Chapter 172

Chapter 172
"Enzo!" I screamed, cradling his lifeless head in my lap. Blood soaked through my jeans, warm and sticky against my skin. His face was pale, too pale, and his usually bright hazel eyes stared emptily at the sky above.

"This is so unfair to you," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "You were supposed to live long and enjoy the position you worked so hard for in the family."

I stroked his face, my fingers trembling as they traced the line of his jaw. He felt cold, so cold. This wasn't right. Enzo was always warm, always radiating energy and strength. Even when he was angry, there was always that fire in him, that intensity that made him so alive. Now there was nothing, just an empty shell where Enzo used to be.

Sofia appeared from nowhere, trying to pull me away from him. "Come, Bea. There's nothing you can do for him now." Her voice sounded distant, hollow, as if coming from the end of a long tunnel.

"No!" I clutched him tighter, refusing to let go. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close against my chest as if I could somehow transfer my warmth, my life, back into him. "Wake up, please!" I begged, shaking him gently. "Please, Enzo, wake up!"

For a moment, I thought I saw his finger twitch. Hope surged through me, bright and desperate. "Did you see that? He moved!" I looked up at Sofia, eyes wide with desperate hope.

But Sofia shook her head sadly, her expression grave. "It's just the earth trembling, dear. He's gone."

The ground beneath us began to shake violently, and Enzo's body started to slip from my grasp. I tried to hold on, but it was like trying to hold onto sand—he was slipping away, falling into darkness...

"Beatrice! Beatrice, wake up!"

Someone was shaking me. Not gently like I had shaken Enzo, but roughly, urgently. I gasped, my eyes flying open to find Amelia leaning over me, her face pinched with concern.

"You were screaming," she said, straightening up once she saw I was awake. "Bad dream?"

I nodded, unable to speak. My throat felt raw, as if I'd been screaming for hours. My head throbbed painfully, and I reached up to touch it, wincing as my fingers found a tender spot. The room swam before my eyes, and I had to blink several times to clear my vision.

"Your mother pushed you," Amelia explained, noticing my confusion. "You hit your head on the corner of the table when you fell. You've been out for nearly an hour. I was starting to think we should take you to the hospital."

Reality came crashing back. The fight with Sofia. Her accusations. The slap, the push. Running through the alley. Finding... No. That part must have been the dream. Enzo couldn't be dead in some alley in the Bronx. It wasn't possible. His family would have found him. They would have given him a proper burial, not left him to rot in some forgotten corner of the city.

"Where's Sofia?" I asked, my voice raspy.

"Downstairs," Amelia replied, moving toward the door. "She's been worried sick since you fainted. Pacing back and forth, muttering to herself. I'll tell her you're awake."

As Amelia left, I struggled to sit up, my body protesting every movement. The room spun slightly, and I took deep breaths to steady myself. The dream had felt so real, so vivid. I could still feel the weight of Enzo's head in my lap, the stickiness of his blood on my hands. The emptiness in his eyes haunted me, a stark contrast to the intensity they'd held in life.

A few minutes later, Sofia entered the room. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and she approached the bed cautiously, as if afraid I might bolt. Her hands twisted nervously in front of her, a gesture I'd rarely seen from my usually composed mother.

"I'm sorry," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I don't know what came over me, but I lost control. Seeing you lying there, not moving... I thought—" She broke off, shaking her head.

I didn't respond. What could I say? That it was okay she'd pushed me? That I forgave her for hitting me, for selling me to Ezra? For lying to me my entire life? The words wouldn't come.

Sofia sighed at my silence and took out her phone, sitting by the window as she scrolled through it. The distance between us felt vast, uncrossable. A chasm that had been growing for years, widening with every lie, every manipulation.

I stared at the ceiling, feeling more alone than ever. What I wouldn't give for someone who really understood me, someone I could talk to about everything that was happening. Enzo had been that person, briefly. He'd listened, really listened, without judgment. And now he was gone, because of me.

Now I had to find his body and give him a proper burial. He deserved that much. I couldn't bear the thought of him lying somewhere, abandoned and forgotten, after he had sacrificed so much for me.

"I need to call Dante," I said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Sofia's face softened with something like relief. "See? A small head collision is all it took to make you understand the importance of maintaining contact with him." She dialed a number on her phone and handed it to me with a satisfied smile.

I took the phone from her and walked out of the room, seeking privacy for this conversation.

"Beatrice?" Dante's voice was tense, surprised. "Is that you?"

"Yes," I replied, my heart racing. "I need to ask you something."

"Are you alright? Where are you? Your mother hasn't—"

"I'm fine," I cut him off, not wanting to get into the details of my current situation. "I need to know where Enzo's body is."

There was a long pause, so long I thought we might have lost connection. "Why are you asking about this?" His voice was careful, controlled.

"I need to know he's resting in peace," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "Please, Dante."

Another pause. "Don't worry; everything has been taken care of. He is resting in peace now."

“You have his body?” I asked.

I never heard the rest of his sentence because I suddenly collided with something solid. Or rather, someone solid. Maxwell stood in the hallway, blocking my path, a thin line of drool running down his chin as he stared at me with unblinking eyes.

“What are you doing here?” I gasped, nearly dropping the phone.

“Trice! Who is it?” I heard Dante say something, but my entire focus was on Maxwell.

He was just silently staring at me and drooling.

I stepped aside and sprinted past him to the inside, hanging up on Dante and giving my mom her phone back. All I knew was that I was going to meet Dante if he came into the cafe tomorrow. Enough hiding from him.