Chapter 42 #3
“We made sure that our grandson would be the future Underboss of The Outfit,” her husband answers for her, spitting at my feet as if the action could insult me.
I’m too far removed from him to feel slighted by a little spit.
“That stray you took in will never be able to usurp Bastian’s place now.
Not without whispers following him every step of the way. ”
“Are you fucking serious?” I blink at them in disbelief.
“That’s why you did this? Bastian is my heir, and he always will be.
Not because he’s my blood. Not because he’s Cleo’s blood, but because he’s a firstborn Moretti son.
Leo’s adoption isn’t a secret, but even if it was, he would still be second in line for my throne.
My throne, mind you. I could give it to one of my brothers, or dismantle the position all together if I fucking wanted to. ”
“But you won’t,” Sara sneers. “And because of us, Sala blood will always have power within The Outfit. We did that.”
“Oh, you stupid little bitch.” Gino sighs, leaning back against the plastic-covered wall.
“No one is going to remember the Sala name after today. The only blood running through that boy’s veins is his and his alone.
Morettis are born and they remain Morettis even after their deaths.
When you die, you’ll just be food for the worms.”
I give him a barely noticeable nod, thanking him for his words. There’s a reason he’s my most trusted man.
“I’ve had enough talking, haven’t you?” Apollo drawls, sounding bored as he makes a show of checking his watch. “If we wrap this up soon, we can have the house in ashes in time to be home for breakfast.”
“Yeah,” I agree, dipping my head. “I’m finished here.”
Ezio tries to act like a man, glaring up at us but his wife makes no such effort. Sara is wailing like a banshee, cursing and screaming at us to get out of her house and leave her alone.
Her demands go ignored, of course.
Once Gino starts pouring gasoline over them, her screams become unintelligible.
She’s hysterical in minutes, and her husband makes no move to comfort her.
The two of them either have no love between them, or they’ve already said their goodbyes in case of something like this happening to them.
I can’t be sure, but I can’t spend anymore of my precious time contemplating these people.
Once they burn, I’ll be cleansed of them.
The canister of oil clangs against the ground as Gino empties it, tossing it aside since it’s no longer of use to us.
I don’t bother asking if they have any last words, as I pull a small match box from my front pocket and wonder if I should have cut them up a little bit first. Nico would be so disappointed to learn I didn’t bloody any of the six knives I brought with me.
But burning to death isn’t a peaceful way to go out either.
It should be enough to satiate the bloodlust burning beneath my skin.
Ezio flinches hard, trying again to free himself as I strike the red tip of a match to the textured edge of the box.
A flare bursts free without struggle, flickering to life between my fingers.
Motivated to get home because of Apollo’s suggestion, I toss the flame forward, a bright wave of orange surging from the source.
Cleo’s father’s tough guy act is quick to end as fire licks up his skin, burning through his clothes with instant effect.
Her mother’s screams simply get louder, a feat I wasn’t sure was possible.
“Should have brought marshmallows,” Gino jokes, coming over to put a steadying hand on my shoulder.
Apollo wrinkles his nose like he’s smelled something awful. “They’d taste foul. Gas and human flesh? No thanks.”
“Not to eat,” Gino replies with a chuckle. “To put on their skin. Marshmallows feel like fucking lava when you touch them as they’re melting. Might help with the burning flesh smell too.”
“Have you met Nico?” My brother gives my friend a knowing look. “I think he’d like you.”
“The last time I spoke to him, he told me my hair was a mess and that I looked like I just rolled out of bed.”
“You did just roll out of bed,” I mention, remembering the moment. “We were doing drills.”
“It was still rude,” Gino sulks, cracking a smile. “Come on, let’s light this place up and get out of here before we start inhaling too much smoke.”
Ezio and Sara’s screams have died out, and their whole bodies have lit up, some of their skin starting to melt off their bones like taper candles.
“Yeah, all right,” I agree. “They’re dead, anyway. No coming back from that.”
“Speaking of which,” Gino says, pulling his gun from the small of his back. Sure to not step too close to the open flames, he lets off ten rounds, shooting each body five times. “There, that’s better.”
“What was that for, exactly?” I ask, giving him a baffled smile.
“They talked shit about my future boss’s brother. Couldn’t let it slide, man.”
Scoffing, I push him away and start heading toward the door to get fresh air outside. “You think you’re going to outlive me, old man?”
“I think Maria will kill me if I don’t live to be a hundred and fifty, so probably.”
Laughing echoes into the night, and the crackle of a burning building follows suit.