Keeping his bride

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I’M LYING IN a hospital bed, barely aware of my surroundings. I’ve been in and out of consciousness for days, I think. Maybe longer. But even though my body is stationary, my brain is moving at a million miles a minute. The events that occurred and led me here are plaguing my mind in a torturous, never-ending loop.

My uncle betrayed me. I should have known all along, but I was just a young boy when he came to get me in the aftermath of my family’s death. I clung to him like a lifeline, never knowing that he was the one who had orchestrated the whole thing to begin with. He deceived his own brother for power and money, hurting and killing a lot of innocent people in the process. I was supposed to die along with them, but I survived. I was able to thrive, much to his dismay.

Now that I know the hard, cold truth, everything is starting to make sense. I have no doubt in my mind that he coordinated the attacks on my warehouses as a way to distract me. And who knows how long he’s been working with the FBI. Maybe from the first moment he laid eyes on Aria. He probably recognized her from media coverage and devised a plan to easily take me down without even getting blood on his hands. He always did take the easy way out; letting others do his dirty work for him.

My uncle not only cost me my family and childhood, but he also set the plan in motion for me to lose the most precious thing in my life, my only reason for breathing – Aria.

The image of the last time I saw her beautiful face will be engrained into my memory until I die, and her tortured cries when I fell to the ground, my body finally succumbing to its injuries, will haunt me well into the afterlife.

I still remember the moment I slid my lucky coin into her pocket. It was a goodbye message. I was prepared to die in that room, because deep down I knew I was going to lose her. And if I truly lost her, then there would be no reason for me to continue on. I simply can’t imagine a world without Aria in it. Life has no meaning without her light breaking through all of my darkness.

While I stew in my inner turmoil, I vaguely realize the sedatives they’ve given me must be finally wearing off, because suddenly I can hear everything around me more clearly. It no longer feels like my head is under water. However, now that my senses are returning, the incessant beeping of the machines keeping me alive is driving me up the wall with madness. Growling, I force my eyes open and try to raise my hands, but quickly realize that they’re cuffed to the bed rails.

“Good. You’re awake,” comes a voice.

My eyes snap to my right where a man in a suit presently sits. He’s tall with dark hair and gray eyes. I recognize him immediately from my extensive research on Aria. This is her father. I don’t know whether to feel relieved or not. But I suppose if he wanted to kill me, I would be dead already. So, I look him straight in the eye and say, “Mr. Vitale, I presume.”

He nods once as he sets his calculating gaze on me. “Mr. Navarro.”

“Now that the formalities are over with, maybe you can tell me what the fuck you are doing here,” I snarl. A migraine is blooming behind my eyes, and I squeeze my eyes shut, internally trying to calm myself down. I’m desperate for information about his daughter and starting off our conversation this way won’t help matters at all. Opening my eyes again, I keep a steady tone and ask him, “How is Aria?”

“I was hoping you would ask about my daughter since you’re all that she seems to care about at the moment,” he says bitterly. The man is like a statue, not giving anything away. But I can see the subtle hints that being in the same room as me is bothering him. Like the way he adjusts the cuffs of his suit jacket before he says, “Aria is fine.”

I study his face for a moment, but I don’t find many similarities between him and his daughter. Thinking back to the photos I scoured through; Aria is a younger version of her mother. And, fuck, just thinking about her causes my migraine to intensify. I miss my little captive. It’s hard to even breathe without her here by my side. “How long was my uncle working with the FBI?” I ask, curiosity eating away at me. He’s the reason Aria was taken from me. He’s the reason for all of my misery and pain my entire life, in fact. And I’m still trying to process the depth of his betrayal to my family and to me.