His jaw tightened. Hard. The same way Papa's used to. The realization hurt.
"I try." The words came quietly now. Painfully. "I really try."
My chest tightened. Santino remained silent. Watching. Listening. For once not interrupting. Not joking. Not provoking. Just listening.
"I know Leo saved us." The confession sounded dragged out of him. Like it physically hurt. "I know Papa deserved what happened."
My throat burned. Because Papa absolutely deserved it. But that didn't make him less dead. Or less our father. Matteo swallowed. Then finally looked at me. His eyes were glassy.
Not my brother. Not Matteo.
"Every time I see Leo..." His voice cracked. "...I remember Dad."
I couldn't breathe. Because it was unfair. Horribly unfair. Leo had saved us. Protected us. Loved Chiara. Loved our family. But grief wasn't fair. Grief didn't care. It never had. Tears burned unexpectedly behind my eyes.
Matteo looked away again. Embarrassed. Ashamed. Like admitting it somehow made him weak.
"I don't hate Leo." The confession came softly. "I just... I can't live with him anymore."
The words shattered something inside me. Because for the first time, I understood. This wasn't rebellion. This wasn't teenage stupidity. This was pain. The kind nobody knew how to fix. The ballroom remained silent for several long moments.
Then Santino spoke. "You're not becoming a made man."
Matteo froze. The hope disappeared from his face. Crushed. Gone. My heart broke a little. Relief flooded me at the same time. A strange combination. Then Santino continued.
"Not now." Matteo looked up. Confused. So did I. Santino folded his arms. Expression unreadable. Dangerous. Thoughtful. "If you want this life... you earn it."
Something changed in Matteo's eyes. Hope. "Which means no gun. No oath. No blood. You're becoming my apprentice."
Even Santino looked slightly surprised by his own words. Then I found my voice. "Absolutely not."
Santino ignored me. Naturally. I hated him. Profoundly. Matteo looked stunned. "Apprentice?"
Santino nodded once. "You want honor? You want morals? You want to protect people?"
Matteo nodded. Too quickly. Too eagerly. Santino's mouth twitched. The bastard was amused. I could tell. "Then learn how first."
And I realized something terrifying. My little brother looked happier than I'd seen him in years. And Santino Moretti looked like he'd just accidentally adopted him.
Chapter Thirteen: SANTINO
Thecrackofboneagainst bone echoed through the private gym. Matteo hit the mat hard enough to rattle the entire ring. Sweat darkened his black T-shirt. Blood gleamed on his split lip. He grunted, rolled onto one knee, and pushed himself upright.
Good. Most men quit when things hurt. Most men folded the second life stopped being fair. The kid kept getting up. That meant something.
I leaned back against the ropes and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
"Again," I ordered.
Matteo looked like he wanted to kill me. A promising sign.
"You know," he said, breathing hard, "normal people usually start conversations before they try to rearrange someone's face."
I snorted. "Normal people don't survive in our world."
"Comforting,” he muttered.
"Not my job to comfort you,” I added.