The Casella Sin: A Dark Age-gap Mafia Romantic Tragedy (The Casella Brothers Book 3) by C.B. FREY

Author:C.B. FREY [FREY, C.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-04-25T00:00:00+00:00

Blood Oaths and Pathetic Excuses.

My stomach is in my mouth as I run barefoot toward the one place I have avoided since getting here. I stop by the shed, my heartbeat frantic as I search for something, anything that’ll help me alleviate the way I’m feeling right now. Spotting a shovel leaning up against some gardening tools, I grab it with two hands, the heavy steel making it hard to hold with one.

What did you expect, coming back home?

You knew things would end up this way. You thought about it.

I silence the voice in my head and haul the shovel over my shoulder. I have something I need to do before anything else. It’s long overdue and with the way I’m feeling right now, it’s very much a necessity.

The hired maids work to get the yard cleaned up, empty glass bottles littered all over the lawn, and I scowl as I walk past them.

I’ve never hated someone as much as I hate Dante at this very moment, and it’s that hatred that keeps me fuelled. Not caring who might stop me, I head up the edge of the cliff, the dark stones of my father’s mausoleum now withered from the salt of the sea. It’s big enough to house our entire family, and I know this is why he built it. So even in death, he wouldn’t be alone.

Selfish prick.

I pull on the gate, the large chain and lock rattling against it. I could have asked Dante for the key, but I couldn’t look at him for another second. Taking a deep breath, I swing the shovel where the chain meets the lock.

Again.

And again.

Puffing, I drop the shovel to the floor and scream, shaking the gate as the chains remain in place.

“How could you!?” I sob. “I trusted you, Papà!” Wiping the tears with the back of my hand, I take another breath and pick up the shovel, ramming the sharp edge into the chain and it breaks, the padlock falling to the ground.

Discarding the shovel, I enter and take the descending steps one at a time. The dank smell gets stronger as the door creaks open, revealing my father’s concrete tomb in the middle.

My lip wobbles, the adrenaline now well and truly gone, replaced by fatigue and exhaustion catching up to me from the night. “I miss you so much, Papà,” I whisper, running the pads of my fingertips over the carving on his tomb.

Dante Della Torre.

Niente è più importante della famiglia.

Nothing is more important than family.

“I don’t think I can do this.” I sniff when heavy sounds of footsteps descend the stairs until I’m staring at Rafael, anger and frustration clear as day on his face.

“Tell me why you’re upset.”

“Leave, Rafael. I don’t ever want to see you again.” It hurts to speak the words because I hate that he kept this from me.

“What did Dante tell you?” he asks like he doesn’t already know.

“Don’t do that!” I smack my hand on the tomb. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know everything that’s been going on since the moment we got here.

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