Michael shook his head, a futile attempt to ward off the sounds and images which, even after all that he'd orchestrated this evening still gnawed at his soul. He truly could not recall having witnessed a more wrenching sight than that of his daughter as she looked up into his eyes, pleading for mercy. Only to find none.
Or so she thought.
Flashback...
Giovanni bowed his head and concentrated on the image of Sabrina.
The faintest aroma of her perfume wafted to his nostrils and a peace came over him. What more could he ask. His last thought, his last breath would be filled with her.
His heart pounded wildly within his chest, the intensity near thunderous. It was as if with each beat, the aroma of her was magnified. He was thankful for that. So thankful that he registered not the feel of the gun's barrel pressed to his temple. Again, her scent washed over him. So real, so powerful it was as if she was right there beside him. In his mind's eye, she was.
He was free now. His body merely a tool used to restrain that which was now unbound.
His soul.
He closed his eyes and inhaled. The fragrance was so very much like the woman to whom it belonged. Intense. Hypnotic. Piquant. Sabrina DeLane Corleone, he knew with all that was within him, was all those things. And more.
At the thought of her, he placed his hand to his chest. Silently he prayed the calm that had now settled within him would eventually claim her. For he knew how she would mourn him--in the same manner she loved. Hard. It was without a trace of arrogance that he dared to venture Sabrina's grief would be something she would bear for the rest of her life.
He'd borne witness to the silent agony she'd endured when they had been ordered to never see each other again. And although in time she learned to adapt to life without him, he knew that inside a part of her would never be the same. She had not been broken. No, what she'd been left as was far worse.
Damaged.
Again, the soft, calming fragrance washed over him. It conjured up images of her clinging to him tightly, with such fervor it felt as if she sought to touch, no, steal his very soul. Little did she know she had. She would never know how the tears she'd shed as her body slowly surrendered to his, to his will, had done far more than saturate him in the physical sense. On this night, the tears like her scent were seemingly etched into his very flesh.
And soul.
It was that realization that resulted in Michael's presence among Sonny and Neri. It was the sole reason he'd done the unthinkable:
He rescinded the order for death.
True, he knew he could live with the blood of Giovanni Tieri on his hands.
The same, however, could not be said to hold true when it came to the destruction of the soul and spirit of his daughter, Sabrina.