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I wrapped my arms around his neck and nodded.
“No more crying. Sadness and defeat don’t exist for us anymore.” He wiped my tears. “We’re not waiting for your back to be against the wall. We will unleash the fire on whoever stands in our way from getting to the kingdom. Do you hear me?”
I inhaled deeply, hardening my heart as I met his blazing blue eyes. “Yes.”
Gavin then took my hand and led me back into our temporary haven.
Chapter 11
Gavin
Centering myself in the middle of the bedroom on the floor, I fought hard to clear my mind and heart. I needed to follow the advice I’d given Storm. Needed to redirect the unending hurt to a place deep within. The same place that allowed me to kill with no remorse. The savage part of me. I would be face to face with Brocco again, and I would kill him. I couldn’t have remorse or regret. It had to be done. He’d made me an unknowing enemy, and I would return the favor.
Storm had fallen into a deep, fitful sleep, slaying the demons in her sleep who would reappear when we returned to New York. She was a warrior to her core, and she would prevail. Revenge would fuel the fire in her belly. Unlike Storm, the magnitude of my brother’s betrayal fueled confusion, disappointment, and regret. Rage took a backseat because the brother I knew had been my protector and best friend. We were brothers by blood and friends by choice. People often thought we were twins instead of the two-year difference. You never saw one of us without the other. I knew his shortcomings and covered for him, believing no one knew. My rise in power indicated that my father knew Brocco wouldn’t make a good Don, and instead of teaching and strengthening him, our father gave me the throne. The son who didn’t have to be taught that all decisions have consequences and cannot be simply made on emotions.
Yet and still, Brocco had his strengths. Most of all, his loyalty and devotion to me. Mama used to tease and say that though he could barely walk, he would carry me around. My parents would follow close behind him to make sure he didn’t drop me because they knew they couldn’t take me away until he was ready. When we were young, he swore to always fight for me and never let anyone hurt me.
Once, when I was ten years old, and he was going on thirteen, he beat a boy with a baseball bat defending me. Colion, an older teenager whose father had more power than ours, kept punching me for kicks. I did nothing because I knew the rules. He hit me in the arm and chest. Colion then bopped me so hard in my mouth that my lips swelled. The other kids and parents pretended nothing had happened because everyone was afraid of Colion’s father. I refused to cry, though I wanted to, and I refused to tell my big brother because I didn’t want him to get in trouble. I sat alone while the other boys prepared for a pick-up baseball game at one of the Commission gatherings. Brocco had come up to me asking what was wrong, but I kept saying nothing.
He dragged me up and made me play baseball. When it was my turn at bat, Colion was the pitcher, and I was determined to hit a home run on his pitch. After a couple of hits that went far but in foul territory, it was evident I had a powerful hit. Colion wound the pitch and threw it directly at my head. I ducked at the last minute, and it only nicked me. Had the ball hit, I would’ve been unconscious or seriously injured. Everyone around started yelling at Colion, and before I could react, Brocco took my bat and charged Colion. Hit him square in the nose, and blood gushed from his broken nose, and then my brother slung and hit his shoulder. We all heard the pop. Colion went down, and my father and I rushed to Brocco before he struck again.
While we were struggling to remove him from the park, he yelled, “Don’t you ever put your motherfucking hands on my brother again, or I swear I’ll fucking kill you.”
The commission owed my father a favor, and my brother suffered no consequences. Most families out there that day understood why Brocco defended me. An embarrassed and arrogant Colion threatened retaliation for his disrespect. Five months later, Colion was found dead with a knife in his heart. I had no doubt my brother killed him because no one ever hurts Gavin DeLuca.
I opened my eyes.
No one ever hurts Gavin DeLuca.
Not even my brother.
Feeling the fire I needed to evoke the beast in me, I rose and rolled my neck and shoulders. Stretching out the kinks and gearing myself to talk to him. I picked up my cell on the nearby table, walked to my patio, and called him.
“Lil Bro, where are you? I hope you’re out of the country by now?”
“No. I’m coming back. I need to clear the St. James’s name.”
“What the fuck do you mean? Xavier is dead, and Pierre is long gone. It’s about dividing Manhattan and Harlem now.”
“I killed Brazino.”
Dead silence loomed on the other end.
“I went to his shop, killed him and every motherfucker in the shop. I’m not a coward or a punk, and I won’t hide behind my wife’s family. I’m coming back and facing the commission.”
“Why would you do that? You have money stashed everywhere and can start over. Coming back here will only start a war.”
“I thought you weren’t scared of a war? The motherfuckers tried to kill me...they would’ve killed you.” I pointed out as I bit through that vicious lie.
“Brazino is gone. No one else is after you. The problem we had is over. You and Storm can live happily ever after on some island or back in Italy. I got the business handled.”
“I’m coming back and standing before the commission. I don’t run,” I reminded.
He finally relented, “When?”
“You’ll be the first to know. And Big Bro, Brazino told me he didn’t order the hit.”
“The fuck? Of course, he did. He was just trying to save his life. He’s lying.” His voice faltered at the end.
