CHAPTER TEN
Marco
AFTER NEARLY SHOOTING Sasha last night, she fled, clearly terrified, and the dog followed her. The image of her face, eyes wide with fear, is burned into my memory. I heard the loud bang of her bedroom door as she slammed it shut, and I also noticed she took her phone from my bedside table. That's what she must have been snooping around my room for. I’ve left strict instructions with my men to keep her in my home until I return. I have a meeting with my family.
My father is going to be there.
As I sit in my car, my mind is a storm of conflicting emotions. How can I ever live up to his expectations? The weight of the family legacy presses down on me like a physical burden. He always carries himself with such composure, such authority.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the knot in my stomach only tightens.
"You're just like your father," they say. But they don’t see the cracks. They don’t feel the doubt that gnaws at me every day. How can I be like him when I’m not even sure who I am?
The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror, his expression carefully neutral. He’s one of the old guards, loyal to my father long before I was born. I wonder what he thinks of me. Does he see the truth?
I clench my fists, the leather of the seat creaking under my grip. I’ve got to pull it together before the meeting. I can't let them see any weakness.
As we pull up to the house, I take another deep breath, trying to steel myself. The mansion looms ahead, a constant reminder of the legacy I’m supposed to uphold.
Stepping out of the car, I catch my reflection in the window. Do I really look like him? I force a smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes.
The front door swings open, and I’m greeted by my father.
“Marco, you're late.” His tone is sharp, and it stings more than it should.
“I know, I had some things to take care of,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.
He just nods, but his eyes are cold.
"We need to talk before Lucas arrives," he says, his voice low and serious.
I nod, feeling the weight of his words settle on my shoulders. "What is it, Father?"
We enter the main meeting room, which is empty right now, but it won’t be for long; this is where everyone will gather in just a short time. I already hear the crunching of wheels on the gravel outside.
My father closes the door and turns to me, assessing me for a moment before he speaks. "Lucas's arrival and the recent shooting of Danny have made me suspicious."
My stomach drops. "No, he would never... Lucas isn't capable of that."
My father's eyes narrow, his gaze boring into mine. "You may believe that, but I have my doubts. Lucas has always been ambitious, and ambition can lead a man down dark paths."
I swallow hard, trying to process his words. "What are you saying?"
"I have a theory," he continues, pacing the room. "Right now, I can't trust Lucas. It feels like he wants everything, and by eliminating each brother, he might just get the throne."
I shake my head, struggling to wrap my mind around the idea. "But we're family..."
"Family can be the greatest threat," he interrupts, his voice harsh. "Never forget that, Marco."
I stare at him, the weight of his suspicion heavy in the air. Could Lucas really be capable of such betrayal? The thought is almost too much to bear.
"Have you questioned him on where he was that night? Does he have an alibi?"
My father sits at the head of the long, oak table, steeples his fingers, and takes a deep breath. "That’s what today is about, Marco. To figure out where everyone was that night."
"I still don’t think it’s possible."
The door opens, and my father’s right-hand man doesn’t enter until he gets a nod of approval from my father. Lucas files in with two more of our men: Gerald, who’s nearly seven feet tall and as wide as a football field. He grunts, running his hands along his goatee before he sits. The last man is close to my father’s age, but that doesn’t take away how deadly he is. The scars across his face are sagging and look brutal with age. And Michael, as he passes me, squeezes my shoulder. He always held a fondness for me, and it’s clear he holds none for Lucas as he takes his seat next to Gerald. The final person to arrive is Damien, our brother. I don’t see James, and I glance at Father, but he watches Damien sit.
I look around the room at the familiar faces of family and allies.
“We've gathered here to discuss the recent shooting of Danny.” The way my father says it, you’d think Danny wasn’t his son. The air is thick with tension and the smell of expensive cologne. I want to ask where James is, but my father continues speaking.
“It was an inside job.” My father doesn’t beat around the bush, and no one responds. We are all on trial.
“We have hundreds of men,” Gerald speaks up, his voice rough like a man who’s smoked a hundred cigarettes.
My father nods, his gaze dancing across all of us. “I don’t think it goes that far down the chain of command. I think this was someone with the authority to have intel on us.”
“That narrows it down…” Lucas snorts. “To what, about seventy men?”
My father smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve cut a lot of foot soldiers since you've been gone. So, it’s twenty-six men.”
Lucas clears his throat. "Well, while you were cutting me, I was growing our territory,” Lucas says, but he’s only speaking to our father. This is the first time I have heard of this. "During my recent visit, I secured a small portion of the North."
The room falls silent, and I feel my stomach drop. The North? We’ve never dealt with them before and know not to, as that is Shay O’Reagan’s territory. A man you don’t cross. We still pay dues to the other O’Reagans who had ruled this area but have since left and now do most of their business in London. My father’s face turns a dangerous shade of red. "You did what?" he bellows, slamming his fist on the table. "You can't extend our territory without my permission! We don’t deal with the North!"
Lucas remains unfazed, meeting our father's furious gaze with defiance. "It’s already done, Father. Two men will be joining our group."
The tension in the room spikes, and I can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes shifting between Lucas and our father. This could end very badly. I glance at Gerald, whose expression remains unreadable, but I know he’s thinking the same thing I am – this move by Lucas could either strengthen our family or bring about its downfall.
“Who are these two men?” my father asks.
Lucas sits back in his chair like he has won the war. He’s not even started on the battlefield yet; he should know that. “I've vetted them.”
My father gives a cold stare toward Lucas. “Well, then they must be great.”
Lucas's gaze tightens, but my father takes a deep breath, visibly working to calm himself down. "We’ll discuss this further, Lucas, alone," he says, his tone icy. I glance at Lucas, who just nods. What if Father is right? What if Lucas was behind Danny’s shooting? The thought sends a chill down my spine.
Father stands and looks at me and Lucas, his eyes sharp. "You two will investigate the shooting personally. Everything else is secondary right now. Gerald will assist you." His voice leaves no room for argument. The mention of Gerald causes a ripple of tension in the room. Gerald is my father's right-hand man, trusted by him above all others.
“Let’s get to work.” I’m glad to get out of the suffocating room.
In the hallway, Father hands me a list. "Here’s a lead from an informant. The shooter knew where Danny and you would be, Marco. This is a list of everyone who was in the loop. Use whatever force necessary to get to the truth."
I tighten my fingers around the list and nod. Gerald stands by, silent but watchful. The air is heavy with unspoken words. I want to ask him about the guns about the charity event. Will it still go ahead? But all of this seems like it doesn’t have a place right here and now.
"Shaking down our own people is a terrible move," Gerald warns.
Father smiles a cold, calculating smile. "If they have nothing to hide, they will cooperate."
Gerald is right; this could backfire badly, but Father seems to have made up his mind. As we head out, Lucas immediately turns to Gerald. "Where were you the night of the shooting?" His voice is sharp, accusatory.
Father interrupts before Gerald can respond. "I can vouch for Gerald. He was out of the country at the time."
I see Lucas's eyes narrow. He doesn’t believe him—neither do I. It’s clear to us that Father is lying, but why? What is he hiding?
As Gerald and Lucas walk outside, Father stops me by placing his hand gently on my arm."There’s something bigger at play here, and we need to find out what. Keep an eye on Lucas. We can’t trust him or anyone now."
"Where's James?" I ask, my voice flat.
Father barely looks up. He adjusts his cuff, a slight shift of his wrist, before meeting my gaze. "You know how he doesn't deal well with things like this."
I don't buy it. Not for a second. "Right." My tone drips with disbelief.
Before he can come up with another excuse, Damien steps out into the hallway. He’s a carbon copy of me and Lucas—same sharp jaw, same cold stare—but where we still have traces of something human, he’s…empty. Not just detached. Hollow.
He walks past without a word, without even acknowledging us.
I glance at Father. "Is he alright?"
He exhales through his nose. "None of us are." His hand lands on my shoulder, a firm squeeze, then he lets go. His expression hardens. "Now, let’s get to work and bring down the bastard who shot my son."
I nod once. The air thickens with the weight of it all—time to end this.