Bonus Epilogue
Jude
Five years later
I stiffen my spine as my father slams his fists on the table, hollering orders to every last capo in the room, his face turning redder with each command and ruthless word. Although his loud voice creates a cacophony of sounds bouncing off the walls, it can’t measure up to the screaming thoughts bombarding my head.
How did this happen under our watch?
How the fuck did this happen?
I feel my lips thin and assume the most stoic expression—the best one I can muster while facing such fury, both from my father and my own mind—hoping no made man in attendance can read my inner turmoil.
I once again look up to my Capo dei Capi , who is at the head of the table, realizing for the first time how I’ve never seen him this unhinged before. All my life, my father has always been an ice sculpture of poise and cool, seemingly empty of emotion. As a boy, I used to wish I had the ability to thaw out his icy persona, but as I see the flames burning viciously in his eyes, I’d give anything for his cold, calculated form to make an appearance once more.
This is a boss I’ve never seen in all of my ten years serving the Outfit. However, I find myself not being entirely surprised by the apparition, either. I always speculated that a dormant, blood-thirsty demon lived under Vincent Romano’s well-placed, arctic facade. Unbeknownst to him, growing up, I had heard stories of his madness when Mom disappeared at just eighteen years old, leaving behind him and everyone else she loved, for their own protection. Many a time I had eavesdropped on older mafiosi as they shared a plethora of macabre rumors amongst themselves, and long, exaggerated tales about the carnage their capo had left behind in each city he had gone to looking for my mother. The tortures, slashed-up throats, and bullet-ridden bodies left in his wake, in the eternal search for his tesoro, only to return to Chicago a few years later—empty-handed and empty-hearted—creating the boss they fear and respect to this day.
But this?
This is a whole other beast.
If the stories are true, then this man who stands raging before me now, will make those ominous years of the past seem like a small palate cleanser compared to the sinister, full-course meal he’s wholly intent on dishing out.
While I wish I could be the clear head and chastise him for losing his composure amongst his men—and bring him some form of clarity and sense to rein in his temper—I find myself unequipped to handle my own rage, let alone confront the mad, grieving man in front of me.
The fury that’s poisoning my blood, pumping the vile stuff into my heart, is wreaking havoc on all my senses. The intense ringing in my ears, brought on by its tumultuous thumping, is becoming too excruciating to bear in silence. Yet I bite my inner cheek to keep myself mute a little longer, letting the venom coat my tongue and increasing my anger further. Every breath I take feels like hot coal scorching my lungs, while the rib cage that is suffering the burden of constricting the erratic, drumming organ inside my chest feels as if it’s just brittle bone, seconds away from collapsing altogether, showing everyone here that I’m as possessed as the boss who is calling out for bloody retaliation.
Who has the audacity to pull off something like this?
Who is crazy enough to even try?
Unable to continue watching my father’s dive into the dark abyss of madness he’s so eager to welcome—fearing I’m just one step behind him—I look to the two men at his side who are as much paternal figures to me as he is, hoping they will tether me to the ground, away from the brink of insanity. However, to my dismay, I get no comfort or relief from either man’s face.
The usually calm and relaxed Giovanni looks as if he’s ready to tear the world in half with his bare hands. The man who would rather resolve problems with his brains than his fists, and with a mocking joke on his lips while doing it, is nowhere in sight. Instead, his warm, chestnut eyes are intense, deep black pools filled with nothing but vengeance and wrath. His rancor kindles further with every grizzly promise of retribution my father utters.
And if I thought Giovanni would be the one to keep it together, which he is anything but, then I’m not shocked when my eyes land on the Outfit’s head enforcer, to find him just as deranged. Like an angel of death, ready to reap wretched souls, Dominic stands with gritted teeth, clenching his razor-sharp knives, apt to flay any made man here who says a wrong word or even gives him a funny look. His clear blue eyes scrutinize the long table, trying to determine if the culprit behind our family’s profuse hemorrhaging might be sitting quietly in our midst, laughing at our pain and misery.
As I scan each man, I can’t think of a single one who would be so foolishly ambitious to try and commit such a deplorable act. In doing so, they must have realized this would end with only one result—death. Whoever did this is living on borrowed time. Their life must be forfeited to pay for such a betrayal. So the pertinent question is not who is crazy enough to go after the heart of our family, but who doesn’t give a shit if they live or die, as long as their actions hurt us.
Who has a vendetta on our family that is worth their own life to pursue it? Who?
And if they are so callous with their own lives, then I doubt they will do anything to protect hers.
“Is that fucking understood?!” I hear my father belt out, bringing me back to the nightmare at hand. Every head at this table, if not bowed in fear, has their eyes reluctantly fixed on their boss. They all have blood rushing from their faces, leaving them pale and eerily gaunt. “I said, is that FUCKING understood?!” he roars again, slamming his fists on the table with such force that I fear another punch will surely break the massive wooden top in half.
“Yes, Boss,” mumble the men who still have enough nerve to give my father an answer, while the others are too terrified to even open their mouths in reply.
“Well then, get the fuck out of my sight and bring me something I can work with!”
With that final holler, every capo in the room struggles to rush out the door with their tails in between their legs and their lips sealed shut. If I could, I’d laugh at the sight of witnessing such big, bad mafiosi having their asses handed to them, as most of these men are used to striking fear in the hearts of the damned, not the other way around. But all good humor has been stolen from me. Not even watching them scurry out of the room like errant children can bring me any joy.
When the door closes behind the last capo , only my family remains, rooted to their spot in the spacious meeting room in the old Salvatore Romano mansion. A long stretch of silence ensues, and like me, each of my siblings become even more anxious waiting for our Capo dei Capi to say something. It’s only when I hear the door creak open, and my mother walks inside, that I understand we were just waiting for his Red Queen to arrive, so our father could pass his judgment on all of us.
The knot in my throat tightens as I watch my beautiful mother looking half the woman I know her to be. Her once stunningly piercing green eyes look vacant and dead as she walks over to her three men and sits in my father’s chair at the head of the table without uttering a single word to the rest of us.
Dom looks as if his heart, already being twisted and abused inside his chest, just took another punch as he silently takes the seat beside her. Gio follows suit and takes his own respective seat on the other side of the table. He then grabs my mother’s trembling hand on top of her lap to offer her some small solace, while trying hard to hide the fact that he is inches away from his own breaking point.
Only my father remains standing behind her seated form, never once looking at my mother’s distraught face, and I can understand why. The moment he does, the little display of brutality he just showed his men will look like child’s play compared to what will come out once he sees the pain dwelling in the eyes of the woman he loves above all.
I know from experience that, when it comes to Selene Bianchi Romano, there is no one who can affect him more with just one look. My mother will always be the only person who can bring out the best in him, as well as the worst. With a firm, white-knuckle grip on the top of her chair, he finally directs his attention to all of us—his children, except the one who means most right now.
“When you were smaller, I imagined a day like this. It was a constant horror that I tried to keep at the back of my mind. I’ve done everything in my power for it not to swallow me whole while taking precautions for this nightmare never to arrive on my doorstep. But as you all grew, that nagging panic became less of a constant howl in my head, and more like an irrational whisper from my subconscious that I gladly ignored,” he scoffs out, his upper lip snarling in disgust with himself for being so naive. “Overconfidence and complacency have played me for a fool—a mistake that is now costing me, and you, dearly,” he mumbles under his breath, placing his hands on my mother’s shoulders. I watch as she covers one of his hands with her own, making my father shut his eyes in shame. “I’m so sorry, tesoro. I failed you,” he softly whispers.
A lonesome tear streaks down my mother’s anguished face as she squeezes his hand with all the might she still has left inside of her. After a silent conversation with one another, he raises his head to face us again, pain and anger tainting his every feature.
“If there is a lesson to be learned from this, it’s that even the most improbable threat is still very much a danger and not one to be so easily disregarded. One thing this sordid ordeal has made me realize is that, in our world, there will always be arrogant, evil men who will view my children as targets, and use them to weaken me.”
The seconds tick jarringly by as he fixes his stare on each of us, one by one.
“Tell me, are they right? Are my enemies correct in thinking that my children are weak enough to exploit? To bruise and break? To steal away from me?”
“No, they’re not,” I reply sternly, my hands fisting at my sides at the provocation.
“Is that so?” my father questions with his brow cocked up high, clearly disagreeing with my statement. “Because when I look around this room, I can pinpoint each one of your faults and frailties in seconds,” he reprimands, snapping his fingers.
“That’s because you know us,” Lucky chimes in, rolling his eyes.
“And you think my enemies don’t?!” our father shouts back at him. “You think they didn’t do their homework to know you inside and out? That this wasn’t planned with the utmost care? Are you as much of a fool as I am, boy?!”
Lucky opens his mouth to retaliate, but Enzo shuts him up before his twin finds himself in even hotter water.
“That’s not what Lucky meant, Boss. Everyone knows this could only have happened with months of preparation and elaborate intel. Maybe even years. Whoever is at fault took their time. They meticulously knew when and who to attack, so it could only have happened by doing extensive research and shadowing all of us. It’s what we would have done if the roles were reversed.”
A loud sneer rips through my father’s throat, making an icy chill run down my back.
“What you would have done? I’m not sure if I should laugh or weep at that unjustified allegation,” my father replies, running his hands through his hair and pulling at the strands.
“Father.” I hear myself interject, hating how he’s going after the twins so mercilessly, driven by his pain.
“No!” He snaps his head to me and continues, “In this room, I am not your father, Jude, I am your boss! It will pay you well to remember it, especially today!”
I grind my back molars together just to keep myself from hurling my own bitter remark back at him, but in the end, it’s love, loyalty and respect that has me bending to his will.
“It’s this arrogance of thinking we are untouchable that has landed us in this nightmare. I will not suffer through it any longer. If my enemies think my children are this famiglia’s weak spot, then by God, I’m going to show them how wrong they are. You will be the very weapons I will use to bring them down,” he seethes out and then turns his sight to Lucky and Enzo again, pointing the finger at them both as he slays each twin with his words.
“You want me to take you seriously? Then use the assets you were born with to find your sister instead of wasting them on your childish pranks and ludicrous ploys. It’s time for both of you to grow up and finally become the men you swear to already be.”
“Yes, Boss,” both reply in unison, squaring their shoulders to deflect the slap in the face they just received.
When my father switches his attention to the brother sitting at the twins’ side, I forget to breathe. The small chill that had been running down my body spikes, leaving me in nothing but harsh, cold sweats as I watch father and son stare furiously into each other’s eyes.
“And you,” he points to Marcello. “You want my love? My approval? My respect? Then get me the names of all involved. Not only the ones responsible for kidnapping your sister but also the ones who enabled the whole thing. I want everyone, Marcello. Every rotten soul. Is that clear?”
“Consider it done,” Marcello affirms unflinchingly.
If I had blinked, I would have missed the sliver of pride that reached my father’s hazel eyes with my brother’s resolute reply. However, it’s quickly overshadowed by the misery of the events at hand.
Our father then redirects his glare onto the girl who has been in shambles since we discovered our angel had been ripped away from our family.
“Stella, you want to be the Outfit’s blade? Then here is your chance to prove that a woman can be just as deadly as any made man. Pair up with Marcello and shed the necessary blood to bring me the head of the monster responsible for injuring our family. Cut them deep, skin them alive, burn them if you must. I don’t care how you do it, as long as you make them suffer the same way we have.”
“Yes, Boss,” my baby sister replies, wiping the errant tears that make their way down her cheeks.
Lastly, he turns his sights on me, and I feel this spacious room getting smaller and smaller with his scrutinizing glower.
“Jude, you once said this seat was your birthright, remember?” he begins, tilting his head to the chair my mother is sitting in. “But being the head of the Outfit means fuck all to me if you can’t protect your own family,” he says point-blank, unrepentant and uncaring about confirming what many made men whisper behind his back—that their Capo dei Capi holds his family above the Outfit.
Any other day, the profane and blasphemous remark my father made—in the very room the syndicate demands our total alliance and devotion—would have knocked me on my ass. But not today. Today, my father’s words are the truest ones I’ve ever heard him utter inside these walls.
“Are you ready to do whatever is necessary to make sure no bastardo will ever dare come for one of us again? Are you prepared to erase the threats that may be a risk to our way of life? Are you willing to exact justice on who has insulted us by ripping away the only pure thing this family has?”
“I am.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Then prove it. You want my crown, then show me your worth. Bring Annamaria back home, Jude. I want her safe and sound, back to the bosom of her family, along with the head of the wretched soul who dared to take her from us in the first place. That’s the price you must pay if you want to be king. Bring our principessa home, and the throne is yours.”
“On my life, it shall be done.”
And with my oath still lingering on the tip of my tongue, my mother locks her cold eyes with mine to deliver her own demand.
“Make them bleed.”
As soon as we leave the meeting room, I rush off in search of Mina.
She and the Crane twins have been scouring the woods behind Big Sal’s mansion with my father’s men for most of the night, hoping Annamaria might have wandered there with someone—maybe one of the capos’ sons who attended my parents’ twenty-fifth wedding celebration earlier today.
‘Maybe a cute boy flirted with Anna and convinced her to sneak off with him into the woods for a moment alone,’ Mina had proposed after everyone lost their freaking minds when no one had put eyes on my baby sister for over two hours.
But even as Mina offered such a hopeful suggestion, I knew it was impossible.
Annamaria isn’t Stella.
She wouldn’t just run off with the first boy who smiled at her.
Sure, she’s eighteen, but she’s been so sheltered, I doubt she’s even had her first kiss yet.
No.
My gut is telling me that something is wrong.
Something is terribly wrong.
Dawn is fast approaching and still, no one is closer to knowing where she is since the panic alarm rang.
No.
Someone took my baby sister.
I feel it in my bones.
And so does everyone else in our family.
If we didn’t, we wouldn’t feel this unhinged.
“Jude!” Mina calls out when she sees me rushing towards her through the trees.
I grab hold of my wife and keep her close, needing to breathe her scent just to keep me grounded.
“I couldn’t find her,” she sobs. “We’ve looked everywhere, and nothing. It’s like she just disappeared into thin air.”
She didn’t disappear.
Someone took her.
A very dead someone took my sister.
“It’s okay, love. We’ll find her,” I try to console, though the words feel flat even to my own ears.
Mina pulls away from my embrace just far enough to wipe at the tears threatening to break free.
“I sent Remus and Rolo to interrogate all of the guests. If anyone saw her leave, they’ll be sure to find out. How did the meeting with your parents go?”
“Not good. My father,” I pause still thinking about what he said to all of us just a few minutes ago. “He’s not making much sense. He said things that no longer matter. It’s like he wanted to trigger some kind of response from us by poking at old wounds.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He said to bring our principessa home, and that the throne was mine.”
But instead of outrage, Mina’s bloodshot eyes sadden further.
“Your father is grieving, my love. He’s not making any sense because his life doesn’t make sense right now. Nothing does. I wouldn’t read too much into it. He knows you don’t want to be Boss. Everyone has known for years that Marcello will take his place when the time comes. Just give him some grace, Jude. This must be his worst nightmare come to pass.”
“Not just his,” I retort, feeling like someone is carving out my heart with a dull knife.
“I know. I know. I feel it too,” she says, nestling her head against my chest.
I kiss the top of my wife’s head and hold her tight.
“Why her?” I whisper, showing my agony to the only person who won’t judge me for it. “Why Anna? She’s an innocent. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Out of all of us who have blood on our hands, why pick the one who has abstained from such a life?”
And that’s when my wife takes a step back, her whole body shaking, eyes panicked.
“I’ve been going about this the wrong way. He didn’t pick Annamaria because she was vulnerable or an easy target. He didn’t take her because of who she is—but because of what she means to us. He knew that taking her from this family would destroy us, one by one.”
“He?” I cock a confused brow.
“I think I know who kidnapped Annamaria.” She swallows her fear. “It was him. It has to be him. They way he looked at her…”
“Mina, who are you talking about?” I give my wife a little shake.
“Matteo. It was Matteo Donato. I’d bet my life on it.”
To be continued in Vicious Games .