Chapter 6
Damiano
The capo is on his knees and sobbing his heart out, a pathetic display for a Barone man. My father sits behind his desk, fingers steepled, the gold viper signet ring glinting on his little finger. His face is impassive, but there’s a slight curl to his lip as he gazes at the man.
He speaks to me, standing on his right-hand side. “What’s my number one rule, Damiano?”
“Live with honor, Don Carlucci,” I reply.
“And what do I hate more than anything in the world?”
The answer is readily on my tongue. It’s been driven into me almost since the day Lucy and I arrived at the Barone mansion. “Lies, Don Carlucci.”
The man on his knees sobs even harder. The dozen capos at his back are as still and impassive as stone. Everyone in this room knows the don’s ironclad rules by heart, and they would sooner slash their own throats than act with dishonor. No one has an ounce of pity for the traitor.
Carlucci Barone makes his expectations crystal clear. The day we become made men, we swear an oath of loyalty to him, and we must live it, breathe it, and honor it until the day we die.
Even before I became a made man, I learned to fear displeasing Dad.
I lost count of the number of times he beat me between the ages of twelve and fifteen.
If I was late, if he thought I was lazy, if I questioned him or didn’t follow his instructions to the letter, he would take off his belt and lay into me viciously.
Every inch of my back, my ass, my thighs would be on fire.
Physical punishment is his favorite form of discipline.
It never happened at home, only in this office adjoining the Barone warehouses, so Lucy never knew.
I think she might have screamed the house down if she did.
When I turned fifteen, I learned the truth about our family, and I never dared to break one of Dad’s rules again.
I stood on the spot where Emilio is presently kneeling, the capos at my back, while Dad told me the reason why I’d been adopted.
Not to be his son, or rather, not only to be his son.
My father is not a businessman. Mr. Barone is just his public persona.
He is Don Carlucci, head of the Barone crime family, and I had been plucked out of that squalid, hateful group foster home to become a mafia prince.
Not a lot of what he was saying was a surprise to me as he’d given me a gun the year before, but this was the point of no return.
Dad was asking me to join him. I would be a soldier, the lowest ranked one at first, but I could work my way up, and if I worked hard enough and gave my whole life to the family, one day I would take his place and be as powerful as he is.
One day, I’d be Don Damiano.
Power clings to my father, giving him an aura that very few people possess. I sensed it that day he came to Milbray to handpick me as his son. Power means safety. Power means being able to protect the ones you love.
But power can be a double-edged sword. Power attracts danger.
That day when I was fifteen and Dad asked me to become a soldier, I hesitated before I gave my reply. “Will I get hurt?” I asked him.
I heard scoffing noises behind me. Dad’s men thought I was a coward, but I didn’t care. I wanted the truth.
Dad looked displeased. “My son, I brought you here to speak to you in front of my men because I thought you were brave.”
“I’m asking for Lucy’s sake. It would upset her if I got hurt, and she’s shed too many tears already. I don’t want to be the reason she cries.”
“Who’s Lucy?” one of the capos asked.
“My sister.”
The man waved a dismissive hand. “Eh, I wouldn’t worry so much about your sister.”
“I will worry about my sister, sir,” I said tightly, my fists clenching at my sides.
I met Dad’s gaze and held it. I’d do what Dad asks of me. I’d break the law. I’d hurt people if that’s what he wants. But loving Lucy any less than with my whole heart?
Unthinkable.
I didn’t think he’d be offended by me loving Lucy more than him, Mom, and Ariana, and I was right. Love was not the reason he adopted me.
“I can’t see the future,” Dad told me. “Malus is a complicated and dangerous city, and it needs strong leaders. The best thing you can do to protect Lucy, to protect this family, is join me.”
I could see the sense in that. I’m a Barone, and that comes with respect as well as danger. Better that I face that danger head-on to shelter Lucy from it.
“Then I accept.”
Dad smiled, and his capos welcomed me.
When I turned eighteen three months ago, I became a made man, and I swore the omertà. The oath of honor. If I break that oath, I’ll be punished.
A Barone man keeps his mouth shut.
He does not tell his wife his secrets.
He does not tell his sister his secrets.
We keep our women out of our business for their own protection.
Loyalty to the family above all else.
Honor above life itself.
I swore that oath knowing that I was already breaking it. I was living a lie, concealing from my father that my sister and I did not share any blood. The lie has become part of me, knitting itself into my soul. It can never be undone because that lie is the only thing keeping Lucy safe.
I may not love Carlucci Barone, and he may not love me, but he respects me, and I respect him.
He has no such respect for my sister, and neither does the woman we call Mom.
It pains me that they look upon Lucy with disdain.
She’s the daughter they never wanted and never valued.
I hoped that over the years they would learn to love her quick wits, her determination, or at least her beauty.
They find her wits irritating because she talks back.
They loathe her determination and call it stubbornness.
They prefer Ariana’s polished looks to Lucy’s natural loveliness.
I can’t change how they feel about her, but they will afford her protection as long as they think of her as a Barone. The sister of their prized son.
The lie I’m carrying is a deadly one. I fear what they’ll do to Lucy if they ever find out the truth.
Lately, I’m the one putting her in danger because something has changed between Lucy and me. I tell myself I didn’t notice when it happened. That there wasn’t a specific moment. But that’s a lie.
It was three months ago. Lucy came downstairs for dinner wearing a dress Mom had bought her for a family event. Just a simple black dress that made her eyes look as bewitching as jewels.
She smiled at me, the same smile she’s given me a thousand times. She was still the same Lucy who holds my hand during thunderstorms and steals food off my plate, but I couldn’t breathe.
I stared at her, frozen, while universes exploded into existence inside me. She wasn’t my little Lucy anymore. She’s never been just my little Lucy.
I left the room before anyone saw my face and the way I was looking at my stunning, sixteen-year-old sister.
I’ve been trying to kill these feelings.
I date other girls, though never seriously, and never anyone who matters.
Lucy thinks I’m pulling away and being evasive because I don’t care anymore, but that’s not true.
Every time she touches me, every time she looks at me with those trusting eyes, my thoughts go to dark, heated places. I want things that are dangerous.
I want to make her mine. And that makes me a monster, because as far as Mom and Dad and everyone in Malus knows, she’s my blood.
Emilio, the man on his knees before Don Carlucci, has broken his oath.
Last night he got drunk and ranted about the Sokolis, a newer, rival crime family in Malus, boasting for everyone in the bar to hear that Don Carlucci was going to crush them.
It was a stupid, nonsense rant, but it will bring Sokolis to our doorstep.
They will hear about the drunken threats. Probably they already have.
There’s a fireplace in Dad’s office, and a fire crackles menacingly in the grate despite the warm day. A fire iron is buried in the hot coals, its tip glowing red.
Dad pronounces Emilio’s sentence. “For your broken oath, you will be banished from Malus for the rest of your life. You are no longer part of this family.” He nods to two of his men, who rip the shirt from Emilio’s back.
“But I have nothing without you, Don Carlucci,” Emilio begs. “My family has nothing without you.”
The pleas fall on deaf ears. Dad turns to me. “Will you do the honors, Damiano?”
I look at him in surprise. Me? He’s never asked me to dispense justice before, but I know better than to argue with the don. I make my way over to the fireplace and pull out the iron. The end has been flattened into a square, and it glows red-hot.
My face betrays nothing, but my heart races and stomach churns as I look at the glowing tip. This is a sign that Dad is putting more trust in me. Giving me more responsibility. I have no choice but to show him that I’m worthy of his trust.
I walk around behind Emilio and contemplate his bare back. His Barone viper tattoo is coiled across his shoulder, and it’s over a foot long. He’ll be wishing he chose something more discreet in a moment. My own viper tattoo is curled around my forearm. I got it the day after I swore the omertà.
“Hold his arms.” At my command, two capos seize Emilio by the shoulders and wrists on each side.
I press the red-hot iron into Emilio’s flesh. He screams and tries to thrash from side to side, but the capos have a tight hold of him. His flesh sizzles and smokes. The acrid scent fills my nostrils.
I keep my face impassive as I work my way from the tail of the snake right up to its flickering tongue until the tattoo is completely obliterated.
When I’m finished, I toss the fire iron back into the grate and turn.
Bile burns the back of my throat, but I swallow it down. I don’t feel sorry for Emilio. I’m disgusted. He’s a fool for running his mouth. You couldn’t drag my secret out of me under the cruelest torture.