Assigned to Her [Mafioso Book#4]

Chapter VIII: Vendetta

Serafina has been in an accident.

The words echoed in his skull as the chill outside felt like nothing compared to the ice traveling down his spine. His breath stuck in his throat as he lowered the phone from his ear, his eyes unable to focus on what was in front of him while his mind raced with all the thoughts. His thoughts about the extent of her injury, about his parents, and Salvatore, about Alessio and her kids, about Jayson, and the vendetta.

His heart thundered hard against his chest and his knees trembled at the words. Grasping the cold railing in front of him in an effort to try and remain standing, trying to clear his head so that he knows what he should do next.

He didn't receive any orders, he had to take matters into his own hand.

The sound of the balcony doors sliding open behind him had him straighten and blink away the tears.

"Marco?" Sofia called behind him. "Everything alright?"

Letting out a deep exhale, he slipped his phone into his slacks pockets before turning to her with a smile.

"Everything is fine," He assured her. "I've just been called for some last-minute things back at HQ, so I'm going to head on out,"

"Oh,"

"And I think you should get some rest, it's late,"

"Okay..." Sofia trailed, looking up at him with scrunched eyebrows, noticing the tenseness about his stance. "I hope everything is alright there,"

"It's all standard procedure," Marco assured her as he walked into the apartment, Sofia hot at his heels and watched him pull on his blazer and coat, grabbing his essentials off the tabletop.

"Rather late for such a procedure,"

"It's actually a lot more common than you'd think," He chuckled breathlessly, making his way towards the apartment door. "Random matters keeping popping up at the most random of times. I suppose you could consider it an occupational hazard that comes with being the largest Mafia."

"Well-" She wanted to say something, wanting to ease the weight on his shoulders, but Sofia had no idea what she could possibly say to make things better.

"Lock the doors behind me," Were Marco's parting words as he slipped out of the apartment, the door closing shut behind him before he made his way down the hallway. Taking the fire exit down, knowing he didn't have time to wait for the elevator.

The drive to the hospital was a long one, or maybe the palpitations made feel longer than it actually was, but regardless of that, Marco let out a relieved breath to finally come into the parking.

Making his way inside, he took the stairs up to the third landing, his gaze instantly shooting up at the sound of a scream resonating above him.

Tearing out his gun from the holster, he held it at a ready and sprinted up the remainder of the stairs, aiming his weapon around him before catching sight of his family all standing together and unharmed, their gaze to the left. A rancid metallic stench reached his nose as he resisted the urge to gag, turning to find his brother standing above a corpse and drenched in blood. His breath faltering to know that Salvatore had snapped.

He stumbled forward when someone bumped into his shoulder, looking up, his gaze softened to find Alessio looking around in a panic, getting cornered by Arcangelo and two guards.

Marco couldn't help the swell of pity that arose in his chest to see his brother-in-law with grief-stricken and crazed eyes, glancing wildly around him, begging for answers none of the men in front of him possessed. And the youngest wished – for Alessio's sake – that his brother would be gentle on him.