There was a flicker of surprise on his face when I approached him. I sank down on the chair across from him, wincing slightly.
“You alright?” he rumbled, brows drawing together.
I nodded. “I’m fine,” I said. I didn’t want to discuss my soreness with Growl.
“There’s coffee for you inside,” Growl said. Then he rose and I thought he wanted to avoid me but he returned a few minutes later with a cup of coffee. He’d put way too much milk into the coffee but I was glad for his consideration. I took a sip, then asked a question that had been bothering me for a while.
“What’s your real name? Growl was given to you after that thing with your vocal cords.”
“Was it?” he asked calmly.
I frowned. Suddenly unsure, but nobody was called Growl at birth. “Yes, because of how you sound.”
“Growl,” he repeated and hearing him say the name, it fit him even better.
“So what was your real name?”
“What does it matter?”
“I just want to know,” I said quietly.
He stared off again, as if lost in the past. “I’ve been Growl for a long time. That other name, it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Why do you say that? It’s the name your mother chose for you.”
“But the boy given that name doesn’t exist anymore. He was erased forever.”
“So you don’t mind people calling you Growl? Isn’t it frustrating to be reduced to that small part of you?”
“Growl is a name that scares people. It’s the name that fits me now. It’s a name that holds power and meaning because I worked hard.”
“But isn’t your old name better than a name that reminds you every day of what happened to you?” I wanted to ask him about the events but he was already tense and I had a feeling that he wouldn’t be very forthcoming with more information if I asked him now.
“I don’t need a reminder. I won’t ever forget. It’s here,” he pointed at the scar on his throat, “And here,” he added, pointing at his temple.
I could only imagine what kind of images haunted him at night. Perhaps that’s why he could handle his own actions so easily, because the horrors of his past overshadowed anything else.
He appeared eager when he returned that night. I put down my book. It was the third I’d finished so far. Growl immediately joined me in the living room but he didn’t sit down and stayed in the doorway instead. Always cautious not to get too close except when we were being intimate.
“I have news,” he said calmly. “Falcone had a few drinks today and that always gets him talking. He told me more about your sister. She’s hidden away in one of his properties.”
“He didn’t say where? And why is he hiding her? What does he want with her? What if they are hurting her?” I clutched my knees, the mere idea of my sister being hurt in any way tore at me.
Growl approached, obviously uncomfortable by my distress. “I doubt it very much. Your sister is too valuable as leverage to hurt her. That’s not to say that Falcone won’t do it if he sees it as beneficial for his goal.”
“I don’t understand. What goals? What does it mean?”
“Falcone needs to control your mother. And he’s threatening her with doing to Talia what he did to you. Give her to someone who would hurt her. Your mother isn’t in a good state of mind right now. Apparently she’s guilty because of what happened to you and would do anything to protect at least your sister when she couldn’t protect you.”
“It’s not her fault.”
Growl smirked in a twisted way. Perhaps because we talked about him like he was a curse, but to be honest, that’s exactly why Falcone had given me to him, because everybody feared Growl.
“What I don’t get is how my mother could be useful to Falcone in any way. She’s never been involved in Father’s business. She’s always just been a housewife. The only thing she knows is how to organize a dinner party and where to buy the best shoes.”
I cringed at how horrible that sounded but it was the truth. I couldn’t see how Falcone could use either of those things.
“Your mother doesn’t have to know anything about business. Her blood is what matters.”
I froze. “What do you mean?”
Growl searched my face as if he couldn’t believe I didn’t know. “Your mother isn’t from Vegas. She was born in New York, but ran off with your father.”
I’d suspected that mother had run off with Father. She’d hinted to something like that. But New York? I thought back to the few times I’d talked about New York with my mother. She had always avoided the topic. I had never given it much thought, but it all made sense now. And yet it still didn’t explain why that made her an asset for Falcone.
I peered up at Growl, more confused than ever.
“Do you know who Salvatore Vitiello is?” he asked as he perched on the armrest of the sofa. The thing creaked under his weight.
Salvatore Vitiello? Everybody knew that man. Even people who had nothing to do with the mob knew who he was. His death had been all over the newspapers. “Of course. He was the head of the New York Familia. But he’s dead now.”
Growl nodded. “He is. And your mother is his sister.”
My eyes grew wide in surprise. “My mother is related to the head of the New York Familia?”
“She is. I suppose she and her brother never got along very well, that was another reason why she left New York.”