Page 64 of Devil’s Reign

We’re doing this. We’re actually having this conversation.

My throat tightens, my heart aching as I hold her gaze. “You didn't seem receptive whenever I tried to bring the subject up, so I always let it go. I didn’t understand how hard everything must have been for you. And I still don’t, not really. But I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” And I mean it. At least Luciano and I were already fluent in English when we landed in New Jersey. Mamma’s was basic and broken. She arrived with two children to keep alive and a body that didn’t feel like her own anymore, in a country where she barely spoke the language. And she had to learn it fast—while rebuilding everything from nothing and earning enough so we wouldn’t starve. She’s impressive.

A wave of pride so fierce hits me that the tears I've been blinking back spill down my cheeks.

“Oh no, amuri meu. Sta bona. I’m so sorry.” She reaches up to wipe my face, her voice soft and soothing. “I’m glad you don’t understand, Melani. And I never want you to. I never want you or your brother to go through what I did. But I failed you both.” The last words fracture, and I feel it like a fist squeezing around my heart.

“No, Mamma. You didn’t. You didn’t fail us.” I step back into her arms and hug her tightly, hoping she can feel the truth of it through the embrace. She didn’t fail us. And I know Luciano doesn’t feel that way either.

She presses her face into my neck, and something warm and wet slips beneath my collar. She's crying. For the first time since what happened on the ship. At least the first time in front of me. For two years, she's held this in. I hold her tighter, swallowing hard as I fight back my own tears.

The knowledge cracks something open in my chest, and I hold her tighter, swallowing hard as I fight back my own tears. This moment isn’t about me. We stand like that for what feels like hours, Mamma crying quietly in my arms while I try my best to comfort her. Eventually, her sobs slow to sniffles, and she finally pulls back.

“I’ve gotten your clothes wet again,” she says in soft Sicilian.

“I’d take this every day over you bottling everything up,” I reply in the same language.

She gives me a watery smile, suddenly looking so young—almost girlish. Then she turns, unplugs the kettle, and takes my arm to steer me towards the sofa. We sit close together, her knee nearly touching mine. She stares at the floor for a moment before heaving a heavy sigh. “I know you and Luciano hate the job I do.”

“Hate is a strong word.” I did hate it—not for what it was, but because I thought it was a trauma response to what those men did to her on the ship.

“Sta bona. It’s okay to admit it. I hated it too. But I believed it was the only job I could get. Nobody cared about my English. I could just lie there, let it happen, and then get paid for it.” Her voice grows quieter. “After all… I had already done it for free on the ship, hadn’t I?”

The air leaves my lungs. My hands ball into fists against my thighs, and I clench my teeth together—hard—because if she sees how much it affects me, she might stop talking, and I need her to keep talking.

“It was soul-stripping, I’ll admit. But after a while, I went numb. And the alcohol and drugs helped. I know you hated those too. I hated them myself. But I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t find my way back to you and Luciano… even though you two were the only reason I kept going. The only reason I forced myself to stay alive.”

My heart aches, and despite myself, a few tears slip down my face. “I’m glad you stuck around for us, Mamma,” I whisper, my voice raw.

She smiles bitterly. “A lot of good that did. You two would’ve been better off without me.”

“Of course not.” She’s all we have left. Life without her would have been bleak and hopeless.

She shakes her head. “I was practically catatonic. I’m sorry it took us losing Luciano to snap out of it. When I thought I’d lost you too… it was a very humbling experience.”

“You haven’t lost either of us.” I take her hand from her lap and squeeze. “I’m here, and I know Luciano is alive somewhere.” We just need to find him.

“I think so too.”

I blink in surprise. “Really?” It’s the first time she’s said that since he went missing.

“Before he disappeared, one of my clients had been grumbling about him losing his men, but I didn’t pay it any mind. It was no skin off my nose.” She shrugs. “But when your brother got made and joined the Petrov family, it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of hot water in my face. I told him to stop, and he said he would if I stopped too. Stop my work, the alcohol, the drugs. All of it." Her lips twist. “I was furious that he dared give me an ultimatum, so I walked away. But when my anger cooled, I realized I would do anything to save my son. I would have quit everything—even if it meant spiraling down the dark hole I’d been avoiding.”

She draws in a breath before continuing. “Two days later, Joan, a colleague at work, told me she overheard one of her clients talking on the phone while she pretended to be asleep. The man was telling someone that he had captured two Petrov soldiers and was holding them in a safe house with the other men he’d taken.” She pauses, shifting in her seat. “At the time, it meant nothing to me. But then your brother didn’t come home. Not the first night. Not the second. As the days turned into a week, I started wondering if he might have been one of the Petrov soldiers Joan’s client mentioned. So I kept working… hoping I’d cross paths with that man.”

I gasp. She was doing exactly what I tried to do by getting a job at Zvezda. “You shouldn’t have, Mamma. That was dangerous. You could have gotten seriously hurt.”

All this time, I've been so consumed with my mission to find Luciano that it never even occurred to me that my mother might have one of her own.

“No more dangerous than what landed you here.” She gives me a pointed look, and I can’t argue with that. “But my research paid off. I got Joan’s client alone, slipped something into his drink, and once he passed out, I went through his phone.” Her expression shifts, a thread of satisfaction running through it. “There was a message. It mentioned a meeting with their boss. An address, a date, and a time. This could be our chance to find Luciano.”

Excitement flares through me. Yes, this could be our chance. But unease follows on its heels. After my conversation with Vanya, I was inclined to believe Luciano wasn’t kidnapped with the rest of Vanya’s men. That he might have disappeared on his own to try to get revenge on Papa and Emilio Sciarra. Earlier I told Vanya I hoped that was the case, but now I’m having second thoughts. He’s a hothead and can be so impulsive. If he went after them alone, with no backup and no plan⁠—

“The meeting is this weekend, and I’m going there,” Mamma’s words snap me out of my thoughts. “I want to see this boss of theirs myself. Maybe I can find another lead on where they’re holding the Petrov men hostage.”

“No, you can’t go. The man you got the information from—if he’s at that meeting and he recognizes you—" I stop myself before I finish the thought. A man like that wouldn’t handle a liability the way Vanya handled me. There would be no library, no necklace, no rooftop in the rain… nothing. “I’ll go instead. None of them knows my face.”

“You?” She frowns. “You’re held hostage here, Melani. How exactly do you plan to walk out of this hotel?”