Chapter 37 Cesare
Every muscle in my back ached. Some from the hits my sons gave me and some just from old age.
Fuck, I'd really lost touch in the last few years.
How hadn't I seen it coming? Pietro never made it a secret that he thought he could do a better job, but to betray me?
We were cousins and grew up together. Our fathers were rivals, which meant we became rivals.
In the end, I thought that childish thinking had been left behind years ago.
Goes to show you don't know someone, even family. Question was, who was in on it? Was Rocky? Santiago? I didn't want to doubt my best friend or my other cousin, but everyone was a potential threat now.
I’ll find out soon.
Enzo dropped into the grave, and I eyed him wearily as he moved behind me. Was this it?
Cold metal slipped into my bound hands. Along with a blade.
"You can't get yourself out, you won't make it," Enzo said.
My lips curled up in a grin around the gag. He'd repeated the words to me that I'd told them in a few of my survival training sessions. Who the fuck did he think came up with this?
I jerked my head in understanding. He climbed out, grumbling under his breath.
"When we're done, you can wash it all off," Benito offered.
"There is nothing here. The cabin has no running water. I told you we needed a better location. The spare clothes and wipes I have stored won't be enough." Enzo sounded annoyed. "This is messy, Benito."
He wasn't wrong. Sloppy work led to mistakes, but sometimes a man had to do what he had to do.
Benito grunted.
Fuck, these boys were mine. They had my traits down to their mannerisms.
A twig snapping cracked through the otherwise silent woods. The tension thickened in the air to the point of choking. Sweat beaded along the nape of my neck. My heart rate steadied as I settled into that calm place that came before bloodshed and screaming.
"Shit." Pietro's voice could be just heard over the rushing of my blood.
Come closer and get fucked up.
"Benito, it's been a while." The cheeriness in Pietro's voice felt fake. He never did like my boys. Especially the fact that I'd appointed Benito my heir. He wasn't full Italian, and to them, that was a sin on its own.
"Uncle Pietro." Benito cleared his throat. "You brought a lot of men."
"You sounded desperate on the phone." He sighed. "What kind of uncle would I be if I didn't come and help?"
"You're on his side," Benito pointed out.
Pietro laughed. "Well, nipote, you know how these things go. I wished you no harm."
"You're willing to cross him to help?"
Pietro tsked. "No, I didn't say that, but I know your old man; we're more like brothers than cousins. He wouldn't like it if I ignored his kids."
"He wouldn't like a traitor even less," Enzo pointed out.
"That is true. How's the mud treating you, little Enzo? Still cry when a few specs touch you?"
My hand tightened around my weapons before I forced myself to relax. But I would remember that shit.
"Benito, why'd you call me out here?" Pietro asked.
"This," my oldest said. Dirt rained down into the hole next to me.
I slowed my breathing down and stayed as still as I could.
"Cazzo. Sei stato tu, spietato bastardo." There was a hint of laughter in his voice. "Congratulations, Benito. To think you finally took down that old dog." He whistled low. "I only wish I'd been able to see it happen." He cleared his throat.
"I need your help getting everyone loyal to him in line," Benito said.
The voices in the back of my head whispered this was real. He was going to bury me alive and rule once I was out of the way. It’s what I would have done.
"Your dad has a lot of people; it won't be easy. A bit bloody, but nothing I can't handle," Pietro promised.
"No one can know I was the one to kill him. It would tear the family apart."
Pietro hummed. "That's true." He snapped his fingers.
"Your father's judgment started slipping in his old age.
He was messing with prostituta maschio." He clicked his tongue.
"Lost his mind. What man gives up pussy?
" He cleared his throat. "No offense. I've been told in your case there wasn't an option. "
I flipped the knife around and cut through the ties in one fell swoop just as the first round of gunshots went off.
I lifted my head and stood as Pietro was kicked into the grave next to me.
There was no hesitation as I brought the butt of my gun down on his nose first, cracking a smile at the sickening crunch that blessed my ear drums. I slammed it down again against his temple three more times.
Pietro's body went slack, and I tilted my head back.
"You didn't kill him, right?" Enzo asked. There was blood splattered all over his face and shirt. His glasses were gone and the grin on his face probably matched my own. I spat the gag out and worked my jaw a few times. My mouth felt like I'd swallowed a handful of cotton balls.
"No, he's passed out. How's it going up there?"
There were a few grunts that followed my question before all else went quiet. Enzo disappeared for a second before coming back with a dismembered arm in his hand.
"I'm not grabbing the arm to get out of here," I said.
Enzo glanced down and tossed it on top of Pietro. "That would be inefficient. This whole thing is a mess." He passed me a few zip ties, and I used them to tie Pietro's wrists and ankles together.
With the help of Enzo, I got out of the fucking hole. I wasn't normally one to rush things, but I wanted out of the damn grave. Shit was getting to my head in there.
"You good?" Benito asked. He had the least amount of blood on him. He passed his pack of cigarettes over, and I took one and passed it to Enzo.
Giancarlo was bringing down his hammer on some guy's head. I couldn't recognize him even if I squinted hard enough. Gianpaolo was right next to him, swinging his bat.
"Where's your brother?" I asked.
Light flared to life to our right, and we turned to see a man screaming and running while on fire.
His arms were raised above his head as he sprinted through the woods.
Benito slipped a knife from his pant leg and threw it right in the middle of the guy's chest. He fell to his knees, his screams dying off.
"Shit, my bad," Blake rushed out. He ripped off his jacket and held it above his head. His eyes glazed over as he stared at the fire.
"Fucking firebug," I muttered. "Put the damn thing out before we have the news out here reporting on a forest fire."
"Shit, right." Blake smothered and slapped the flames away. The smell of blood and gunpowder was overrun by the scent of burning flesh and burnt hair.
The twins fist bumped and laughed at who the fuck knew what. They were always creepy, reading each other's thoughts and shit. Pretty sure they were possessed from the moment they were born.
I handed over two cigarettes the moment they were close enough. Gin and Paolo both took one. Blake jogged over to us, and I offered him one.
"No, I got the good shit right here." Blake held up a perfectly rolled joint.
"Was that all of them?" Benito asked.
"Yeah, I checked. There was only one left by the car. The other four followed up with him. Don't know if more are coming." Blake bounced on his toes.
To be young.
"Were any of them Rocky?" I asked.
"Nope, would have been still fighting if he was." Gin groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's like taking down a fucking bear. Still remember sparring with that bastard back in the day."
The ball in the middle of my chest eased slightly. It didn't mean Rocky hadn't betrayed me as well, but just that he didn't come along. I tried to remind myself of that.
"We need answers," I pointed out.
All six of us looked down at the grave where Pietro now laid.
"I can get them," Enzo said.
I was certain he could get them. Enzo was proficient. "We can all do it."
"Like some fucked-up father–sons torture bonding?" Gin joked.
I shrugged. Why not?
"That's—I want to say fucked up and weird, but I'm down," Gin said.
"I owe him for my girls. Creepy fuck had them followed and nearly snatched, all for this? I'm getting a few good swings in," Paolo voiced.
Benito nodded. "Same."
My youngest son looked between all of us. "Well, fuck it, I guess I'm in. I'm not missing out on this." He took a big hit on his joint and groaned as he held it in. "I'll think of something."
"Not it on dragging his ass out of there," Giancarlo shouted.
Each of my sons touched their noses. What were they, children? "I’ll throw my back out if I try,” I grunted.
"Oh, come the fuck on," Gin whined. “I claimed not it. Nothing is sacred anymore.”
"Gin and Paolo, get him out," Benito said.
"Fuck, pulling rank ain’t fair, and old man, you’re cheating," Gin grumbled as he dropped down into the grave.
Paolo sighed. "Why am I always punished because of his shinanigans?"
"We're twins." Gin said, touching his chest with a hurt expression on his face. “We do everything together.”
I shook my head, rubbing the back of my neck. A part of me wanted to call out for Rafael, but he needed to stay hidden just in case Pietro had more reinforcements coming.
Blake nudged me. "He's in the trunk of your car."
How did he get the keys? I patted my pockets and shook my head. Rafael was sly when he wanted to be. I'd have to punish him later. Knowing he was safe eased the remaining tension from between my shoulders.
"Fuck, heavy sack of shit," the twins grumbled as they pulled out Pietro. They argued back and forth. It was like when they were kids all over again.
"Who has rope?" I asked.
"Benito knows how to make one out of intestines," Gin offered.
The was fuck was wrong with them? "Where did I go wrong?" All five sets of eyes landed on me, and I lifted my hands. "Don't start. Tie him to the tree."