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Declan doesn’t blink, his gaze sharp. “The Ferryman has heard you’ve assumed control of the McKenzies. He’s come to collect your soul.”
“If it’s him, why go after Louisa? I was there too. He could have just had that bitch kill me.”
“Maybe he doesn’t just want you dead. Maybe he wants to make you suffer. What better way to do that than by going after what you want most?”
I face the window, staring at the garish brown curtains. Then I glance around the room, noting the clashing design elements. Bryan and James McKenzie bought this house thirty years ago, after they broke away from a gang in Chicago and started their own here.
While they thankfully hired a professional interior designer for the rest of the house, the study was all them and it shows.
Hard as they were, I miss the men who practically raised me after my father died. The way Mam described it, she returned home with her tail between her legs, begging her two older brothers for shelter. They took one look at me, saw the McKenzie gene was strong in my blood, and immediately let us in.
I don’t resent them for their heavy-handed tactics. The world we live in requires I have a tough skin. They did what was needed to survive.
Growing up, my uncles were bigger than life. Superheroes. When they brought me into the fold and officially made me part of the McKenzies, I saw they truly were bold and brave.
But no amount of boldness would have saved them from their past.
A few months ago, Giuseppe Tadesco, the Don over Chicago, was taken out. The day we heard of his death, Uncle Bryan and Uncle James locked themselves in this study for an entire day.
Ignorantly, I assumed they were simply discussing a way to take advantage of the situation. But they were probably actually discussing the details of Tadesco’s death. Of how he was found in a dirty hotel room in Jersey, splayed out naked, his gut sliced from groin to sternum. And the most disturbing of all, the 2009 pennies placed over his eyes.
Perhaps if anyone else had been in the room with them, we could have formulated a plan to keep them safe. However, Bryan and James were proud men, and sharing a sin from their past, a sin they knew would one day come back to haunt them, wasn’t how they operated.
Not long after that night, Uncle Bryan was found dead, just as Tadesco had been.
Uncle James took over the family then, appointing me his underboss. But he still didn’t share with me what could have been a lifesaving secret. Whether it was a lack of trust or simple shame in the role he’d played, I have no idea. He remained quiet even when Tony Sinacore, then godfather of the ruling family in New York, made the first connection between the murders and a man named Stephen Black. That connection cost him his life too.
Our family was shaken to its core when Uncle James followed them to the grave in the same way. The shock and uncertainty was so great that we remained in a period of suspension, where no dared make a move to take over.
It wasn’t until Joaquin Gianni from New Jersey was killed that I first heard from Luca Sinacore, Tony’s younger brother. After he took over thefamiglia, he called a meeting to warn those of us at risk about this new threat we were all aware of but couldn’t see.
And I finally learned the secret my uncles kept from us for so long.
“Have you heard of the Ferryman?” he asked as we gathered around the dining room table in his home, Briar House. “He worked under Tadesco in Chicago for years, growing his power right under his nose. They called him the Ferryman because he was a smuggler. The mark he left on anyone he killed was—”
“Pennies,” Noah Esposito, the new heir to the Gianni throne in New Jersey, finished for him.
Stephen eventually grew too powerful, infiltrating territories and incurring the wrath of the players he affected.
Francesco Gianni, Giuseppe Tadesco, Sergio Ramos, Sean Murphy, Clive Maxton, and Uncle Bryan. In 2009, those six ruthless men, all heads of criminal organizations, came together to take him out.
Six months ago, the killings began. The men involved in Stephen’s murder became targets. All were found with 2009 pennies over their eyes, a clue as to why it was happening and who was responsible. Anyone who dared to replace them was killed in the same manner.
“If Stephen Black is dead, who’s killing Dons?” Esposito asked then.
“His son,” Gunn Sinclair, Luca’s right-hand man, replied. “Gideon Black.”
Uncle James was taken out when he replaced Uncle Bryan. Joaquin Gianni was murdered for replacing Francesco. Then Renzo for taking over after Joaquin’s death.
Attacks were mounted against Noah Esposito when he first took over the Giannis after Renzo died. But by then, he’d become part of the Sinacore Alliance.
The same happened with Arran Maxton, the underworld king of Philadelphia. He took over Clive’s businesses, going against the Ferryman’s explicit warnings not to.
But just like in 2009, Luca Sinacore called for the heads of the criminal organizations involved to come together and fight. With our support, Noah and Arran were able to keep their positions and power.
Now it’s my turn. Which means Declan could be right. The Ferryman has heard I’ve assumed control of the McKenzies and he’s come to collect my soul. And what better way to do that than through Lou?
I lift my gaze to Declan. Though he’s staring right back, I can tell he’s somewhere else, the wheels in his head turning.
