24. The Final Reckoning #2
Alessandro takes a tentative sip, then relaxes slightly as the smooth whiskey hits his tongue. “Excellent choice. You have good taste, Ezekiel.”
I lean back in my chair, studying him over the rim of my glass. Everything about him screams old money—from his perfectly tailored suit to his manicured nails. But there’s something desperate in his eyes now, something unhinged since Gio’s death.
“Let’s cut the pleasantries,” I say. “Where’s the boy?”
He has the audacity to look confused. “Boy? What boy?”
My grip tightens on my glass. “Don’t play dumb with me, Alessandro. Leo. My wife’s nephew. The child you had kidnapped from his school.”
“Ah, yes. The cop’s nephew. Shame about that.” He takes another sip, savoring it. “Interesting choice of bride, by the way. Though I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“The boy,” I repeat, my voice dropping dangerously low. “Where is he?”
Alessandro spreads his hands in a gesture of innocence that makes my trigger finger itch. “Why would I know anything about that? Perhaps you should ask your old friend Nicolo. He seems to have taken quite an interest in your domestic situation.”
The mention of Nicolo sets my teeth on edge. “Nicolo claims he’s not involved.”
“Does he now?” Alessandro’s smile is shark-like. “And you believe him? The great Nicolo Moretti, who never lets a slight go unpunished? Who spent years grooming you as his successor only to have you turn your back on the family?”
I maintain my neutral expression, but inside my blood is boiling. Alessandro may be an amateur at mafia games but he’s an excellent listener and gatherer of information. He knows my history with Nicolo well.
“You’re working with him,” I say. It’s not a question.
Alessandro shrugs elegantly. “We all work with someone, don’t we?”
My phone buzzes in my pocket—a text. I don’t react, don’t let my expression change, but Alessandro’s eyes track the movement anyway.
“Expecting someone?” he asks, false concern dripping from his voice.
“Just business,” I reply smoothly, using the motion of setting down my glass to check the message from Micah.
Micah
Found him. Warehouse district. Heavily guarded but alive.
Relief floods through me, quickly followed by cold rage. They’ve had him this whole time, probably less than a mile from the club. Playing games while a child suffers.
Time to end this.
I stand and move to the bar cart where both bottles of Macallan wait. “Another drink? Since we’re being so honest with each other.”
“Please.” Alessandro tosses back the rest of his whiskey then holds out his glass. “It would be a shame to waste such fine whiskey.”
With my body blocking his view, I pour him a generous measure from the second bottle—the one treated with a particularly nasty cocktail of chemicals that will make it look like natural causes. Quick, mostly painless, and virtually untraceable.
“You know,” I say conversationally as I hand him the glass, “I’ve been wondering something. What exactly did you hope to achieve here? Taking Leo, threatening Eve. Did you really think I would just stand by and let you hurt my family?”
He accepts the drink with a predatory smile. “Family? Is that what you’re calling them now? The cop and her orphan nephew?” He chuckles. “Nicolo’s right. You’ve gone soft, Ezekiel. The man he described would never have tied himself down like this. Never would have let a woman make him weak.”
I retake my seat, watching as he brings the glass to his lips. “Love isn’t weakness, Alessandro. But you wouldn’t understand that, would you? Too busy trying to prove yourself worthy of Nicolo’s attention.”
His hand stills. “Careful, King. You’re not the only one with powerful friends.”
“Friends?” I can’t help but laugh. “Is that what you think you have? Tell me, how many of your ‘friends’ would die for you? How many would take a bullet or go to prison to protect your interests?”
He scoffs, but I see uncertainty flicker in his eyes. “I don’t need their loyalty. I have their fear.”
“Fear only works until someone stronger comes along.” I lean forward, dropping all pretense of civility. “Now, one last time—what do you want in exchange for Leo’s safe return?”
Alessandro takes a long drink, draining half the glass in one go. Perfect .
“You want to negotiate? Fine. I want the cop’s head on a platter. Kill her, publicly, messily. Show everyone what happens when they cross the Costa family.”
Even though I knew something like this was coming. The sheer audacity of it—demanding I murder my own wife—makes me want to reach across the table and end him right here.
He finishes his drink and already the first signs emerge: A slight sheen of sweat on his upper lip, the way his breathing catches just a little.
“Something wrong?” I ask mildly as he tugs at his collar.
“It’s … rather warm in here, isn’t it?” His voice is strained.
I smile, cold and sharp as a blade. “You wanted a war, Alessandro. Congratulations—you just lost.”
His eyes widen as understanding dawns. He tries to stand but his legs give out, sending him crashing back into his chair. One hand clutches at his chest while the other scrabbles uselessly at his throat.
“The thing about fear,” I say, standing to look down at him, “is that it makes people sloppy. Makes them forget to check their drinks, forget to watch their backs. Makes them think they’re untouchable.”
He’s gasping now, face turning an interesting shade of purple. I lean down close to his ear.
“You threatened my family,” I whisper. “Tried to use an innocent child as leverage. Did you really think I would let you live after that?”
His only response is a choked gurgle. Down in the main room, my men will take care of the security Alessandro brought. No man will leave here alive.
Eli and my other guards will handle the cleanup, transfer the bodies to the warehouse and make it look like an attack on the mafia. Clean, but deadly. Tragic, really.
I stand, straightening my cuffs as Alessandro Costa takes his last rattling breath. When he finally goes still, I pull out my phone.
I dial Eli’s number, ready to give him instructions. It rings once before he picks up.
“Eli,” I say into the phone, watching Alessandro’s lifeless body slump in the chair. “Get a cleanup crew in here. I want this place spotless.”
“On it, boss. What about the others?”
I check my watch. By now, my men will have neutralized Alessandro’s security detail downstairs. “Load the bodies into the vans. Take them to the warehouse—the one by the river. Stage it to look like they were attacked there.”
“And Costa?”
“Same place. Make it look like they were all ambushed during a meeting. Leave evidence pointing to the Barone family.” I pause, considering. “And Eli? Make sure Marcus Barone’s signature weapon turns up at the scene. He pays for this too.”
“Consider it done.” There’s a pause. “What about Leo?”
“Eve and Rissa already had plans for the warehouse, we’ll come in as back up. I want this to be her win. Once you’re finished at the warehouse, gather everyone at the usual spot. No mistakes. We take down what’s left of the Columbus families.”
“All of them?”
“Every last one.” I study Alessandro’s body, feeling nothing but cold satisfaction. “They chose their side. Now they’ll face the consequences.”
“Understood. Anything else?”
“Yeah. Tell Seb to start those server uploads we discussed. I want every dirty deal, every criminal enterprise, every piece of evidence in the hands of the Columbus PD.” I allow myself a grim smile. “Let’s give Eve and her partner something to work with.”
“Copy that. We’ll have it done within the hour.”
I end the call, then send a quick text to Micah.
Zeke
Clear for extraction. Meet me at the warehouse in twenty.
It’s time to win back my city. And get Leo back.