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Several men have gathered in the courtyard by now. Vlad and the rest of my guards stand behind me, an unshakeable force, ready to fight at the slightest hint of trouble. The somberness from the funeral disappears, replaced by a the threat of violence in the air.
“You’re not allowed in here anymore, Ramirez.”
I arch an eyebrow. “On whose orders?”
“Mine,” he snarls.
“You have no right to bar me from the Don’s home.”
“The Don is dead,” he states, and I catch a flicker of grief in his brown eyes.
Despite everything, Valerio was his best friend. It must have hurt to lose him. Even though he is acting like a complete fucker right now.
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“With his death, I’ll assume command. After all, I was his underboss.”
A wry laugh escapes me. “It’s almost like you want me to send you to an early grave, Sebastian. You have no right to assume command.”
He scoffs. “And you think you do, Ramirez?”
“I’ve been at his side for most of my life, loyal to him. He wanted me to become Don after his death. That is something you and other members of the council heard several times. Valerio trusted me. His last words were to me,” I state.
Sebastian cocks his head to the side. “And what pray tell, were those last words?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I toss back.
His brown eyes turn furious, and he moves forward like he’s about to punch me. Vlad shifts subtly to my front, halting Sebastian’s approach. Sebastian might be a big guy as well, but Vlad’s a fucking giant. One that’s very skilled in combat. It would be stupid to provoke him.
His eyes flick from my guard back to me. My expression is still as steady as it was when we began this conversation. I stare at Sebastian like he’s nothing more than a pesky fly. He looks at me like he would murder me the first chance he gets. And I know without a doubt that’s true.
“You will never be Don!” he spits.
I tilt my shoulder up in a lazy shrug. “Who’s going to stop me?”
Sebastian’s lips tilt up in a cruel smirk. “A few battles won and you think of yourself as invincible, boy. When in truth, you’re nothing. Simply a bastard, an orphan with no roots. You have no place among us. It’ll be a cold, hard day in hell the day I subject myself to your rule.”
I flick an eyebrow up. His words are like a cold hard lash against my chest, but I pretend they don’t bother me. At any rate, they’re fucking hypocritical and wrong. Like me, Sebastian is also a bastard, an orphan with no roots. He might claim to be Italian, but there’s no way of proving that.
And I’m not a fucking bastard. I had parents, and I had roots. They might have long disappeared, but I had them.
“You will submit, Sebastian. Or you’ll die. It’s as easy as that,” I state.
He glares, swearing at me in Italian. “Fuck you, Ramirez.”
His words are strangely reminiscent of the text Aurora sent. And now that I’m thinking about that, I’m thinking about her. She’s the next step now that Valerio’s funeral is over. My next step. Sebastian turns around to leave, his men rallying around him.
I can’t resist the urge to get in one last jab.
“Hey, Seb,” I call out. “You want to know what Valerio’s last words were? He said to tell you that you’re a little shit.”
Those words are the trigger I knew they’d be. He advances at me, his men crying out in outrage. My men rally around me as well. Sebastian throws the first punch at Vlad’s face. My guard’s face reels back once before he shoves Sebastian. And that’s all it takes for pandemonium to break out.
I take a few steps backward, watching as fistfights break out between the men. No one brings out any guns. In respect of Valerio, I’m sure. Killing someone mere hours after the Don’s death would be distasteful.
I feel his presence at my side before I even look at him. Adrian has been doing a good job of staying away from me these past few days. Maybe because he knew I was liable to shoot him for the stunt he pulled with Aurora. And for placing a spy among my men. I found the asshole the day after I realized he had one. And then I killed him and shipped Adrian his eye.
Adrian currently has a placating expression on his face and I arch an eyebrow at his hands, which are raised in surrender.
