21. Rafi
21
RAFI
T he moment I step through the door, all hell breaks loose. My brothers descend like a storm, voices overlapping as they pull me in every direction, their frustration tangible. Mason cuts through the commotion, raising one hand like a traffic cop to pause the verbal assault and the other pressed lightly against my chest to hold me back. Despite his efforts, the room hums with tension.
Standing here, surrounded by my family, I should feel safe, grounded. But right now? I feel like the biggest disappointment in the room. Their words batter me like a relentless tide, each one a reminder of my missteps.
“What were you thinking?!?!” a voice rises above the others, sharp and cutting. Allegra . Her bare feet tap a determined rhythm against the marble tiles as she strides toward me, her presence immediately silencing the room. For a moment, I think she’ll offer a lifeline, a soothing word to calm the storm. Instead, she smacks me upside the head, her glare furious.
“Allegra!” Scar growls, stepping forward instinctively, his hand hovering near her arm as if to shield her from her own anger.
“What the hell, Rafi?” she snaps, ignoring him. “What were you thinking ? What would I have told Scarlett if something happened to you? Do you even consider us when you do reckless things like this?” Her voice cracks, and to my utter disbelief, tears spill down her cheeks.
I rear my head back, stunned. Allegra doesn’t cry—she’s the glue that keeps us together, the one who never wavers. Seeing her like this twists something deep inside me, a pang of guilt that I can’t quite shake. Scar steps in, folding her in his arms as she sobs into his chest. Around us, the rest of my brothers exchange glances, their heads bowed slightly, as if her tears are too sacred to witness.
“Relax, Allie. It’s not that heavy,” I mutter, trying to lighten the mood, but the words land like a lead weight. Scar’s glare cuts through me from over her head, sharp enough to make me flinch.
“Now you’ve done it, bro,” Lucky quips, leaning casually against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” I snap back, narrowing my eyes at him. Ever since he and Jacklyn Vicci got together, the guy’s been impossible to pry out of bed— and not because he’s sleeping. One good jab deserves another.
The tension in the room crackles, but Lucky just chuckles, unfazed. “Touchy, touchy. Must’ve hit a nerve.”
Allegra pulls away from Scar slightly, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “This isn’t a joke, Rafi,” she says, her voice quieter now but no less firm. “You can’t keep putting yourself in danger like this. It hurts for us to see you hurt.”
Her eyes track the fading bruises on my face and she gives me a wary look. Her words settle over the room like a heavy fog, and for once, even Lucky falls silent. I let out a slow breath, glancing around at the faces of my brothers. They’re angry, yes, but beneath that, there’s something else—concern, fear, love.
Allegra nods slightly, her shoulders still tense, but she lets Scar guide her out of the room. The rest of my brothers linger, watching me, waiting for something more, even though I don’t know how much more I can give them.
“So tell me what you were thinking,” Scar says, as he comes back into the room.
“Is Allegra alright?”
“She’s a little hormonal. We’re expecting. Sorry, you must have missed the memo in all the excitement.”
His voice is low and measured, almost unnervingly calm. Scar is at his most dangerous in these moments of quiet control, when his silence feels like a coiled spring, ready to strike. It’s in these contemplative moods, with his razor-sharp focus honed, that he does the most damage.
The news leaves me stunned, a flicker of happiness blooming in my chest before it’s quickly overshadowed by guilt. I can’t ignore the time I’ve spent away from my brothers, hiding behind my own insecurities, licking my wounds, and chasing some idealized version of myself that doesn’t exist. A nagging voice whispers that I’ll never be on their level—not unless I let them guide me, teach me, shape me into the man I want to be.
I let out a slow breath, my chest tight with conflicting emotions. Happiness, guilt, shame, and longing swirl together in a chaotic storm. My brothers are my foundation, my constant, but I’ve spent so much time trying to prove I’m more than just the youngest Gatti. In doing so, I’ve distanced myself from them, and now I wonder if I’ve wasted precious time.
The truth is, they’ve already set the bar so high that even reaching it feels impossible. Scar’s strategic brilliance, Brando’s unflinching loyalty, Lucky’s cunning—all of them bring something unique to the table. And then there’s me, trying to carve out my place in their world while feeling like an outsider looking in.
But this news, this glimmer of hope, reminds me that I don’t have to do this alone. Maybe it’s not about proving myself to them. Maybe it’s about realizing I’m already enough and that leaning on them isn’t weakness—it’s family.
For the first time in a long while, I feel a spark of determination. I don’t just want to be their equal. I want to be someone they can rely on, someone who strengthens this family instead of dragging it down.
But for now, all I can do is stand here, grappling with the weight of my emotions, and hope that when the time comes, I’ll be ready to step up and truly earn my place beside them.
“Start at the beginning. Give us the compressed version. Don’t leave anything out.” Lucky’s smirk as he leans back in his chair makes it clear he knows he’s thrown down a challenge. He’s made it impossible to keep things simple, but I guess I’ll have to give it a shot.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Mason gently passing Tayana to Mia. When her wide eyes dart to mine, I offer a small, encouraging smile, hoping to reassure her.
“Cute little thing, isn’t she?” Lucky mutters, nudging me with an obnoxious grin.
I clench my jaw to keep from snapping at him. This isn’t the time for his games. Honestly, it would’ve been better if Tayana weren’t here for this conversation. I have no idea how my brothers are going to react to the fact that I’ve brought the Russians straight to our doorstep. And then there’s Mia—I can’t bear the thought of her clinging to false hope about her sister when we have nothing solid to offer yet.
“I saw Maxine Andrade,” I say finally, cutting straight to the point. It’s the strongest start I can manage, and the words land like a thunderclap. My brothers sit up straighter, their focus sharpening as the weight of what I’ve said sinks in.
“The beginning,” Lucky hisses, his tone pointed. “You didn’t just see her walking down the side of the road, did you?” He quirks an eyebrow, clearly relishing the idea of me laying out all my screw-ups for everyone to dissect.
The room feels stifling, their eyes boring into me, demanding answers. I take a steadying breath, glancing once more at Tayana before diving in.
“Fine,” I say, my voice steady, even as I brace myself for their reactions. “I was at the fight club when I saw Maxine Andrade sitting in the front row next to Igor Aslanov.” My words come out in a rush, eager to move past that thing I know my brothers are going to fixate on.
“The bruises on your face,” Brando starts, but Scar holds up a hand to stop him.
“Let him finish. Then we can whip his ass.”
I swallow hard, forcing the lump in my throat down as I continue, piecing together the tangled mess of events. I tell them about Tayana being the only link I could find to Igor. Speaking with her; her reluctance to tell me anything about her uncle.
I shift on my feet, the weight of their stares heavy as I recount the lead Tayana eventually gave me, the one that took me to the docks. I describe the ambush—how Mason and Kanyan arrived just in time, their intervention pulling us back from the edge of a near disaster. My voice tightens as I talk about the attack on Tayana’s shelter and the chaos that followed, leading to our meeting with the Cavallos.
When I finally stop, the room is suffocatingly silent. Scar, ever the strategist, breaks it first. “Anything else we should know about?” he asks, his tone steady, edged with expectation.
I shake my head, unable to meet their eyes. Shame weighs heavily on me, dragging me down. For years, I’ve fought tooth and nail against their insistence on keeping me out of the business. Now, after everything, it feels like there’s nothing left of that fight. I’m just tired.
Lucky’s smirk slices through the tension like a knife. “The girl,” he drawls. “He hasn’t told us about the girl.”
Heat rushes to my face, and for a brief, satisfying moment, I imagine smacking him upside the head, just like Allegra did to me earlier. Before I can act on the impulse, Brando steps in, saving me the trouble.
“Mind your business, Lucky,” Brando says firmly, giving him a look that could level a city. But he’s not done. Turning to the room, his voice takes on a weight that silences any lingering smirks. “You all know the rules. Guests are sacred in our home. Tayana included, regardless of who her family is.” His words are deliberate, an unspoken warning hanging in the air.
Scar leans back in his chair, his sharp gaze slicing through the tension in the room. “If Igor Aslanov is here to reclaim something he thinks he’s owed,” he says, his voice calm but heavy with authority. “He’s not going to back off easily.”
“Objectives?” Brando prompts, always eager to cut to the chase.
“Recover Maxine,” Scar answers, his tone decisive. “And not a word about this to Mia until we’ve got her. I won’t have her hopes raised only to be dashed again.”
“And Aslanov?” Lucky asks, already anticipating the answer.
Scar nods in his direction. “We start at the docks. Find out if he or anyone else is running their business there without our knowledge. If he’s forgotten who controls this city, it’s time we remind him. Nothing moves in or out without our approval.”
Lucky gives a tight smile, leaning forward. “Consider it done. What about the girl?” Lucky adds, his tone taking on an edge of mischief.
“Her name is Tayana,” I snap, my voice cutting through the exchange. “Say it. Tayana .”
Lucky chuckles, brushing me off with an easy wave of his hand before turning his attention back to Scar. “I’ll head to the docks,” he says, standing.
Scar glances my way, his tone softening slightly as he continues, “Tayana is under the protection of the Gatti name for as long as she needs it.” His words carry a finality that leaves no room for debate, and I feel an odd sense of gratitude for my brother’s diplomacy.
“What about Seattle?” Mason asks, speaking for the first time. He steps forward, his presence commanding attention.
Scar’s gaze grows distant as he considers the question, the weight of Seattle’s involvement looming in the air. Though Scar was given free rein to run the city with the backing of the five families, he still defers to Dante Accardi out of respect.
“I’ll keep Seattle informed,” Scar finally says, his voice measured. “But I don’t see a reason for them to step in right now. Let’s show this city what the Gattis are made of.”