Prepare to meet Soap's family.

CHAPTER 04: CASTELLO PISCIO

Last time Sophia had stepped into Castello Piscio, she had just graduated high school. Those seven years in her absence had done little to change it. Lush moss and ivy still weaved through its ceramic roof tiles, sheltering (however shoddily) the castle's tiers, as well as the largest tower where her grandparent's claimed their suite decades ago. Happy plants hung from the metal catwalk that ran from her master suit's balcony to the watchtower where the family often shared morning coffee. Its white bricks were every bit as grimy as the blonde remembered—maybe more so—and it still had the best vista of Florence from the steep walkway that curved down the cliff face her birthright melded into.

"Never thought I'd miss that musty smell," Mum said in Italian.

Soph breathed in the scent with a nod then placed her hands on her hips as she watched early-morning sunrays refract through the low-altitude clouds that swallowed the castle's base.

"Is Michelangelo—"

Sophia cut off her mother, "He's already in ninja-mode, Mum. I told him I'd text when we figured out sleeping arrangements."

"He's not sleeping with us."

"We'll see." The blonde beckoned her mother closer, although she couldn't ignore the dragging gravel that persisted up until the duo stood at Castello Piscio's patina-stained door. "Why're you dragging your feet?"

The plump woman straightened her blouse, wordless.

"Oh man, are you nervous? It isn't like they don't know we're coming."

"We let them know we were alive. That isn't to say they'll be happy."

"'Course they'll be happy."

"That the attitude you had when Marco tracked you down?"

Not in the least bit. But Sophia would rather face blind optimism than fear and swung the door open because, hell, when was it ever locked? 'God, the plastic furniture covers, the leak buckets, the crosses above every archway, the dingy carpets. Feels good to be back!'

"Sophia," Mum chided, "now would be the best time to show some manners."

"What? You want me to knock to come into my own house?"

"At least pretend I raised a young woman and not some—"

Bodies began to pop sideways from the room's largest archway. First two then three then five, only one of which had dark hair.

"Sophia?" the dark-haired man asked. "Zia Addie! About time you got here. What'd you do? Take the scenic route?"

"Maybe we did. What's it to ya?"

"Nonna wouldn't let us stop cooking until you got here."

"Us? You got Dina in the kitchen?"

"Only for the booze," added a young blonde. She wore black-rim glasses and side-turned baseball cap while chewing gum like a cow did on cud. "Nonno and I have been testing our wines for poisons."

"Not dead yet!" A boisterous man spanned the width of both his youngest grandchildren, yet Soph's knew his tan face could switch from Teddy Bear to Grizzly Bear in a matter of seconds. He continued laughing as someone pushed him aside: his petite wife a faction of his size and twice his presence.

"Nonna!" Soph announced with open arms.

"Tesori," Nonna cooed.

Something felt off. Mum was smart; she put distance between the eldest woman and herself before Sophia even realized she had moved. When Soph glanced back, she spotted a wooden spoon that made her scamper backward.

"Nonna," she started. Still, the spoon rose and the eldest granddaughter fought to keep down subpar airline food. "No—Nonna, wait!"

"I thought you were fucking dead!" It was amazing how red, frail, and miniature Noona looked after the time away, but she bellowed with the force of a Titan and her spoon cracked when it met the couch Sophia had jumped over. "Do you know what you did to my heart? My blood pressure?"

The younger blonde swallowed a smart comeback to dodge the lamp tossed her away. It was plastic, thankfully, and rolled to stop by Mum.

"A little help?" Soph spat. Mum shook her head silently as if blending into the crazy statures her family collected. "Traitor."

"What kind of irresponsible girl gets herself and mother kicked out of an entire country?"

"It's a little complicated, Nonna."

"Complicated?" Nonna's spoon whacked an end tablet—a sharp sound that made Sophia flinch inside and out. "Know what's complicated? My test results! Santin sauce recipes! Brain surgery!"

"Well, if—if you'd let me explain—"

"Explain my ass. There's no excuse for what you did. You hurt this entire family. Abandoned us! Adeline"—Nonna waved her wooden spoon so close under her granddaughter's nose that she could smell the savory marinara sauce—"you left Evasio to deal with Liana alone. His sister, big sister. Turned her back. And for what?"

"It wasn't her fault!" Soph cried. She squared her shoulders and Nonna stared up in mild surprise. Maybe due to their new height difference or because the younger blonde stood her ground, a hand tightly curled around her mother's meaty bicep. "Please. I can explain everything. If you don't want to hear it yet, we could find a hotel."

Nonna gawked. "Hotel? Nonsense. You march your asses into that kitchen and help finish the meal we've been preparing for you." Mum shared a look with Sophia, who hesitated until the matriarch added, "Now!"

How had she lived so long without her grandmother's cooking? Mum did well, but the fact remained that she lacked the years experience Nonna held. Sophia piled pasta and meats and cheeses on her plate without any regard for what touched and enjoyed how, for once, she and her cousins sat at the 'grown-up' table.

"I'm cursed with messes," Nonna said above the table chatter. Nonno, Zio Evasio and Mum all continued their own conversation, and Soph thanked years at Saisei for keeping her conditioned to navigating multiple conversations at once. "And look what's happened."

Mouth overstuffed with pasta, Sophia glanced across the table.

"You're practically bones!" Nonna continued. "Why are you so skinny?"

"She's always been that way," Dina interjected. The blonde bumped her large thigh against her older yet scrawnier cousin. "Right, Scheletro?"

Soph sucked in her pasts and swallowed. "Easy, Cosciona. I can still whip your ass."

"Gunna dish out some special moves?"

Nonna's scoff broke her granddaughters' staring contest. "Not at the table, she's not. Now, eat."

The blondes watched one another from the corner of their eyes, although obeyed. When she took a bite of brochette, Soph felt her phone vibrate.

Dude, Hoshi, that's so unfair.

She didn't bother with a reply but scanned the ceiling for any crevices where her boyfriend could hide. Ding.

I only had the snacks I packed. Some of those I lost when we switched planes in Rome!

Soph was discrete in replying under the table by pretending to stretch.

How's it my fault for falling sleep? It ain't a short flight. I'm lucky I remembered anything.

The blonde snorted then played it off by itching her nose.

"Having issues?" Adamo asked.

His cousin met his tanned features with a smirk. "Depends. We out of ravioli?"

Adamo quirked an eyebrow before placing a shallow bowel between him and Soph. 'Something's up. He's more stoic than usual. Looks at me like...' The blonde spared a glanced to her left as she piled more food onto her plate. 'He knows there's part of the story I'm keeping out.'

"Nom de Guerre was it, Sophie?"

"Yup."

Nonna's spoon tapped the table's edge. "There's someone like that who can make another disappear, send them to a different country?"

"Actually, Guerre is more of a global network than a single person, and," Soph paused to suck in the ends of her pasta, "they're scary shit."

"But you went to him—her—them—whatever," Adamo pressed.

"Desperate times, Mo. Maestro had dealt with them before when she fled China. I contacted them through her old ties."

"But not her directly."

"She...disappeared before then. I...I made a mess at Palermo; I don't blame her for not wanting to be involved."

"But you involved Zia Addie." A meatball flew across the group from the older side to the younger and it made a splat sound when it his Adamo's cheek.

"Listen, boy," Mum started, "I wasn't going to let my baby run alone. I've been involved with her since the day I pushed her out of my—"

"Who were the people we buried?" Adamo interjected. Mum recoiled towards her brother's side, and Sophia burped under her breath because of how sour her breakfast-dinner had become. "There were bodies. Near unidentifiable by the time the authorities put out the fire and cleared the wreckage. But they were staged perfectly, no one thought any different. If those weren't you, who were they?"

Soph shook her head slowly.

"Did you even care?"

"It didn't matter, Mo. Whatever I felt, feel; I had to get away. I—I couldn't let the EPF find me."

"Now they're global headquarters is in the same place you went to hide."

"I didn't follow them. They follow me."

"Who needs more drinks? Nonna slammed two full wine glasses between her grandchildren—a warning. The red liquid swayed and the blonde wasted no time chugging it. Though dry, the taste complimented the meal and helped ease her muscles.

I think your Grandma's had a few too many of those, actually. She's been out-drinking your Grandpa AND Uncle!

Figo's text danced slightly against the phone's dull backlight; however, Sophia insisted on pouring another glass. A Riesling, not the Merlot Nonna favored. Bitter old lady.

"Tesori," Nonna slurred. She had returned to her spot between Nonno and Zio Evasio, a hand on each of their hairy arms. "We missed you. And you...missed a lot."

"I'm so sorry about Zia Liana," Soph said. "I'm sorry for what I did. What I made Mum do. But my life now..."

"It can't be better than what's in Florence. Stay, Tesori. Come home."

The idea choked Sophia. A part of her wanted to agree, no doubt, but she inhaled her rosy wine in remembrance of what was plausible rather than a dream.

"I—I've made a new life in New York," she said far too softly for a proper Italian. "That's—it's..."

"Fleano and I don't have many years left."

"Don't say that, Nonna."

"People age. They die. That's life, Sophie. All a grandparent can ask for is to see that her children successful and happy."

"I am happy there," Soph whispered.

Nonna, however, shook her head of short, fluffy hair. "Dina followed your delinquent ways after you left."

Dina scoffed and pushed her thin hair back with her baseball cap. "Here we go again."

"Tagging, drunk in public, assaults with bats."

"I told you the jerks deserved it. Mo isn't innocent in all this, either."

Nonna's dark eyes found her grandson. "He straightened his life out."

"Only because you threatened not to bail his ass out anymore."

"And what's your excuse?" Adamo asked his sister.

"I'm angry at the world, duh."

"You three must grow up." Nonna set her wooden spoon beside her empty place yet it impacted the group as much as being hit. "Dina, despite your temper, you have a future in softball. You're a coveted athlete. Own it."

"It does get me all the hotties," the long-hair blonde mused.

"You got a boyfriend, Cosciona?"

Adamo leaned forward on an elbow. "Latest model's named Tony."

Dina waved a hand. "No, I got rid of Tony last week. Too clingy. It's Vinny now."

"And what makes Vinny better?"

"He's a himbo, easy to boss around."

"Oh, cool," Sophia butted in with a grin, "I have one of those."

Oi, why do I have the feeling you're talking about me?

"Dina will settle when she finds the right one," Nonna added.

"That's up for debate," Dina tacked on.

"Adamo." Attention turned to the only dark-haired member of the Santin family. "You have Febe. The greatest woman to enter your life since your mother."

"Excuse me, Nonna?"

"You know it's true, Di. She saved him. Gave him purpose. We all see that. And to know she'll be there for him makes passing easier. But Sophie..."

Nonno hummed—a deep noise. "You were with that Marco for the longest time. I hated the weasel."

"Well, I liked him," Soph said. "But it didn't turn out."

"I get the feeling that isn't because he's 'dead'," Adamo pressed.

"You've had an unsteady life," Nonno continued. "Your parents always working. What happened to Cosima. The move." Mum looked down as her father glanced her way then back at Sophia. "Don't let that scare you. You're twenty-eight; you should consider adding to our family."

"I am part of a family. The Santins and...the ones from New York."

Adamo all but growled, "You mean the ones whose names you can't even tell us."

"I told you, it's complicated."

"Mo, Mo," Nonno reached over the cold food as if he could push his grandson back with the arm he waved, "let this be for now. Addie and Sophie have traveled a long way. They should get proper rest."

"Dina." One command from Nonna made the younger blonde leave her seat and follow her grandmother up the chipped stairs that lead to the back rooms.

"I—I'll start putting things away," Sophia said.

"You sure you aren't still hungry?" Nonno asked.

"Positive."

"We made all your favorites."

"And they'll be good later, too. I got this."

"Forget it." Zio Evasio shooed her away as he picked up some dishes, but his niece stole the leftovers with the ease of an acrobat.

"I can do my part, thanks," she added.

'Besides, if Figo doesn't eat soon, my phone won't ever stop vibrating.'

Sophia headed for the kitchen instinctually since it had been the first route she learned as a child. Something rustled inside, scraping, so the blonde clanked a metal pan against the brick wall to warn her boyfriend company was on their way. Adamo's clicking shoes weren't far behind and by the time his cousin began searching for containers for smuggled food, he stood behind her.

"You don't bother hiding that something's on your mind, do you, Mo?"

"Most of our family isn't too perceptive."

"I'm okay with that."

"Me too; it's been easier to hide what my real job is."

"What? A male dancer?" Containers in hand, the blonde rose to meet Adamo's hard stare. "Woah, serious face."

"This isn't a joke."

"I can tell."

"Will you listen? I know what's really been going on in New York."

Soph stuffed several scoops of ravioli into one container and brochette into the other, voice even, "What can you know?"

"Everything. How you took up vigilante work again. The Davuu Stone. The Island. What they did do Marco. Who saved you."

Her throat dried faster than any Merlot could as she struggled to swallow, whispering, "Ho..how?"

Adamo reached into his back pocket with great grimness. The golden badge he pulled out stopped his cousin from breathing and made her regret ever agreeing to let Figo join her in Italy.