects. It doesn’t, which is a relief. I can’t handle the idea of anything hurting Zahara.

Jesus fuck, I can’t believe I placed her into a position where she needed to take so many risks for me. Because of my selfish plans. And she’ll be doing it again. But this time, the stakes are much, much higher.

I let the image of her etch itself on my mind because I know it’ll be years before I’ll see her. Seconds, then minutes pass while we stare at each other in silence, surrounded by the dull gray of cold confinement.

“You should go now,” I make myself say.

“Okay.” She breaks our locked stare and pivots toward the door, her eyes slowly casting downward.

As she passes me, our arms brush against each other. Without thinking, I reach out and take her hand.

Zahara’s sharp intake of breath echoes through the room. She stops. We stand next to each other at the center of the gloomy space—she is facing the door, and I’m staring at the wall on the opposite side. I can feel her heartbeat where the heel of my palm is pressed to the pulse point on her wrist.

“Don’t get killed,” I whisper.

“Don’t kill anyone else,” she whispers back. “At least, not in front of witnesses.”

A small smile twists my lips. I stroke her wrist one last time and reluctantly let her hand slip out of mine.

Her heels tap on the hard concrete floor.

Walking away.

Taking that peaceful serenity with her.