Chapter 9 #2
“He should care. This is his damn territory. Doesn’t he get suspicious of all the other families and gangs?
” It’s the same questions we’ve been asking each other since the bodies started appearing.
Why isn’t he more concerned? Does he not see it as the threat it is?
Someone is stepping into our territory, taking our citizens, and butchering them for their organs.
Each and every one that pops up is missing kidneys, hearts, livers, skin, and everything in between. It’s fucking alarming.
“You would think,” I huff, getting nothing in return from Franco. Typical of him. Why should he care that bodies are piling up in his fucking city? Unless he’s the one responsible.
I lock eyes with JJ, who raises his brows like he’s on the same wavelength as me.
“This year is going to be lit,” Mack quips with excitement, oblivious to the important conversation happening around him. He flashes us his signature smirk. The same one that has been his mask for years, covering up the hurt bubbling inside him.
“Something like that,” I mutter in response, earning a look from him. But I ignore it.
My eyes glide from left to right, taking in the multitude of familiar and new faces walking through campus. Some look terrified. Others are confident and ready for campus life.
“Fucking freshman,” Mack grunts, shoving past a tall, scared looking kid who gapes at Mack. Probably hoping for an apology that won't come.
I shrug at the kid whose brows furrow. His lips pop open to retort, but we walk faster than he can speak.
No matter, he can take it up with Mack at the Coliseum, if he sees fit.
Although I’d advise him not to. Mack’s a damn rage machine in the ring against opponents, taking them down with three or four punches.
“Don't be such a dick,” JJ huffs softly, shaking his head.
“Eh. It's the little freshies that piss me off. Why’re they always in my way?” Mack speaks the rest of his sentence loudly, parting the sea of people down the middle so we can pass through. Even parents pull their kids out of the way.
Normal people would offer the concerned parentals a placating tight smile or a shrug, but I don't offer either. I keep my eyes forward. Despite the nagging feeling pulling at my gut.
Something is wrong.
“How about a party tonight at the frat house? A real welcome to your new hell?” Mack grins, rubbing his hands together like an evil mastermind of some sort.
“Your new hell,” JJ grunts, shaking his head.
“Sure. I'm sure our members would love that.” They would, too. We currently have five frat brothers pledged to our cause.
Our house.
Our gang.
“Even the pledges,” Mack chortles with a grin that could put the Grinch to shame.
“They won't be pledges for very much longer,” JJ reminds him with a huff.
Soon, the people who pledged themselves, played our games, and took on jobs over the summer to prove themselves will be full members of our way of life. AKA joining Franco's ever-growing gang.
“We'll get new ones. New initiates. Just like we did last year. Another cemetery party and then the real games can begin. Should we make them stand naked in a field and pretend to be a scarecrow again?” Mack walks backwards, staring at us with hope in his cruel eyes.
“We'll devise new games this year. We need to test their strengths and discover their weaknesses.
You know they're pledging to…” JJ wrinkles his nose, shifting his gaze toward our home on the hill, above the graveyard beside the college that has expanded to its fence line.
“All that.” He says it like a bad taste explodes on his tongue, twisting his expression.
“I do love our planning sessions,” Mack says, wiggling his brows. “I got a whole list written down of fun activities to test them.” AKA Mack has some sadistic shit written down that we'll all have to vote on.
Why my father left the three of us in charge of recruiting college-aged kids, I'll never know. Maybe it was to give us a purpose while we get our degrees, so we don’t wander off, change our names, and start a new life.
Or maybe he has trust in us to live for our cause and continue the gang when he’s long gone.
Either way, we’re forced to stay and live this life without a choice.
The crowd’s chatter fades as we leave campus behind, heading toward Syndicate Strip—the old frat row.
Five grand, pristine houses stand in a row, representing a haven for mafia members and gangs that attend here.
A place where they carve out their turf, study at Greenwood, and make connections that run deeper than any degree they could ever get their hands on.
These are our prospective kingdoms while we wait to rule.
I tune Mack out as he goes on about the initiation games, we make our new pledges participate in every year to join our faction. The Franco Syndicate. A gang organization. The rulers of Southern California. And now? Way beyond.
Franco sips his whiskey, staring at us the entire time.
“We’ll be bigger than the Viotto bastards,” he grunts, slamming his glass down.
“California will be ours. All of it. Every state in the fucking vicinity will be ours and then?” He smirks again, leaning against his desk with a dreamy expression floating across his features. “The world is our damn oyster.”
“You want to take from the Viotto’s?” I ask cautiously.
The Viotto’s are a crime family. The fucking mafia.
Raised to take pieces of California for themselves and rule them as their kingdoms. They have their slices, and Franco has his–Greenwood, California.
A place they want, but have never got their greedy fingers on.
Oh, they’ve tried, inciting war on Franco. But never succeeded.
In one last failed attempt at getting a slice of our pie, they sent Raphael Viotto.
A disgraced member of their family, to assist Franco as a second-in-command.
Franco wasn’t dumb. He knew the deal had stipulations and a built-in spy.
But he let Raph stay on our property. Assist in deals with other mob and mafia families.
Raph Viotto was involved with everything Franco did, even coming to their own damn alliance.
Franco paces in front of his desk, going on and on about how the planet will be his, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop him.
Except us. Me, maybe. One day soon, Franco will be on his knees for the crimes he’s perpetuated against others, including the three of us whom he called his children.
“We’ll eliminate anyone who gets in our way,” Franco huffs, shakily running his hands through his dark hair. “Even those fucking Viotto snakes,” he hisses with malice.
“Howdy fuckers. Long time no see,” Jaxon says, bumping straight into me with the lazy grin he always wears. Nothing bothers that fucker. He’s pure fucking chaos. And also a part of the mob–a set of families invited to Greenwood by my father.
His grin grows when he sees the tension lining my face. Nothing pleases him more than riling me up and challenging me to a fight in the ring.
“Sup, assholes,” Mack says with genuine joy lighting up his face.
“Ready for our last year here? Can you believe it? The last time we stand here on a first fucking day,” Jaxon says, turning to look over his shoulder at the people milling around campus across the street.
“Can’t come soon enough,” I huff, aching to go home and surround myself with music and nothing else. My bedroom is my damn sanctuary. The only spot I can be myself and relax.
“You’re telling me. Levi and I were just talking about life after this shit hole,” he quips, slapping his brother on the chest. In return, Levi shoves him off without saying anything.
“This is our shit hole,” I quip, crossing my arms when Jaxon smirks, eager to retort, but doesn't get the chance.
“Eager to rule your piece of your kingdom?” Mack asks, wiggling his brows.
If there’s one ally we’ve gained through the past four years, it’s these two, despite them being our supposed enemies or whatever Franco claims. We’ve done our best to keep up the illusion of spying on the others brought here by him.
Jaxon rolls his eyes toward the sky. “Oh yes, so eager to run the club and games and shit. I can’t wait to leave the weather here and go back to the cold winters and more duties.”
Levi glares at his brother before slapping him on the shoulder and nodding to the side.
“Anyway. Duty calls. We have to set up the house and welcome our new little pledges into the family business. They’ll be so pleased to see what we have in store for them.” He grins so brightly, I know it’s going to be bloody.
“No deaths,” JJ says, narrowing his eyes.
“In all the years you’ve known me, have I ever murdered someone?
” JJ’s eyes narrow at Jaxon, who huffs. “Okay, on campus? What do you fellas take me for? A killer? You guys are so insulting.” He puts a hand over his heart, shaking his head as Levi pulls him away.
I don’t think that one likes us very much. Or anyone really.
With that, the Rizuto brothers march away down the sidewalk and walk up the stairs to their home on campus.
“Let’s check in at the frat house,” I say, nodding toward the large home looming a few steps away.
“Gotta check on our little pledges! You think they set up the margarita machine yet? That’s always a hit.” Mack wiggles his brows again with a laugh.
“You seriously sent them a list of shit to do already?” JJ huffs as we walk beside each other.
“Um. Of course I did! What fun is it to have little pledges at our disposal if I can’t order them to set up the damn margarita machine?” He scoffs at JJ, giving him a dirty look. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”
We continue our walk, and just as we're passing by our lovely neighbors, a familiar voice rings out tauntingly.
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in!” Malic sing-songs from the porch, while sporting his familiar grin.