Chapter 4 Chapter 3: Poison's A Woman's Weapon

Chiara

If I had a euro for every time my encounter with Rafe came back to me, I'd be the richest lady alive.

I hated that I was still thinking about him.

Well, not him exactly. His words.

I’d gone over that confrontation–or conversation–so many times that I’d started to hate the sound of his voice in my head.

Your sister’s missing.

It kept crawling around in my head like a fucking worm every time I tried to convince myself that Isa was fine.

But the more I thought about everything he’d said, the harder it became to dismiss him.

There was no lie in what he’d told me.

Isa hadn’t come home. She hadn’t called, and apparently, she’d really left the estate alone.

Those were facts.

What wasn’t a fact was everything else Rafe had attached to them.

Someone had taken her. Whoever was behind it knew about Luciano and had deliberately made me believe Rafe was the man behind the mask.

Why? Beats me.

And somehow, my father knew more than he was letting on.

It was convenient. Far too convenient.

Except there was one problem.

Why use Isa?

If he wanted me to marry him, there were easier ways to do it.

He could have gone to my father. He could have exposed what I'd done, and the Belcastros would have had every reason to back the Fierros. My family wouldn't have been able to resist.

Instead, he came to me alone and offered me a deal.

Protection, freedom and his silence. In exchange for a marriage that would give him exactly what he wanted.

The Verdone name.

And Isa was the perfect card to play if he wanted me desperate enough to take it.

I almost laughed. It was funny how I'd spent six months eliminating the men who got in the way of what I'd wanted, only for the one person who had supported me through it all to become the reason I might finally surrender.

A sigh left me as I told myself it was nothing for what felt like the hundredth time.

Isa disappeared all the time. She hated being cooped up in this city, and whenever she got bored enough, she’d find some excuse to sneak away for a few days.

That was Isa, and she’d come back.

She always did.

I reached for my phone again as I headed to the security post, my thumb hovering over her name.

I didn’t know what I was expecting.

Maybe she’d finally answer and laugh at me.

Maybe she’d tell me she’d gone somewhere without telling anyone because, apparently, being a normal person was too boring for my sister.

Or maybe it’d go to voicemail again, and I'd one less excuse to dismiss him.

I held my breath and pressed call.

Nothing. No ring, no dialing.

Just a reminder that her phone was unreachable.

I swallowed and pulled the phone from my ear.

Where are you, Isa?

“Signurina.” One of the men straightened when he saw me approaching.

I gave him a curt nod, but he still didn't meet my eyes. His gaze remained just above my head, the way a soldier's should when speaking to the Don's daughter.

“Isa,” I said. “When was the last time you saw her?”

He hesitated, a deep furrow forming on his forehead. “Eh… a little over a week ago. She left through the east gate.”

“By herself?”

“Si.”

“And she didn’t say where she was going or when she’d be back?”

He shook his head. “No.”

My heart sank and a shaky breath escaped me as something cold coiled in my chest.

So Rafe… was right? Had Isa really gone missing?

I swallowed. “And my father, does… does he know about—”

I barely had time to gasp before a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me off the ground.

“There you are.”

“Alessandro!”

I kicked uselessly, trying to pry his arms away while he laughed and spun me around. “Put me down, you idiot!”

After one last spin, he finally set me down.

My feet wobbled when he set me down, and I nearly lost my balance. His hand caught my lower back before I could stumble.

For a second, neither of us moved.

He was closer than I ever allowed most people to get. But Alessandro wasn't like everyone else.

The faint metallic scent that always seemed to cling to him mixed with tobacco, and his breath brushed my cheek. Heat rushed straight to my face.

I cleared my throat, looking anywhere but at him.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, but his hand lingered for another second before he finally let go.

“You’re such an ass.”

That earned me a grin. I stepped back, pretending to straighten my dress while avoiding his eyes.

We’d known each other for close to twenty years and I still couldn’t think straight around him.

We'd gone from running around the estate with Isa to watching him become one of my father’s most trusted soldiers.

He’d earned that position young, becoming the youngest head capo our family had ever had. Most men twice his age still thought twice before challenging him.

And yet, he couldn’t behave himself around me.

“Have you seen Isa?” I asked, glancing at him.

His smile softened. "You know how she is. Always looking for somewhere to escape to after being cooped up in this city for too long.”

“She does hate it here.”

“Hate it?” He scoffed. “Chia, she thinks staying in Sicily is a punishment.”

I laughed.

“With its insane drivers and overflowing dumpsters lining every street." 

We said it at the same time, then burst out laughing. For a moment, the worry sitting in the back of my mind loosened its grip.

Then, his voice grew gentler. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’ll come home soon.”

I nodded, though something inside me refused to agree with him. “Yeah. I’m sure she will.”

I hesitated for a moment, the question I’d been dying to know the answer to sitting at the tip of my tongue. “Does… does Pa know she’s gone?”

His brows shot up, his eyes fixed on me as if I’d just asked whether the sun was going to rise tomorrow.

“Of course he does. You know how he is with Isa.”

I nodded.

Right.

“Now,” he continued, taking my hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow. “It’s time for you to go back to the kitchen, or else your mother will have my balls served for dinner.”

I threw my head back and laughed, tears pricking the corner of my eyes.

“Your husband-to-be and the rest of the Fierros will be here soon. Duty calls, Chia.”

---

It was a shitty custom among the three families that the bride-to-be cooked for her husband’s family on the night of the formal engagement dinner, while her mother cooked for hers.

Which was why I was serving caponata and bruschetta to a family who would chop my hands off if they knew what I’d done.

More of the Fierros were present tonight, each one with a different story to tell in their eyes.

Don Leone sat at the head of the table with his wife to his left. A faint smile touched her lips as I served her, but her eyes were still red-rimmed, her shoulders sagging beneath the weight of losing three sons in less than a year.

Something sharp twisted in my chest. I could barely imagine the kind of pain she must have been feeling.

And now, she might lose another one.

I locked my jaw and took my eyes off her, banishing the thought as I moved past her.

Rafe’s younger brother, Matteo, sat next to her. He was quiet, keeping mostly to himself as I moved around the table.

A few more of Rafe’s cousins had come, and my dear old friend was there too.

Emil, apparently, was his name.

“Enjoy,” I whispered as I served him, fighting back the smirk threatening to appear on my face. He could barely face me, keeping his eyes firmly on his plate.

'Hope you choke on it.'

I was pretty sure he’d rather take another bullet than eat the food I cooked.

The smirk I’d been holding finally broke through, if only for a moment.

Oh, if only Isa were here. I’d have laughed my head off.

Then her absence hit me like a tidal wave, and my smile faltered.

‘Where are you, Isa?’ I asked no one in particular as I silently took my seat after finishing my rounds.

My mom sat down not long after, and with everyone finally settled, my father bowed his head and said a short prayer in Italian, asking God to bless the food and the families gathered around the table.

“Amen!” someone at the center of the table bellowed.

My brows shot up, eyes wide.

Fierros. How stupid could they be?

Before anyone else had even reached for their forks, the man had already started eating, shoveling food into his mouth.

The room went silent as everyone watched him.

I knew I was a great cook, but couldn’t he have waited for one of the Dons to take the first bite?

You never ate before a Don. Never.

“Leone, what is this?” My father started, his voice a mix of disappointment and disgust. "First, your nephew pulls a gun on my daughter in my own home, and now, before I've even had the chance to finish my prayer or pick up my fork, one of your family members has already started eating."

He slowly turned his gaze toward the man, his expression hardening.

"If your family intends to keep insulting me, then at least have the decency to—"

The man suddenly coughed.

My father's words died in his throat.

At first, I thought he'd simply swallowed something the wrong way. He cleared his throat and reached for his glass, but before he could take a sip, another cough tore through him.

This one was worse.

His hand tightened around the glass, rattling it against the table as he struggled to catch his breath.

The room held its breath as every pair of eyes turned toward him.

"Are you all right?" someone asked.

He didn't answer.

His chair scraped violently against the floor as he pushed himself up, knocking his plate sideways.

Food spilled across the tablecloth, but that was the least of anyone's problems.

He staggered backward, one hand gripping the edge of the table as his whole body began to shake.

"What the hell is happening?" Leone demanded, already pushing himself to his feet.

Several Fierros rushed toward him, nearly knocking over their chairs in the process.

One caught him by the shoulders while another tried to steady him, voices overlapping as everyone suddenly started talking at once.

"Get some water."

"Move, let me see him."

"What's wrong with him?"

I didn't move.

I couldn't.

I just stared at the chaos unfolding across the table, my mind struggling to catch up with what my eyes were seeing.

His movements gradually weakened. The frantic voices around him grew quieter as they realized the same thing I did.

Something was terribly wrong.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, he went still.

The man holding him looked down at him, waiting for some sign of movement.

"Hey..."

Nothing.

Someone said his name again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

His eyes remained open, but whatever had been behind them was gone.

Nobody spoke.

A few seconds ago, we'd been sitting around this table, about to discuss an engagement.

Now, one of the Fierros was dead.