Thirty-Four
Sonny Corinthos awoke with a start when the empty shot glass he held thudded onto the carpeted penthouse floor. His bloodshot eyes slowly surveyed the room as if he searched for something he knew he would not find but still hoped to anyway.
The penthouse was immaculate. There were no toys strewn about the room, or crumpled articles of Carly's clothing draped all over the furniture. Sonny had spent the early evening removing all traces of the family he'd sent away.
And still the nightmare was real. Whether asleep or awake the facts remained the same. Sonny was now alone in the world.
“Man the f*ck up!” Sonny chided himself, citing an expression he'd heard in a recent motion picture. In sending Carly, Michael and Jason to the safe house, Sonny had made the best possible decision for them. Dwelling on it would only increase the pain of their separation.
No, what Sonny needed to focus on was Anthony Sorrell. The rival mob boss had made no move to intercept or detain any of the five limousines that departed from the penthouse garage. Only Jason knew which car transported Sonny's family to safety.
Automatically, Sonny's thoughts were drawn back to the subject of his family. He glanced out of the bulletproof window at the rising sun and wondered if Carly and Michael slept peacefully safe beneath the watchful eye of his friend and ‘brother', Jason Morgan. In the days to come would Michael even miss Sonny's presence? Would Carly?
Such questions saddened the mob boss. Sonny wiped a hand across his brow in an attempt to erase the disturbing thoughts from his mind. It was too late for second thoughts anyway. Even if he wanted to call Carly and Michael back to his side, he could not. His family was in Jason's hands now.
Sonny would have to trust that Jason's protection would be enough.
