My Tragic Mafia Life | ✔️

74

Josephine had never heard a quieter sound. She was on the verge of falling asleep in the limousine just to cut off her sharp instincts. But her eyes kept open, staring out into the rolling hills for the past hour. Dante refused to read like he normally would and Beatriz refused to talk. How could they? After finding out the truth of the murder, or how much of the truth Josephine revealed to them, they were left in shock.

In the end, silence devoured them all.

They were on their way to the Valencio household where Cordelia had thrown her party. Dante didn't know what was going to happen. Neither did Beatriz. Or Josephine. Cordelia simply announced that the occasion would be about Houston. But rather than discuss the horrid possibilities, each idea more gruesome than the next, they remained silent. Because although Josephine found the answer they had been looking for, Valentina had been killed for no reason. They were wrong, and it cost a life.

Josephine was personally invited. As Cordelia had told her over the phone, she had been the one to redeem Hugo in all of his agony. She was the one to avenge him. Of course she should see Houston die.

It left her with a pinching headache. To relieve it, she shut her eyes and tried to imagine being a world away. She had two hours to settle herself. It should be enough, but mulling over her decision probably was worsening it.

What Beatriz told her had kindled inside of her: she would never be free. Dante wouldn't let her go. And all that he'd promised and lied about left her with edges jagged and broken. She knew that they wouldn't smooth over time even with a thousand apologies. It wouldn't happen. Not with them. In their world.

So she traded Houston's life for her freedom.

Josephine knew what that made her, so she didn't dwell on it much. In fact, she had been numb since then. She hadn't felt anything except the searing headache. Even when Houston was being taken away... Nothing. Like the time she had wasted here, looking for a hope that didn't exist. Perhaps it was shock. Or the horror that she could do something this vile and feel nothing more than slight discomfort.

Beatriz shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Do you remember the rules?" The first she had spoken since they entered the limousine and it was intended for her.

Josephine did not stop staring out of the window. "I remember." A short, clipped answer.

Dante rested a hand on her knee, "Do you want to talk about it?" About everything. Houston.

Right. Because she had been the one to find out. And, according to his perspective, she was burdened by the news for all of this time. Before the question would have made her heart flutter, knowing that someone cared. But her heart was as rotten as a fish, and it didn't so much as beat.

"No," She said, pushing the hand away. Not even a flicker of feeling.

Beatriz swallowed with a sickening look of helplessness. She did that every so often, but mainly when Josephine couldn't catch her. This was not one of those times.

Perhaps they should talk. It would help... progress everything. Make it easier to understand what they were going to see. What they were going to hear and experience.

But Josephine was too tired. She tried to muster the shame of what she had done. Of whose life was going to be lost.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Sometimes her mind warped itself into emotion. It was only rage, sharp and hostile, before the feelings faded and she was left in a shell of who she was. In the end, her selfishness had won. She had sent Houston to die. Houston, who pleaded for his life. Thrashed against Cordelia's men and cried for help. Houston, who was her friend. A friend only worth her freedom.