Chapter 162: Sergio Was Just A Pawn

SANCIA

I shake my head in denial as Lorenzo’s words echo in my head. There was no way Papa had cancer, and I didn’t know about it. It’s just not possible, but then memories flooded me of the last couple of times I’d seen Papa.

I know at the time he’d lost so much weight, and I thought he was probably sick, but then I gave up the thought when Papa himself denied it.

Memories flooded me from the last time I'd seen my father. I remember when he called me before his birthday, he'd sounded so weird that day, and suddenly everyone made sense.

“Oh my god,” I choke, hot tears blurring my eyes as they race down my cheeks. My knees gave way under me, and I slumped on the couch. I dropped my head into my hands as grief threatened to swallow me whole.

Lorenzo drops before me. He wraps his hands around me, gathering me into his chest, whispering words of comfort, and I soak it all up, clutching his shirt and sobbing wretchedly into his chest until my tears dried up and I realized what I was doing.

I uncurl my fingers from his now-wet shirt and embarrassingly move back, wiping my tears with the heels of my palms. Something he’d said suddenly came back to me, and rage swelled inside me.

“Papa told you about his sickness days before his death, and you still shot him?” I snarled, shoving him back on his ass, hitting him.

I don’t care that he didn’t kill Papa; the point was that he knew about his illness and still shot him.

The asshole just grabbed my hand and flipped us around until I was beneath him, with both my hands trapped in his one hand above my head.

“He was protecting Sergio,” he growled. “He was my target.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I yelled, bucking beneath him. “You tried to kill my brother, Lorenzo. I know Sergio. He’s not the fucking monster you’re trying to make him out to be; he would never attack….”

“He’s a made man, Sancia, a killer!” he yelled, cutting through my hysteria. “He would, and he did attack my club and kill Fabio.”

“No,” I whispered, but there was no conviction in my denial. “Sergio wasn’t….” I swallowed. “He couldn’t, wouldn’t start a war, just like that; he’s not…”

“You’re right. Sergio was just a pawn,” he said. “The mastermind is someone else.”

“What? Who?” I frowned. “What do you mean?”

Lorenzo's face softened as he shoved away from me, then he helped me up. He dragged me to the couch, both of us sitting down, his hand holding my hand like I needed anchoring, like what he was about to divulge had the potential to break me.

“I needed you to listen to me objectively and think about what I’m going to say.”

I nodded, although I’m not sure if I could do that. I just want all the confusion about that day to clear and for me to understand where everything went wrong.

“Someone killed Romero, then instigated Sergio into attacking my club and killing Fabio, laying a trap for me.” Lorenzo paused, his eyes dark with that familiar rage I’d seen three years ago.

“When I went to see Carmello, I fell into that trap. I already knew I had a traitor in my famiglia, and I suspect whoever they were, they were working with someone from your famiglia, but I had no idea who.”

His hand tightened around mine before it loosened. “By the time I realized who was the one working behind the scenes, it was already too late. His men started attacking my men from outside, which started the war.

When I left Carmello, he was alive. Marcello was tending to the gunshot on his arm where my bullet caught him when he got between Sergio and me.”

“Who would do such a thing and why?” I asked, confused. “And for what purpose?”

“Who else other than your ex, Antonio, and why do most men wage wars, for power and love?”

I was too stunned to move or speak, but when I finally got control over the shock, I jumped back on my feet, shaking my head, even as a deep, unsettling feeling hit my insides.

“That’s preposterous. Antonio would never do something so atrocious. He’s Papa’s enforcer; he’s also engaged to Isabella. What you’re saying doesn’t make sense,” I denied, shaking my head.

Lorenzo's eyes darkened, his jaw gritted so hard, but his voice was calm. “I won’t deny that I hate the fucker,” he replied calmly.

“But everyone knows right now Antonio and his father Marcello are the ones calling the shots in your father’s famiglia; Sergio is just a pawn,” he explained, “At worst, he’s just a puppet being manipulated by the father and son duo.”

Rage and pain so sharp hit me straight in the gut, but underneath it all was hate so strong it was almost choking me, because if, just if what he says is the truth, then I don’t even know what to do.

“Admit you’re making this up because you hate him,” I snarled, even as the truth of his words gradually settled deep inside me.

Because to think otherwise is just too painful- the betrayal of Papa’s trust, and to my entire family, was just too devastating for me to take right now.

His voice drops, his face softens. “Oh, Sancia, trust me, I didn’t make any of this up, and I won’t try to convince you. I would let you find out the truth for yourself.”

It was as though he could feel the devastation inside me. Lorenzo enfolded me into his arms, and for a long moment we just stayed like that, and then the waterworks started, slow and silent at first until it morphed into a full-blown sob.

The kind that purges, cleanses, and repurposes you into steel, I wept from anger, from the pain of betrayal, and then hate so strong it shocked even me. When I finally quieted down, I was exhausted.

Diavolo gathered me into his arms, carrying me before he started up the stairs. He pushed my bedroom door open, walked the short distance, and placed me on the bed. I sighed as my back hit the mattress. He dragged the blanket over my legs, then sat beside me.

“Go to bed, Mia tigre; tomorrow we’ll talk more.”

I find myself whispering, “Stay.” he arched his dark brow, making my face instantly flame despite the grim situation. “Or go whatever,” I quickly added, and turned my back on him. A second later, I heard the door shut, and I swallowed a lump I refuse to identify.

I yelped when the bed suddenly dipped with his weight, and he lay behind me, molding his body perfectly against mine. His hand wound around my stomach as he dragged me even closer.

“I’ll never pass up the opportunity to be closer to you, mia tigre,” he whispered, kissing my hair. “I have so many things to make up for, not just to you but to our son.”

Butterflies took flight in my stomach. Instead of saying anything, I just shut my eyes and sighed. For a while, there was just comfortable silence, which was both hopeful and peaceful, but then I saw Papa’s body riddled with bullets in my mind’s eye, and my eyes sprang open.

I turn around, putting my head on Diavolo’s chest. Without a word, he drags me entirely flat over his chest. I gasp as I feel his hard cock poking at me. I rolled my eyes, “Really? How can you be hard at this moment?”

Diavolo chuckled. “You’re to blame for this,” he murmured, “My body is never mine when you’re near me, Sancia.”

He shamelessly pressed me down while he ground upward. I slap his chest, “Stop it, you’re such a dog.”

He chuckled, but did as I said; we settled into that comfortable silence. This one is much lighter.

We stayed like that for a while before his voice cut through the silence. “You asleep yet?” I shake my head.

“I’m going to kill him,” I whispered, “I’m going to kill Antonio, and you’re not going to stop me.”

Lorenzo’s hands tightened around me. “I wouldn't dare; just let me be the one to bring him to you.” My heart hammered with those words.

“Sergio and Isabella are my family; they’re my siblings. Promise me you won’t hurt them,” I pleaded. “They were just pawns used by Antonio and his father.”

“How did you know about Isabella?” he asked, although he didn’t sound surprised.

“I’ve always found it suspicious that she left the safe room while Mama and the others were hiding in there. Now it all made sense that Antonio was just using her; whether she knew about him killing our family or not is something I will have to figure out.”

“As expected, my Sancia is smart.”

“You’re stalling. Promise me, you won’t hurt them.”

“I promise I won’t kill them as long as they don’t hurt you, our son, or get in my way, but if they do, all bets are off,” he gritted, that edge of darkness slipping through. It was so him. I’d be worried if he didn’t have conditions.

At least he’d made a concession; now it’s my job to make sure my family is safe.