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It was never supposed to be me in the first place. I was the youngest of the grandsons. First, it was supposed to be my father, but he died; then it was supposed to be my brother, and well, he turned out to be an even bigger sacrifice than the guy currently pointing a gun at my head—execution style. And then, it was just life. Training. Knowing that you have one job, and this is it. This was my job.
This guy’s clearly watched way too many mafia movies, the ones that get it wrong. How was he even made? Was he a captain? Foot soldier?
“Nice day outside.” I crossed my arms and gave him a smug grin; it always unarmed the dumb ones because they expect me to look afraid. “You always tuck your shirts in, or is today just my lucky day to see you all prim and proper? Wow!” I leaned forward. “Not even a speck of blood, how disappointing.”
“Oh, this old thing?” He sneered and pointed at his white v-neck shirt. “I just like to see how much blood I spill—I get off on it. You would too, if you knew how to use your equipment.”
Was that truly the best he could come up with? My equipment? “You do realize who I am?”
A slight tremble started in his fingertips as he switched the way he stood, right foot went behind, left foot came forward, he was mentally losing his footing as well as physically. Interesting, I thought Ax was different. Then again, I heard having kids does things to the way you perform an assassination. Apparently, love makes you grow a heart? I wouldn’t know.
“You may be something overseas, but here?” He sneered. “You’re nothing but a made man looking for a way out the way I see it—you’re weak.”
“Weakness is in staying exactly where you’re at.” Lethal conviction dripped from every one of my words. “Only the strong know when it’s time to walk away and have the balls to actually do it.”
“So you say.” He pressed the mouth of the gun against my temple harder as if that would intimidate me more. Sorry, but the gun’s already there. Pressing it harder doesn’t make me more scared, just more angry. “No matter how many pretty words you use to try to convince your grandfather that this is the best option, the Capo will only ever see you as abandoning your blood. It’s as simple as that. You’ll be labeled a traitor.”
“We’ll see.” I licked my lips and then shoved the gun away from me. “I get it. You’ll kill me if I pull a weapon. I’m not a child.”
“Because we normally hold kids at gunpoint?” He rolled his eyes. “This is so you remember who we are, so you remember that you’re nothing but shit beneath your Armani—”
“Enough, Ax.” A voice sounded to my right. “Why don’t you go grab a drink.”
“I’d rather stay here.” His voice was calm again.
I lifted my head toward the man in front of me.
“Wasn’t a suggestion.” He grinned and then turned to me. “I’m Andrei—”
“I know who you are,” I hissed. “The Russian.”
“Tsk, tsk.” He winked. “So much hostility and I thought I was the angry one.” He shook his head as if what he said was fucking hilarious and then opened the metal door. “Let’s go see what they’ve decided about your future.”
“You voted?” I moved behind him.
“I did.”
That was it.
Just an affirmative that he did.
Shit, I hated them so much that I was willing to do anything to get away. Anything.
It had been my life, in my blood since I was a kid.
And now?
I just really wanted to walk into a room without looking for would-be assassins; I would kill to enjoy a hamburger in a public place without packing a weapon.
The room was dark. Tex Campisi, the relative godfather of the bunch, or the Capo dei Capi, was sitting behind a massive desk, hands behind his head, shit-eating grin directed right at me. Perfect. “You’ve killed a lot of people.”
“Yup.” I crossed my arms. Was that it? I’ve killed a lot of people? Did the man need a calculator?
“Deadly,” Andrei said to my right. The guy who had escorted me in, who was now the head of the Sinacore Family,my Family.
“Useful.” Phoenix Nicolasi tapped a black folder against his denim-clad thigh and shared a look with Nixon Abandonato and Dante, the new Alfero leader. Shit, all these guys did was just take things over and rule the world, leaving every pure-blooded Italian behind, not that they weren’t, but it still felt somehow wrong.
It was as if they thought the world owed them everything, and they deserved to take it from everyone who had to fight harder for it. At least, that was how I saw it.
