“Mom?” I jolt awake this time. The room is dark.
“Calla, baby.” I hear him. Cain. He sounds so tired.
“Jesus, baby. You’re awake.”
“My shoulder,” I say.
“It’s fine. You’re going to be fine.” He bends and kisses me on my cheek.
“Manny?”
“He’s fine, too. Both of you have been through hell and survived.”
“My dad?” I can’t see him. It’s too dark.
“Cain?” I begin to panic.
“I’m right here, my girl.”
I lift my hand, trying to find anything for it to come in contact with for support. I feel the warmth of someone’s hand. My dad’s hand. I squeeze it. My body begins to tremble. I attempt to stifle my sobs at first, to show my strength. It’s no use. The salty tears fall down my face to my quivering lips.
“Hey, no crying. I’m here. You’re safe.”
A warm hand presses against my back. I would know that hand anywhere. Every time it touches me, I feel myself come to life. My adrenaline soars and my heart rate picks up, all from the simple touch of his hand. He moves it in slow, comforting circles, a small token to try and help me drown out my sorrows and misery.
“I don’t want to go back to sleep. I want to know what happened. I need to see Manny. Please,” I croak.
“I’m right here.”
Manny’s voice has me more alert than before. I’m happy to hear them all. Irritated doesn’t begin to scratch the surface that I cannot see them.
“I need to see you,” I say.
I’m welcomed with silence once again.
“Seriously?” I question, my irritation turning to anger. “I’m not a child. I want to see him.”
The click of a light switch comes from the corner of the room. A soft yellow glow cascades from the lamp. My dad is the first person I see, just like so many mornings when he would get me out of bed and help get me ready for school.
“Where’s mom?”
He has a slightly impressed grin on his face.
“She’s upstairs taking a shower.”
“Upstairs? Where am I?”
“We’re at Salvatore’s.”
I go to speak but my dad silences me with his finger.
“An ambulance brought both you and Manny here. No hospital, sweetheart. Too many questions would have been asked if you were taken there. You’ve been treated with the best doctors around, Calla. We have round the clock nursing staff here. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
The hospital part catches me somewhat off guard. I contemplate what he said for a moment, although I understand more than any of them think I do. My dad, or someone, cleaned up after it all. Knowing my father, he hasn’t left my side, not once. Neither has my mother. Neither has Cain.
“I understand everything, Dad. I do have to say though, you look like shit,” I blurt out. He smirks.
“You think? I probably smell worse than I look. I haven’t showered in four damn days.”
“Four days? That’s how long I’ve been out?”
He lifts his eyes from mine to Cain’s.
“Dad?”
He exhales.
“You’ve been in and out for two weeks, Calla,” Cain says from behind me.
My body is stiff. How I manage to flip over to face him is beyond me. This is my first glimpse of him in two weeks. He has days of scruff on his face, his eyes bloodshot from what I guess is lack of sleep.
“Two weeks?”
That’s impossible. In and out without even realizing that two weeks have passed? Something is not right.
“What is it you three are hiding from me? Is something wrong?”
I may feel weak and somewhat lost, but for God’s sake, if I can handle what happened to me, then I sure as hell can handle whatever they are hiding from me.
“Dad. Please?”
His eyes dart from mine to Cain’s. Whatever it is, it’s bad. The last time I saw this pained expression on my dad’s face was the night he told me he was Salvatore’s hitman. I’m starting to become agitated.
“I’m not a child. I have a right to know!” I insist.
“All right, calm down. It’s not you. You’re going to be fine. The doctors had to keep you in a drug-induced coma. You were so banged up. So drugged up. Hell, with the amount of heroin they injected into you in such a short period of time, we’re damn lucky you’re alive.”
I rest my head back on my pillow, grabbing both Cain’s and my father’s hands. Manny stands at the end of my bed.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I had no choice but to allow them to keep you under,” Cain whispers.
“It’s okay. I’m just a little taken back. I knew they drugged me. I knew it was heroin, but my God, enough to truly kill me?”
I lift my head. The pain in my shoulder is merely an ache.
“And what about you, Manny? Are you really okay?”
He looks great, actually. Traces of yellowish color spread across one cheek and under one eye. Other than that, he looks like Manny.
“I’m fine. My pinky finger is gone.”
He lifts up his left hand to show me his bandaged up stump.
“Oh, Manny. I’m so sorry,” I say sincerely.
“Stop. There will be none of this ‘I’m sorry’ bullshit. We survived. Very few people do. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I couldn’t do a damn thing to save you from the shit my brother was doing to you and then that cunt. I hope she is living the true meaning of hell right now. Burning for eternity is too good for that dumb bitch.”
I can’t help myself. I start to laugh. I laugh so hard my stomach starts to hurt.
“So true!” I finally say. “And your brother is right there with her.”
The room goes eerily quiet. I look at all three of them in confusion. Again, an unsettling feeling overwhelms me.
“Royal’s not dead.”
Manny stops laughing before those dreaded words come out of his mouth. I feel myself gripping their hands even tighter. Tight enough to feel a stinging sensation.
“Shit. It’s my fault,” says my dad. My lips begin to tremble.
“I don’t understand.”
“Calla. Listen to me. I shot him in the shoulder. It’s the first time I have ever missed a mark. This is on me. I lost focus.”
I really take in my dad’s appearance. This is bothering him more than he is letting on. I’m back to the eyes. Always the eyes. He’s beating himself up over this. I won’t allow it.
“Dad, no,” I say sternly. “You did what only my dad would do. You saved your daughter’s life. There’s no fault in that. You all know as well as I do I would not be here right now if it wasn’t for you. Don’t ever say or think anything like that again.”
Dad and I have a very severe stare down. An ill feeling settles over me. There’s more to this story. These three can’t hide things for shit. The stiffness in my dad’s posture gives that away for damn sure. I continue holding his gaze, my eyes telling him I will never blame him for this. His holds a promise. A promise that he will indeed find Royal and destroy him for what he has done.
My father is the first to look away. Me, I stand firm. I could never blame him for anything. One thing is for damn sure. After everything that has gone down, I have made up my mind that I will do whatever it is Salvatore wants me to. Family always comes first. Royal may not have loyalty to this family, but I do.
“When did you become the wise one? Huh?” asks my dad, stroking my cheek.
“The day I was born. The day I became the daughter of Johnathon Weston Greer.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cain
Two people can be connected in such a manner that the health of one loved one can relate to the health of the other. It’s a true fact.
The moment I saw Calla being carried out of the warehouse, I died right there of a broken heart. Her beautiful face was beaten beyond recognition. She was unresponsive, her limbs dangling like wet noodles. If it weren’t for the EMTs who reassured John and me repeatedly that she had a pulse, I would have sworn she was dead.