Chapter 5 #3
I kick him hard in his ribs, sending him sprawling onto his back, then drop my knee onto his throat.
He gasps for air, eyes bulging with panic.
I lean down and whisper, “No, you won’t.
Do you know why I’m certain you won’t kill me, Father?
” I press harder when I spit out the word.
“Because you’re too much of a coward to do it yourself.
And as it seems, you no longer hold enough sway to manipulate anyone into doing your dirty work for you.
” His breathing turns frantic at the remark.
“Does that shock you, old man?” I taunt.
“That you have more enemies than friends? That the famiglia is no longer interested in your rule, much less your orders?”
“Lies!” he spits out. “Lies! I am the boss! They must follow me! Obey me!”
“On paper perhaps,” I scoff. “Nothing more. You are just a reminder of how the Cosa Nostra fell. No one cares whether you live or die. Like me, they want you gone.” My voice drops. “And I’m more than happy to oblige them.”
With that threat still hanging in the air, I release him and straighten. My father scrambles backward, fear etched plainly across his face.
“Then why not kill me now?” he demands. “If all you say is true, then why not kill me now?”
“Because you’re still of use to me. That’s the only reason you’ll leave this house on your own two feet and not in a body bag.” I then meet his beady gaze without blinking. “But tread carefully, Don Carlo. The moment you no longer fit my plans, your time will end.”
My father finally sees it—the promise of vengeance. Everything he did to me. To my brothers. To my mother. He understands that whatever life he has left is because I allow it.
He shoots us a scathing look, or so he believes, and leaves without further word.
“Nico,” I say tightly, clenching and unclenching my fists, “tend to our mother.”
“And him?” Niccolò asks, eyeing the door left open by our father as he ran with his tail between his legs.
“Call our men downstairs and tell them to pick him up and escort him to one of our safe houses the second he walks out. He’s not to leave until I get there, no matter what he threatens them with.”
I want to kill him. I need to kill him. But I can’t. Not yet.
If I’m going to do this right, his end must be earned.
After making the call, I watch Niccolò grab a bedsheet off the bed and wrap it carefully around our mother’s frail body.
“Where are we going?” she asks, her eyes empty of real awareness.
“Nico’s going to take you back to your room so you can rest, okay, Mom?” I say gently, knowing Niccolò won’t have the words for her.
“Okay,” she nods, allowing him to carry her.
Niccolò takes her down the hall to her bedroom, and Raffaele moves to follow, but I prevent him from taking another step.
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
Raffaele looks at me as if I’d just slapped him. As if the question sucker punched him right in the gut.
“I tried. Don’t you think I tried?”
“Not hard enough.”
Raffaele’s forlorn expression morphs into one of utter rage. He stares at me with such hatred burning behind his eyes that a part of me becomes stained by it.
I’m sure he did try to stop the devil from hurting our mother. I’m sure he gave it all he could. But as it stands, it wasn’t enough. If it had been me, I would have preferred death than let the monster drag my mother into his bed. At seventeen, Raffaele should have had the same mindset.
If I don’t do right by my brother, then who will?
“Tomorrow, you’ll start shadowing Nico and learn what it means to be a Donato.” Raffaele’s eyes widen at my words, and what they mean.
“But I’m supposed to go to college next fall.”
“Not anymore. You will be inducted into the Cosa Nostra, just like your brothers were before you. The time for pretending is over. You have a duty to uphold.”
“Bullshit! I have no such duty!”
“No?” I snap. “Then what about honor? Or do you lack that, too? You must, considering you stood by and let that pile of filth touch our mother!” His glare sharpens, throwing daggers at me, but I don’t stop.
“Enough, Rafe! Enough playing pretend like this life was never meant for you. Enough fantasies of getting out. Of living like a normal man. Enough!” My voice hardens further.
“I’ve deluded you long enough. I’ve protected you long enough. It ends today.”
“Carlo wouldn’t have wanted this.” He shakes his head, angry tears now watering his eyes.
“Carlo isn’t here,” I say flatly. “I am.”
Raffaele swallows thickly and wipes the blood from his lip. “If you do this… if you force me to take the omertá… I will never forgive you.” The threat tightens around my throat like a noose.
I know he means it. But it isn’t me forcing him into this life—it’s his last name that did that long before I ever could.
All I can do now is make him strong enough to bear it.
Most of all, I need him to be able to fight those who would harm our family.
I need him to be more like me. More like Niccolò.
And for as much as I despise our last name, I need him to be a Donato.
Letting Raffaele believe he had a choice was the cruelest lie of all.
And now I’m the one who must face his scorn for Carlo planting that fantasy in his head—that he could live untouched by blood and duty.
As the youngest of four brothers, maybe Raffaele might have had that chance once.
However, there are only three of us now.
And if the Cosa Nostra is to flourish, if it’s to break free from the chains of the Outfit, then I’ll need all my brothers standing beside me. Even if reluctantly.
I step closer, place my hand on his shoulder, and state evenly, “Hate me all you want, Rafe. I am more than capable of carrying its weight. I will prepare you for this life, and once I’m finished with you, no innocent will ever suffer at the hands of evil men under your watch again. Is that understood?”
Shame and guilt crash into him all at once. “I tried,” he stammers, fresh tears filling his eyes.
“I know you did,” I say more patiently. “But it wasn’t enough, Rafe.” My grip tightens just slightly. “Is that how you want to go through life? Not being strong enough to protect the ones you love?”
Raffaele steps back, as if my words, combined with my touch, repulsed him now.
“I’m no coward!”
“I never said you were. But what use is bravery if you don’t have the strength to back it up?” A tear streaks down his cheek as the accusation settles in his chest.
I see how it breaks him. How it devastates him. But I also see when the boy he was begins to step aside, and lets the man he was always born to be take center stage.
“Fine,” he says, roughly wiping at his face. “Train me. Induct me. Do whatever you want.” His eyes narrow into two slits. “But I refuse to become a monster. I refuse to become you.”
And with that, he turns and walks away.