“Don’t.”
“Dante,” I choke, pulling away from Tempest.
“This wasn’t because of you.”
“Of course it was! I blew up his car, and this is their response!” I hiss quietly, feeling the panic clawing at my chest. “This is—”
“Look at me.”
I shiver as Dante grabs my shoulders and peers hard into my eyes.
“This is not your fucking fault. Do you understand me?”
I swallow, looking away.
“How is Dad?”
My brother nods slowly. “He’s…okay, surprisingly enough. There was a lot of blood when they pulled him out of the building.”
I tense again, my eyes flying wide. Dante shakes his head.
“It wasn’t his,” he reassures me.
“It was Tony Pagano’s,” another voice says.
I pull away from Tempest, smiling weakly as an older man in a black coat and an old-school fedora comes over.
“Piccola piuma,” Aldo says somberly, pulling me into a hug.
Aldo Bernardi has been one of Vito’s closest consiglieres since…well…forever. He’s been like an uncle to Carmy, Nico, Dante and me our whole lives. “Little feather” is his favorite nickname for me, from when I was first discovering ballet, and used to flit around the room.
“You’re okay?”
“She was at practice,” Dante sighs with an edged tone.
Aldo smiles fondly and pats my hand. “But of course you were.”
Nico frowns. “How’s Don Pagano?”
Aldo grimaces. “Missing his eyebrows and pissed the fuck off. He took a piece of the poker table itself through his leg. But he’s going to be okay.”
I turn to Dante. “Where’s Dad?”
“In there.” He points toward a closed hospital room door, with two big guys I know as Barone muscle—Leo and Rocco—and about ten other obviously made men standing guard.
I pull away from Aldo and start to march over, but Dante puts out an arm to stop me. I glare at him with fury in my eyes.
“What the fuck, Dante!”
My older brother frowns. “Easy, Bianca. He’s—”
The door to the hospital room suddenly opens, and Carmine steps out. When he sees me, he visibly relaxes as he storms over to hug me.
“Fucking hell, Bee. Keep your goddamn phone on.”
“I need to see—”
“Soon. There’s an emergency Commission meeting going on in there right now. Sit tight, Pop’s okay.”
I nod meekly. When I suddenly notice the bandages on Carmy’s hands, my eyes go wide.
“Oh my God, Carm!”
“It’s fine,” he shrugs. “Just burns.”
“Carmy was at the game with dad,” Nico explains. “Pulled him out, too,” he adds, clapping our brother on the back.
“Dad’s really going to be okay?” I ask quietly, eyeing Carmine.
He nods. “Totally. He’s mostly just pissed about one of his favorite suits getting fucked up, and that he was on a serious heater when the bomb went off.” He frowns as my face twists miserably. “C’mon, don’t, Bianca.”
“It… It all got out of hand,” I blurt hoarsely. “I never meant—”
“What you did was fucking stupid,” Carmy growls. “There, you happy? It was fucking reckless and fucking stupid. No one’s saying otherwise, Bee.”
My shoulders slump.
“But it wasn’t an act of war,” he hisses. “And it sure as fuck didn’t merit a response that was as good as a goddamn assassination attempt,” he spits angrily. He gives me a wry look before pulling me into a tight hug. “The important thing is, everyone’s okay. Yeah?”
