Inferno (Blood for Blood #2) (15 page)

‘No,’ I spat. ‘Stop!’ I was tired of being swayed this way and that by people with corrupt morals and pretty words. I was tired of hearing people out, of giving the benefit of the doubt only to have it thrown back in my face. This was not what I had come here for, to be leered at by Donata and her cronies, to be lied to by my uncle, to be terrified by the idea that I was tied to him, that someone like him was my anchor.

I turned from him, scanning the exit. Sara was looking at me. The man with the sharp grin was still hovering close by, watching her now. A shiver of unease shot up my spine. She dipped her head and smiled sympathetically. Did she have an overprotective uncle too? Had she been forced into this life
the same way the Falcones were raised to be one thing and one thing only? Was she as ashamed of her family as I was? We were the same age, more or less. But she was here now, stuck, and I was determined not to be.

Jack stepped between us and brought his face close to mine. Our eyes – the same eyes – bored into one another. ‘Sophie, we’re family, you and I, and I want you by my side, where I know you’ll be safe. It’s where you belong.’

I blanched. ‘I have a mother,’ I snapped. ‘A mother you almost got killed, and believe me, I’m not about to forget it.’ Anger mounted, rushing and sizzling inside me. ‘I came here to hear you out, but it was a mistake. I’m glad you’re safe. I’m glad my father doesn’t have to grieve for his little brother in prison, but I don’t want anything to do with you. Not now, not ever. I’m saying goodbye.
For good
.’

I stepped back, but he stepped with me. His cheeks had flushed a rosy hue. ‘Sophie,’ he said, surprisingly gentle, yet intimidating. He was teetering on the edge of something, his eyes flicking from side to side, to Donata, to his cronies. ‘There is no way out now.’

I lifted my chin, steel staring into steel. ‘There is for me, Jack. You might have forged your allegiance,’ I gestured pointedly to Donata, then swirled my hand around, encompassing the club, its hedonism and all the wrongness, ‘but I stand with my mother, and
only her
.’

A veil of anger snapped Jack’s features back into place. ‘
Only her
?’ he asked, his eyes slitting. ‘And what about the Falcones?’ He spat the word.

There was an Italian curse from somewhere over his shoulder. Donata.

‘I have nothing to do with the Falcones,’ I insisted.

Jack arched an eyebrow. ‘I was in that warehouse, Sophie. You’re the key to their undoing; you’re the answer to my freedom. And with the Marinos, we’ll be able to do it.’ His voice climbed in pitch and his eyes were manic, darting. ‘We’ll finally be able to rid Chicago of this festering wound of self-righteous fools. Mark them for every mark they put on you. We’ll hang Valentino in his chair. We’ll drown Felice in his own honey. We’ll take Luca Falcone’s head from his body.’

My stomach seized up and I clasped my hand over my mouth. So he
wanted
the war. He was orchestrating it.

I swirled around, scanning the numbers – the sheer amount of Marino family milling around us. They mightn’t have been ready before, when the truce had come down, but they were ready now. Were the missing Marino twins here, too? Baying for revenge, all of them united in hatred?

Donata was laughing – it was a high-pitched screech of pleasure. I hated her. I hated her. I hated her. And I felt sick, so sick I couldn’t stand another minute in their presence.

‘I’m leaving.’ I turned. ‘This was a mistake.’

I pushed by the bouncer and marched on to the main floor. But I was stopped again, this time by Sara. I almost crashed into her. She raised her hands. ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Please.’

‘I thought he cared about me, but he doesn’t. I’m just a pawn.’ I stifled the urge to cry, swallowing hard against the rising lump in my throat. ‘I want to go home, Sara.’

‘I know,’ she said, tugging me to the side so all those hovering behind us couldn’t overhear our conversation. Even Razor Grin was out of earshot, and he wasn’t happy about it. ‘But
this isn’t the way to make it happen. She won’t let you leave if she thinks you won’t even contemplate helping her.’

I glanced over my shoulder. Donata was poised on the edge of her dance floor, watching us. ‘What would you have me do, then?’

Sara’s sigh hung in the air. ‘Just agree to whatever she wants.’

‘Are you crazy?’

She edged closer so even her fuchsia lips couldn’t be read when she spoke. ‘I’m not telling you to tell the truth, just say you’ll think about it or whatever. My mother doesn’t like the word “no”. You’re not going to walk out of here smiling if you don’t at least pretend to give her the respect she thinks she deserves.’

‘Why are you helping me?’

She dropped her gaze and when she spoke again she was just a little girl in a thrumming, glitzy club where she didn’t belong. And it hit me so clearly in that moment that I felt an intrusive and weird urge to hug her. ‘Because I was you, Sophie,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder. ‘I wanted to study music, to see the world, to hang out with my friends, to do
good
things and be a good person. I still
am
you in a lot of ways, so I get it. There’s this blood in us – people who think they can speak for us.’ She started tearing her fingernails along her arms like she could scratch it all out of her if she tried hard enough. I grabbed her hands and pushed them away from her arms, to make her stop. They fell limp at her sides. ‘You’re lucky. There’s another life for you. You’ve just got to be smart enough to hold on to it, to get back to it. And that means maybe you need to play the game—’

I was wrenched away from the girl with the kind heart and the big dreams. Five spindly fingers clasped around my wrist, long red nails digging into my skin like talons. I was twirled around until Donata’s face was inches from my own and Sara’s was lost somewhere in the crowd behind me. Donata’s lips had twitched into what I supposed was her attempt at a smile. ‘You and I aren’t done.’

Her heavy-lidded gaze was steady on mine and I felt suffocated by it. Despite Sara’s gentle presence, the friendly way she spoke, her unassuming nature,
this
was the real Marino family and I couldn’t pretend to like them.

Jack was hovering behind Donata. His face had twisted and for the first time, he seemed uncomfortable. Still, he let her hold me like that, digging her nails into my skin until I felt her draw blood.

Donata threw her head back. ‘Antony,’ she called, bird-like in pitch. ‘Antony, it’s time!’ I watched the faces behind her, their eyes snapping to the back of her head, but whoever Antony was – her son? A would-be torturer à la Calvino Falcone? – he was either too scared to answer her call, or maybe he wasn’t there at all. ‘Marco! Libero!’ she called, but still, no one came to her aid. The music was too loud.

I kept my voice steady. ‘I can’t do anything for you right now. I have a pounding headache and I need to go home. Let me come back another day,’ I added, taking Sara’s advice.

Behind us, the singer was crying her way through a nineties pop song.

Donata Marino rounded on me. ‘You can go when you’ve agreed to help us,’ she snapped.

Jack stepped closer to me, around the side of her, keeping
his distance, like she was radioactive. ‘Donata,’ he warned. ‘You’re scaring her.’

She rolled her eyes, but he had managed to shut her up. He softened his voice, peppering it with gentle force as if to make up for Donata’s aggression. ‘There’s something of mine in the diner, Soph, but the Falcones are watching the place night and day. It’s too dangerous for us to go in. But not for you. You can help secure it. You can sneak in unharmed, and bring it to us.’

‘Get it yourself.’ The words were out of my mouth before the meaning of what he had said dropped into my stomach.

‘There’s a safe,’ Jack cut in. ‘And we—’

‘No,’ I hissed. ‘No way.’

I really could have laughed right then. How insane did they think I was? They were both staring at me, waiting for me to change my answer. My head was so heavy. Suddenly it felt like the whole club had tripled in capacity. The dance floor behind me was filling up. People were starting to jostle against my back. The singer was screaming her next verse.

I could make out Millie through the crowds, fighting towards me. ‘We should go,’ she shouted, pushing her way closer. ‘Something’s going on.’

Jack was there in a flash, blocking my immediate exit. ‘Sophie, I know it’s not an ideal situation but there’s a lot of money at stake. If we could just sit down and talk about all of this … Your dad would want me to help you. He would want me to keep you safe.’

‘You’re the one putting me in danger.’ I stumbled backwards, into the crowds. They were closing in, stifling me.

Something struck me in the back and I crashed nose first
into my uncle’s chest. Razor Grin and Eric Cain were at his sides, shouting, pulling him away from me. But Jack was fighting them. He was shouting too, his face turning crimson with fresh rage. ‘How could you betray me? How could you do this to us?’ It took me an extra second to realize it was me he was yelling at. But I hadn’t done anything. I faltered backwards, away from his huddle, sinking into a scrap of shoving bodies.

I could hear Millie screaming, but there were other people shouting too – male voices. Voices I recognized. I was pulled backwards. Bodies pressed against me. I fell against someone, thumping the back of my head. A shoe clipped my ankle and I lost my footing, my heels giving way beneath me.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. I landed with a thump that knocked the wind out of my lungs, and then Nic appeared, circling above me. He lunged at Eric Cain, who was a flash of darting red hair and pale skin. Nic grabbed him by the throat and yanked him downwards, cracking his knee straight into his face. I could almost hear Eric’s nose smash into pieces as he crumpled to the ground. Nic hurled his foot into his back, the force of the kick bending his body like an S. He slammed into him again and Eric’s slim frame contorted and writhed out of view. He pulled his knife out. Vaguely stunned and winded, I thought,
I am about to witness Nic murdering someone
.

Jack sprang up, and Nic’s attention snapped in two. He arced to the left and disappeared into a sea of faceless people, chasing my uncle. Felice Falcone’s voice rang in my ears. He was somewhere close by, yelling instructions, calm against the storm. I scrabbled on the floor, my heels sliding as I tried to get up. Someone was brandishing a gun above
me and I dipped backwards, cowering on the ground.

The crowds swelled until there was nothing but blackness overhead. I couldn’t see Millie any more, couldn’t find Nic or Jack. I was shouting but no one could hear me; no one was listening. I slid backwards, trying to get to my feet again, but someone knocked me to the ground. There was a rasping voice. Calvino Falcone, with his shiny bald head glinting underneath the lights. He charged over me, nicking my ankle with his shoe. I crawled in his direction, trying to free myself from the sea of limbs that were keeping me down, but he stopped abruptly and stumbled backwards.

I slammed my body to the right and he fell to his knees beside me. I reached out to use his shoulder as an anchor but he was too quick. He sprang up clumsily and threw himself at something. I was shoved backwards again. The blackness overhead enveloped me. Gino darted by, his gun pointed at someone I couldn’t see. Then there was a shape – wide and tall, and careening backwards. Calvino fell on top of me and I was crushed against the floor. I lay winded, trapped and star-fished beneath his limbs.

Someone was screaming my name. I couldn’t see properly. There was red everywhere. It covered the floor. My hands were coated in it. It was dripping around my ears. It stuck between my fingers and matted my hair in clumps. My shoes kept sliding on that thick, warm liquid, my eyes blurring with the sheer volume of it. I was gasping for air but everything smelt strange, like rust and salt, and my mouth tasted like metal. I was gagging as I tried to struggle free from Calvino’s hugeness. Why hadn’t he stood up yet?

And then it hit me. He was dead.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE GETAWAY

I
pushed against Calvino’s lifeless form, trying to shift over six feet of bulky muscle. He rolled off me, landing face down on the ground with a thud. His hand was crushed underneath his body and his legs were sticking out at a strange angle. Blood pooled around us. It was all over my arms and legs, all over him. There were multiple stab wounds in his back.

My stomach lurched and I spewed vodka all over the ground. It mixed with the blood, glistening under the lights. With panic still flooding inside me, I stumbled forward and pulled myself to my feet.

Everyone was scattering. A smudge of faces streaked by me, their expressions contorted in terror. Millie was gone – they all were, Falcones and Marinos and Jack, and I was
alone, steeped in Calvino’s blood. I stumbled towards the stairwell, trying to escape the screams that were ringing in my ears. It took me a while to realize they were coming from me.

I hurtled down the steps, tripping over my heels. When I reached the ground floor, I was swept inside a stampede clamouring for the exit. I called out for Millie but I was stuck inside the swarm and she wasn’t anywhere. I squeezed between shoulders and arms, pushing my way towards the front. If anything happened to her, I’d never forgive myself. I shouldn’t have brought her here – I should never have come. I was a bad friend, the
worst
kind, and the more people that jostled against me, the higher my panic soared.