Filed to story: Bound by Honor (Aria & Luca) Drama Story
Most of my life I’d thought there was no better sound than the screams of agony from my enemies. What a fucking fool I’d been. chapter 28
Six years later, ARIA
“No!” Amo screamed, stamping his foot. He picked up his shoes and threw them across the room. He was already tall for three and could throw remarkably far for a young child.
“We won’t go outside if you don’t put on shoes,” I said, stifling a sigh.
He was boisterous, strong-willed and hotheaded. He was a small version of Luca, black hair, gray eyes, with hints of Matteo’s temper.
“Pick up your shoes and put them on.”
Amo shook his head at me, crossing his arms over his small chest. “No!”
“Amo.” Luca’s voice was firm.
Amo’s gaze flitted toward Luca, who stood in the doorway, and his eyes widened but then he jutted his chin out. He was in his defiant phase. So far he’d never been defiant toward Luca though. “No,” he said.
Luca walked in. “What did you say?”
Amo glared at the floor. “No.” Hesitation swung in his voice.
My eyes darted between Luca and Amo. I knew Amo would follow in Luca’s footsteps. He would become Capo one day. He would become a Made Man long before he was of age. He would have to be strong for the tasks ahead, hardened, and he would have to learn respect. Luca stopped in front of our son. He’d not once raised his hand against Amo or Marcella, never hurt them in any other way, and he would never do so, and usually they obeyed anyway.
Luca crouched down, expression unrelenting. “Look at me,” he ordered, and Amo raised his eyes to his father’s. Luca pointed at the shoes. “You will pick them up and you will put them on. Understood, Amo?” His voice held authority and Amo nodded slowly, but his expression was still defiant as he trudged toward the shoes. Yet he got down on his butt and slipped the shoes on.
Luca shook his head. I touched his arm. “The phase will pass,” I assured him.
He smiled wryly. “He is too much like Matteo. I will need the patience of a saint.”
Amo grew frustrated when he didn’t manage to bind his shoes, and angry tears gathered in his gray eyes. I could tell he wanted to throw his shoes again.
Luca walked over and got down on his haunches, then showed Amo how to do it. Amo smiled when he managed to do it himself. “Remember, Amo, no crying when someone could see you. Not even in anger or frustration,” Luca said quietly but firmly. “It’s okay to cry when you are alone with your mother or me.”
Amo nodded and blinked a few times. Luca stood and held out his hand. “Let’s check out your uncle’s new bike. It’s even faster than his last.”
Amo took Luca’s hand and beamed up at his father.
They looked so much alike, it filled my heart with ridiculous happiness. Luca had been worried he’d be too hard on a son, especially if he looked like him, but he needn’t have worried. He was strict toward Amo but never cruel. He wasn’t anything like his father.
LUCA
After we’d inspected Matteo’s new bike, Amo dashed off again, probably to bug his sister.
“I’m starving,” Matteo said. “Why don’t we go in and check if your little monsters left us any leftovers.”
We walked back up the driveway and entered the mansion. With her six years, Marcella looked remarkably like her mother, except for the black hair. She raced toward me the moment I entered, Amo hot on her heels.
She hugged my middle, peering up at me with a pout. “Amo hit me!”
My eyes flew toward my son. Amo glared at his sister. “She hit me first!”
“Because you took my doll and ripped its head off.”
I narrowed my eyes at my son. “You don’t ever raise your hand against your sister, understood?”
He gave a reluctant nod. I caught Marcella poking her tongue out at him and nudged her chin up with my finger. I was often too lenient with her, but it was hard to be strict when she looked at me with her mother’s eyes and face. “And you won’t hit your brother again.”
She flushed. “Okay.”
I turned back to Amo, who looked triumphantly at his sister. “Why did you rip the doll’s head off?”
His face scrunched up in disgust. “Marci made kissy noises and told me to kiss it.”
Matteo leaned in the doorway, chuckling.
“Why don’t you torture your uncle?” I suggested.
Amo didn’t need to be told twice, of course. With a battle cry, he stormed toward Matteo and latched on to his leg like a spider monkey. Marcella was close behind and started tugging at Matteo’s arm, trying to bring him to his knees.
“Mercy,” he moaned and went down. I rolled my eyes at his theatrical performance but my kids loved it. Matteo began tickling them and Amo dashed away, out of reach and hid behind me. I chuckled and tousled his hair. He pressed up to my leg. It seemed ridiculous that I’d ever thought I would be cruel to a son. I was stricter with him and I had to harden him, but I would never hurt him like our father had hurt Matteo and me.
Matteo got Marcella and began tickling her. “Help!” she called between laughs. Amo released me and flung himself back at Matteo to help his sister. My smile fell the second Amo reached for Matteo’s gun in the holster at his waist.