Chapter Three
Sunlight filters through the curtains slowly pulling me out of unconsciousness. My eyes flutter open through the sleepy haze. A sharp knock sounds on my door seconds before Milo strolls in. I sit up in a rush, the sheet pooling around my waist, goosebumps cover my bare chest as a gust of wind from the air vent washes over me.
“It’s time. He’ll be here in twenty minutes.” My best friend explains his reason for barging in like he owns the fucking place. He’s already dressed in the usual dark suit and button up. Did this motherfucker even sleep?
I nod and swing my legs over the side of my bed, I groan as a mug of piping hot coffee is shoved into my face. My brows furrow with confusion as I glare up at him. Milo lets out a throaty laugh as he drags it out of reach.
“I figured you’d want a quick jolt before you finally get your revenge.” He smirks and places the cup on the bedside table.
I roll my eyes at him and stand, stretching my arms over my head, and walk toward the bathroom with a calm that should make me feel uncomfortable. However, after the memories that surfaced last night, I'm looking forward to this. I don’t bother with a shower, just a quick piss to relieve my bladder before pulling on some dark sweats so that we won’t have to worry about blood stains after the fact. My gaze darts to the glint of light that hits the silver of my knife handle laying on the bedside table. I smirk and lift it into my hand, testing the weight in my palm before sliding it into my pocket.
“Let’s get this done.” I grin as I finally pick up the coffee and take a sip of the steaming liquid. An appreciative groan escapes. “Fuck, no one can make a cup like Mrs. D can.” My friend grunts and nods in agreement as I take another swig.
Milo and I walk the length of the house to the basement steps. We pass by a handful of soldiers, most of whom seem to be new recruits. No one speaks to me as we pass, but I can feel their eyes following us. When we reach the basement door, Milo pulls the heavy barrier to allow me past the threshold first to head down the stairs. As I descend the steps, I notice a familiar face peeking up at me.
A large figure emerges from the shadows with a wide grin on his lips as he holds out a hand to greet me. I ignore the gesture and pull him into a hug. He chuckles and shoves me away.
“I’ve missed you too kid, but we can get reacquainted once this is done.” Michael Messina, the man who was the closest thing to an uncle I had growing up, says to me. He was my Nonna’s favorite of Frederico’s men when I was a kid. For a long time, she had hoped that my mother would end up with him since he's only a few years older. His charcoal color hair is still dark and cropped short, it’s as if time has stood still, I notice as I take in his features.
My joy at reuniting with someone I have such fond memories of sours when Milo’s voice cuts through the room.
“Incoming.” He snaps.
I take my position, replacing Michael in the shadows. My eyes flicker to movement in the cell that they’ll be leading him into. Someone is hunched over on the floor in the far corner. I grin when I realize it’s Michael who has made himself impossibly small, he’s nearly unrecognizable from this position.
Moments later, the man of my nightmares is led into the space. He grumbles something in Italian as he approaches the cell. It’s not until he’s through the open door that I make myself known. Straightening my spine, I make myself taller and quietly approach the scene before me.
“Who the fuck do you think you are to steal from the Ludovico family?” Frederico growls, his voice coming out a bit raspy. He must have gone hard on the cigars for the past decade or so.
Once I'm standing in the doorway, I clear my throat. The same man I looked up to for years, did everything I could to become who he wanted me to be, spins to face me. Looking into his eyes, I remember everything. Every request, every command. Nothing was ever too much. He was a king among men, untouchable, unquestionable. But now, I see him through clear eyes for the piece of shit he is. An insect that must be crushed.
“Everyone, out.” I shout with a tone I know my grandfather recognizes. He is the one who taught me how to force those around me to respect my authority as the rightful heir to our family. His face drains of color the moment realization sinks in. “Time’s up, old man.”
I feel my lips twitch into a sadistic smile as I ball my hand into a fist and throw a right hook. The old man collapses as soon as my knuckles land on the intended mark. Luckily for him, Michael is standing behind him and catches him before he can obtain any real damage from hitting the concrete. Milo drags a metal chair over to the center of the room. The two of them make fast work of restraining him to the chair. Not that I'm worried he could get away or that he could hurt me. It’s more for us, so that we don’t have to hold him up from falling over until he comes to.
Michael steps out of the cell for a moment leaving Milo and I alone with a still very unconscious Frederico. He returns quickly with something in his hand. As Michael approaches my grandfather, he snaps whatever it is with his fingers. He waves it under Frederico’s nose causing him to immediately jolt awake and violently thrash in the chair with what sounds like a painful bit of coughing. I cock a questioning brow in Michael's direction.
“Smelling salts. We don’t use them too often; usually we don’t care if they wake up.” Milo answers me with a shrug of his shoulders.
Understanding dawns and I nod in response. Frederico’s eyes find me the moment he has control of his faculties again.
“Giovanni, what are you doing here?” He snarls at me from his place on the metal chair.
Laughter erupts from deep within my chest. He can’t be serious. Oh, this is going to be fun.
“It’s been a while, Gramps.” I reply with a sharpness in my tone as I approach the chair he’s seated on. He’s too old and from the looks of it, far too fragile to try to get out of his restraints, but based on the hatred in his eyes, he wants to. Oh, does he want to. “I haven’t been Giovanni for quite some time, but now that I’m home, maybe he’ll have to come out to play and see how much he remembers from your training. After all, the first-time I had been in this very room was the night I found you attacking a man with a bag over his head in this same chair. You made me help you eliminate him when you caught me.”
Frederico’s eyes go even wider than before. His body begins to shudder as the shock of my memory returning really seeps into his core.
“Do you remember that? The way the metal scraped against the cement floor? His muffled cries from the gag you had in his mouth? I didn’t, not until last night.” I stifle back a laugh, “after Mrs. De Luca’s cinnamon bun, of all things, triggered the memory.”
Milo and Michael are still behind me. Neither of them knows. Michael had been assigned to my mother who was away that night for a charity function. Milo and I hadn’t met then, I was only a child.
“I guess it makes sense, since it was her husband who was here, helping you. That is, until you forced me to take a knife to my own father's throat.” I shoot the words at him like poison. “When you removed the bag and showed me the identity of who I helped you kill, you told me that I was just having a bad dream. Dad had gone out with my mother that night. You even cleaned me up and tucked me in.”
My shoulders release tension I didn’t realize I’ve been carrying for so long. Michael lunges for Frederico, but doesn’t get far. Milo inserts himself between the two men and nods at me with a knowing look in his eyes.
“See, I had believed you for so long. Fuck, I thought that I wanted to be you for Christ's sake. The moment I saw you with Lucia though. That was simultaneously the best and worst day of my life. I lost so much time with people I love because I couldn’t bear to see either of your faces.” I pause briefly to take a breath as my explanation marinates in his thick skull. “It wasn’t until I was taking notes in a Tort class while I was enrolled in law school that it dawned on me. You were jealous that I showed more promise as a leader than you ever have. Your men respected me back then, even more than they respected you. If it weren’t for my mother asking me to let you live because you were still her father, this would have happened fifteen God damn years ago.”
I shove my hand into my pocket and wrap my fingers around the handle of my knife. No words are exchanged in the seconds it takes for me to remove the knife from my pants. I press the button to eject the blade from its cover and swiftly slit through my grandfather’s throat, just like he had me do to my father all those years ago.
“Jesus fuck.” Milo says as the blood flows quickly, pooling at Frederico’s feet which just so happen to be right by the drain we use to remove evidence.
I step close enough to tear open the shirt of my now deceased grandfather and carve the calling card the Esposito family uses in this situation. The body may be being placed into a car with an explosive device, but we take precautions. You never know what could happen. With a steady hand, I carve a perfect “E” into the chest followed by an S made of straight lines at a slant. How their men do this on skin when you have to pass over already sliced skin is beyond me. It takes more talent and patience than I’ll ever have.