My Tragic Mafia Life | ✔️

44

Luca swallowed, considering the possibility. "She isn't that...type of person. So, I don't think so." Then he gave into that uncertainty that tore through them all. "But who knows, I never knew that she would run away and betray us. And she did that too. I wouldn't be surprised if manipulation was on that list."

It was an open wound, and Josephine had pried her fingers into it. Luca said she meant well, but all she did was worsen things. She questioned everything, and this was the result. This wasn't how someone helped with grieving. Now, all they did was question Isla. The same Isla who offered her a hand when none was given. Apologized when none would. The same Isla who had once been by their side, traded stories with Lucia and stole kisses in the dark from Luca, now was gone. With the enemy.

"I'm sorry," Was all Josephine could say. The twins seemed plagued by memories and she didn't want to prod further.

Lucia bristled, but her eyes were alive like lightning. "She didn't even give us an explanation. There was absolutely nothing. She just packed her bags and left. Like we meant nothing to her all these years."

Josephine slid her arms across her chest. She didn't know what else to say.

Luca shook his head, then tipped it back and laughed painfully. "Well she got what she's always wanted: A new life without us, and a whole new group of friends to replace us."

So that's how they all saw her. Camillo, Valentina, the twins, all angry and bitter at her betrayal. Her lack of empathy with her actions. It still left the question weighing down on Josephine's conscience. What was so horrible that it made Isla run away? That sent her into a spiral of thoughts she shouldn't have been curious about, but was.

Just how different were the Russos and the Valencios? Mafias couldn't have been run uniformly, that would result in a lack of competition, but the name was coined around easily. It wasn't difficult to think of someone running away because of circumstances that risked their own life, not for personal gain. Though, freedom was a personal gain of its own. But which one had forced Isla to act?

Josephine didn't want to imagine that possibility. She wanted to think that kindness could still grow in the darkest situations. That the purest souls weren't poisoned by greed when given the opportunity.

But then again, humans were selfish creatures.

From the top of the sky, where the open space cleared without a cloud in sight, the sun flared across and left its trails red-hot. Jubilee Lane, though typically vivacious with vendors in colors of reds, greens, and purples, found itself busy in only the solemn shades of the tall buildings. For it was the distilling cool underneath the shadows that made it enough to endure the blistering humidity. Josephine found herself frazzyling underneath the sun in minutes, no stronger than the rest of the patrons outside, wondering if she had applied sunblock that afternoon.

Camillo had given them a small mercy by trailing underneath striped umbrellas, its owners selling cups of fruit drizzled with honey. They hopped underneath each one, swishing right and left over and over just to spare any attention from the sun. Josephine could admit that the delicacies offered seemed perfect for cooling. But they had not come here to eat.

Josephine was surprised to find when they passed Charlotte's, which was a bit emptier in the late afternoon, and continued down the street known as Palmos Drive. They were focusing on something more important than food. It was Beatriz's torn note, and they marched down to meet at the address written on it.

Josephine stopped walking, and gaped.

Camillo turned. "What is it?"

"When you said you wanted me to come," Josephine paled to the color of a fresh bottle of cream. "This is not what I had in mind."