Wolfe
“I’ve managed to pull two guys,” Leo said when he entered the office. “Used to work at the docks, so they know how to look the other way when they spot contraband in the fishing boats.”
“I said thirty,” Don Mancini said, like Leo wasn’t his own son.
“And thirty is a lot of fucking guys,” Leo snapped. “You expect me to pull that out of my ass—”
“Find the guys, Leo.”
Leo released a furious growl under his breath before he marched out.
“I’ve got a long list of favors to call in,” I said. “If you need help to find more men. I also know a lot of people.”
He was seated behind the desk, leaning back slightly in his old armchair. “I don’t want anyone associated with Cosa Nostra.”
“I know people outside of that. There are more than just the main gangs, the little factions on the street handling minor operations, small distribution drops, et cetera. I have some old friends in Florence who might be interested in the position as well.”
“When were you in Florence?”
“Don Russo sent me there for a couple years. This is before the Skull King gained as much power as he has now.”
Don Mancini considered the offer in silence for a while, shifting his chair forward eventually and moving his elbows to the surface of the desk. “Do it. Because I don’t think Leo is going to deliver.”
To be fair, it was hard to find good guys in a bad business. “I’m on it.”
“Are you free tonight?”
It was a weird question and one he’d never asked me before.
“Got a job for me?” I sat at the edge of the couch, knees wide apart and my body slouched into the cushion.
I’d spent my entire day at Port Gela yesterday, and I wasn’t interested in doing something like that again so soon.
I’d had dinner with Francesca, made love, and then went straight to bed.
I just didn’t have the energy for anything else.
“Meet here at eight.”
“Alright.” I didn’t ask questions, but I sure wanted to.
It was odd he didn’t explain himself since he was pretty direct, but out of fear of looking suspicious, I chose not to challenge him.
A little part of me was worried this had something to do with Francesca, but why would he schedule his tirade ahead of time?
I went home at the end of the day and showered for the evening. I wouldn’t have time to see Francesca beforehand, and I was afraid stopping by would be a stupid move when I didn’t know Don Mancini’s intentions.
I returned to the winery at eight on the dot.
Drove past the guys standing outside the villa smoking cigars in the bright exterior light before I parked my Range Rover in the parking lot in the rear.
I walked over and saw Leo leaning against the side of the house with a cigar sitting between his lips.
Andre was there too, regarding me in silence.
Some of Don Mancini’s other trusted cronies were around as well, like Ricardo, Enzo, and Gabriele.
I did a quick scan of them all, unable to spot their intentions.
The air wasn’t hostile, but there was a definite tension that I could smell like rotting flesh.
Maybe Don Mancini knew I was screwing his daughter. Maybe they intended to give me death by a thousand cuts.
I hoped not because I would have to annihilate all of them. Francesca would lose her brother, her father, and all the people who supported her.
It’d be a damn shame.
The staredown continued before the front door opened and closed. Don Mancini appeared, walking down the stairs with Elio behind him. There was a heavy silence as he made his way to the bottom step then came down the path to join us.
All the men straightened and put out their cigars.
Don Mancini walked straight up to me, a couple inches shorter than I was but with the aura of a powerful man who could get shit done.
He wasn’t brutal like Don Russo and other men I worked for in the past, but he wasn’t meek either.
He walked up to me and stared me down for what felt like a solid minute.
I stared back, welcoming the surge of adrenaline like an old friend. Danger was comfort. Fear was excitement. I was twisted and backward and simply strange.
“Come with me.” He stepped forward and drew close, giving me a pat on the shoulder along the way.
The rest of the guys moved to the table that was placed there. Wooden sticks were lying there.
Where the hell was this going?
When they grabbed them and lit the tips with their lighters, I realized they were torches, their bright fire immediately lighting up the surrounding area. The flames flickered and danced, and they all faced me and waited for me to follow Don Mancini.
I turned my back to them and saw Don Mancini standing there waiting for me to join him. I came to his side, and he continued forward, walking down the dirt road between the buildings farther out toward the vineyards and olive trees on the property.
Don Mancini didn’t say a word, our surroundings lit by the torches as he moved forward.
I began to understand our destination, the enormous oak tree where I’d hung our enemies and let their blood stain the ground when I slaughtered them.
The guys made a circle around the tree, the light illuminating the branches and the leaves, casting shadows upward toward the dark sky and highlighting all the details of the massive trunk and the roots that made the ground uneven at the base.
Don Mancini stared at the thick base of the tree for a long moment before he turned to me. “This tree has been here for five hundred years. I had a botanist come out and date it for me about ten years ago.”
I shifted my gaze to the tree and examined the bark, noticing the carvings there for the first time. There were initials carved into the bark and deep penetrations from a knife, like someone, or several someones, had stabbed their blades throughout the years.
“Everyone who’s been in this family has left their mark on this mighty oak.
” He moved forward and traced his fingers over initials that read G.M.
“My father Gianni.” He moved to another part of the tree.
“My uncle Renato.” He went across the tree and pointed out the initials and shared who they were.
“This one is Dario Mancini…my great-great-grandfather and the man who I believe started this organization when people used horses instead of cars, who started a criminal organization without phones or the internet.” He removed his hand and stepped back, looking at all the names.
“My son’s mark is here…my mark is here. And everyone who’s bled for this family is here, all those who became one of us, who became part of the family.
” He examined the trunk a moment longer before he turned to look at me.
“I distrusted your Cosa Nostra roots in the beginning, but you were one of us the second you set foot on my land. It just took a while for me to see that. You’ve bled for us.
You’ve protected us. You’ve served this family like it’s your own—and tonight, I’d like to make that official. Welcome to the Tanto Syndicate.”
I wasn’t an emotional guy, but the surprising gesture caught me in the headlights.
I’d been accepted in Cosa Nostra from birth, felt like I belonged there without a hint of doubt.
But then they all turned their backs on me within the snap of a finger.
I chose the Mancini family because I respected their ethics and found their underdog status endearing.
But the real reason I busted my ass for this family was for one person.
Francesca Mancini.
Every day, I worked to earn her. Worked for her father’s favor and her brother’s approval. Became the most irreplaceable guy on the crew so Don Mancini would know how well I could care for his daughter if he were to give her to me.
And with that thought, the waves of guilt rushed over me and nearly made me drown.
I should have told him sooner.
Now I was fucked.
Don Mancini reached for his knife at his belt. Pulled it out of the sheath and extended it to me, holding it by the tip of the blade. “One of us.”
In unison, all the men around the tree said, “One of us.”
I stared at the extended hilt for a heavy moment before I grabbed it, waiting for him to let go before I pulled it close. It was an old knife, dull from carving into the tree for generations, made from an old wood that was nearly rotten.
I took a breath as I stared at the gray trunk of the old tree, about to desecrate it with a name that didn’t deserve to be there. I’d betrayed Don Mancini by not telling him about Francesca sooner, and I was tempted to tell him now, even if it led to my flesh being carved instead of the tree.
But I didn’t.
I approached the tree and started to carve my initials. The knife was old and dull, so it was hard to make the mark into a trunk that had been here long before me and would be here long after me. But I managed to cut into the bark enough to make the initials permanent.
Don Mancini stared at what I carved. “C.B.” His eyes flicked to me and silently asked for clarification.
Wolfe was a name that Cosa Nostra had somewhat affectionately given to me.
I hunted down all our enemies until every single one was dead.
Even when they surrendered and pleaded for mercy, I still came for them.
When they successfully left Sicily and made it to America or Hong Kong or wherever the fuck they ran to hide, I hunted them there too.
There was only one way to escape—and that was death by my hand.
I hadn’t used my real name in a long time, so long that most people who’d ever known it had probably forgotten it by now. “Cesare Barsetti.”
It was late when I walked in the door.
Francesca was waiting for me on the couch in the living room, wearing an outfit of my clothes, a shirt five sizes too big and sweatpants she had to roll at least five times so she wouldn’t trip on the pant leg. Even when she was completely dressed like a man, she was irresistible to me.
Her eyes were sleepy when she got up to greet me, so she must have fallen asleep on the couch while she’d waited for me.
After the ceremony at the tree, we’d returned to the terrace and had rounds of drinks and cigars to celebrate my initiation into the family.
Once the formality had been completed, the guys were themselves once more.
That went on for hours, so it was almost midnight now.
“Everything alright?” she asked as she walked up to me.
“Yeah.” I circled her lower back with my arm and pulled her into me for a kiss. “Everything’s okay.”
She pulled away after she kissed me, her intelligent eyes reading mine in the light from the lamp on the table beside the couch. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”
My hands remained on her back underneath her shirt, feeling her soft flesh and the little muscles that hugged her spine.
Sometimes time stopped when I looked at her, especially when she looked particularly beautiful in the light, and just for an instant, I forgot where I stood, my train of thought, the year we lived in.
“I carved my initials into the oak tree…like your father and his father and his father before him.”
She pulled away slightly as the understanding moved into her gaze.
My arm slipped away as she increased the distance between us.
Her eyes flicked back and forth between mine.
“We have to tell him,” I said. “Tomorrow.” I’d already waited too long. It was probably too late, and it would destroy the relationship I’d just solidified with her father. But I couldn’t keep the truth from him another day, and I was disappointed I’d let it go on as long as I had.
“You could ask his permission to date me instead,” she said. “He doesn’t need to know how long this has been going on.”
“And what if he says no?”
She hesitated as her eyes dropped. “You’ll change his mind.”
“I don’t lie, and I’m not going to start now, Francesca.” I wouldn’t change my principles to align with what I wanted at the time. “I’ve got to be straight with him. In light of what just happened, I don’t think it’ll be well-received at all, but there’s no other way.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, the sleeves of her shirt covering her elbows.
“Tomorrow.”
Her eyes wandered away from mine as she considered what I said.
She rubbed her arms reflexively like she was cold, but the summer nights had already started to warm up even though we were still in June.
But her eyes found mine again, scared and confident at the same time, and she gave a nod. “Tomorrow.”