Chapter 10
Matt
The intensity of my phone call with Aron stays with me into the next day. I find myself distracted, distanced from my duties. There’s still a lot to do after the fiasco at the docks, and Javier’s remaining men bite at our heels even harder now.
Three attacks on my people since that night, with the loss of two of our newly recruited thieves, Evan and Lyta, who were gunned down while out for a casual stroll.
Even the press is picking up on the heated rivalry between our two organizations, though I use that term loosely in reference to Javier’s Empire.
His people are out of control. Syndicate men and women know there’s a time and place for battles, and an open, public street is not one of them.
Even worse than the public execution of my people is the message drawn in blood at the scene:
For Aron.
They’re all insane. No one who’s met Aron would think he’d want this.
Still no sign of Jules, who Aron warned me about at the manor.
I can’t believe I had a mole right under my nose this whole time.
Jules seemed so loyal and trustworthy, but I guess I have to stop trusting so easily.
To think that he fed information to Javier on a regular basis, even helped coordinate the attacks on Dad’s holdings that started this whole messy war …
I guess anyone can be bought for the right price.
In a way, I’m glad Aron is safely tucked away at our manor. I don’t want him to see the atrocities committed in his name, and I don’t want him putting himself at risk to right them. Besides, with Aron hiding out, I’m free to act with impunity.
I’m free to be myself.
As soon as word of Evan and Lyta’s deaths makes the news, I issue an edict: Only children are safe.
Javier did this to himself. Emily did this to herself by aligning with Javier. By betraying Aron. If they’re going to open the playing field for killing women, then there’s nowhere Emily can hide, nowhere she can go that I can’t get to her.
I will make them pay. I swear on my life that they’ll pay for what they did to Aron.
Plans start with strategically timed attacks on Javier’s known locations. My people kill ten of his in the first day, with even more severely wounded. Tactical strikes, but at random intervals. The goal is to leave Javier and Emily guessing. Let them wonder where and when the next hit will come.
There’s a cost to this, of course. Javier pushes back with a fury, and soon a war of attrition breaks out in our city. Syndicate men kill five of his, Empire men kill two of ours. We’re still ahead, but only barely.
Since it’s not fair to Cinder and Gia to put them in harm’s way, I keep them at the mansion, away from any risks. I’d hate for one of them to be hurt or killed by Javier’s people. They’re more or less innocents in this, women who joined the Syndicate for survival rather than by choice.
Not like Emily. Emily made her decision, and she’ll live and die by it.
Throughout these minor battles, I keep my sanity by texting Aron, stealing moments with him in my busy days. It’s still not prudent to leave the mansion to be with him, but our nights together on the phone help me balance the violence of my days running the Syndicate.
Every night, I introduce Aron to a new film, one of my favorites.
He’s not one for roleplay or fantasies, not one for sexy movies, but he obliges, listening to me read the lines while we each fuck ourselves silly.
I honestly think he could get off without the movies playing as long as I was reading the dialogue.
That seems to be what pleases him the most: my voice.
Well, what pleases him most in our current situation. I bet something else of mine might please him more if I could be there in person.
One night, during our evening call, a loud knocking on my door interrupts us.
I’m keeping my voice quiet enough, but it might seem strange to whoever’s there if I open up with no one in the room with me to be talking to.
I toss on some pants and tap on the door to the adjoining suite of rooms Cinder shares with her guard, Gia. “Cin? Hey! I need you out here.”
Luckily, they weren’t in the middle of fucking each other. Cinder comes right out in what for most men is probably a sexy negligee, but to me, it’s just underwear. She’s not sweaty or out of breath, though, so I didn’t break up anything important.
“What’s wrong?” she whispers.
“I don’t know, but it had better be important to be banging on my door this fucking late.”
When Gia comes out—dressed in casual loungewear, something not unusual for a guard to sleep in—and opens the door to see who it is, Cinder and I are already under the covers together, and I’ve quickly changed the porno to a hetero one. With any luck, our knocker won’t suspect anything.
“Uh, boss?” Rico cranes his neck to see around Gia. “We have a problem.”
“What fucking problem is interrupting our relations, Rico?”
His face reddens, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “The Empire struck one of our warehouses downtown. The one on Sixteenth Street.”
Fuck. Half our arms stock was in that warehouse. “How much did they get?” I ask as I shut off the TV with a groan.
“They, er, didn’t get anything so much as they blew it all up.”
“What?”
He flinches at my shout. “Nothing was stolen. Our one survivor—young Miles, not the older Miles—said they didn’t try to break in or take any crates. They just fired grenades and took off.”
Great. That’s almost worse than if they’d stolen our supply.
Now the cops will know what we’ve been up to there.
Granted, we’ve got the title to the warehouse under a shell company’s name, and it will probably take them months to trace anything directly to us, but that will still bring heat that we don’t want.
“What do you want us to do, Don Matteo?”
I ponder for a moment. We obviously have to strike back, and strike bigger, but I need time to plan. “How many died?”
“Seven.”
Too many. “Send money and condolences to their families, if they had them, and wake the officers for a meeting. We’ll convene in ten in my office.”
“But—”
“Ten. Minutes.”
Having been sufficiently dismissed, Rico jogs down the hall to wake my men.
Some of my officers live outside the mansion, so ten minutes really is unreasonable, but I also want to convey the urgency of the matter.
They’ll all show up in no less than fifteen, some likely still in their bedclothes, but they’ll be ready.
As we gather in my office, I have Rico serve brandy to everyone at the table, which includes Cinder.
Gia declines, as she should, but I appreciate that Rico offered to them.
I’ve been trying to subtly indoctrinate my men to accept women as equals.
Though everyone knows Cinder is my girlfriend, at least as far as the rank and file goes, a don’s girlfriend deserves a spot at the table with the rest of the men, too.
My reasoning behind this is a bit more sinister: I want them to recognize women as equals for the express purpose of their acceptance when I kill Emily with my own two hands.
“How many are dead this time?” Yancy Gale asks as he takes his seat across from me.
Yancy made his name by climbing the ranks of the Syndicate from the very bottom, earning respect from myself and others who appreciated his cutthroat determination.
His scarred visage is testament to the fights he won to get where he is.
“Seven,” Rico answers, ducking his head when I shoot a glare in his direction. I should be answering any questions here … unless I pose them, in which case the officers should answer. Guards are not meant to be heard at these things.
Creed Wilson, an older officer who’s been in the inner circle since my father’s days, snorts at Rico’s disrespect.
“This is who you have guarding you these days, Don Matteo? Maybe we should train some more, train ‘em right, so they know what’s what.” He slams a fist down on the table, then points at Rico. “You’re lucky the don is forgiving.”
“Enough, Creed.” I raise a hand to quiet the swelling cacophony of voices chiming in on the matter. “Enough, all of you. The point is not whether or not our guards know their place; it’s whether or not that fucker Javier knows his place, and it’s clear that he doesn’t.”
Creed sits back in his seat, but judging by the ruddy tone to his cheeks and his refusal to give up the subject, this isn’t his first glass of the evening. “Javier was a fucking guard, too.”
“I’m aware,” I say evenly. “But if we get rid of all the guards, who watches us, hm? We’d all be dead without our trusted assistants.
Now is not the time to demonize any one position in the Syndicate.
Everyone is valuable, and everyone has a place.
Some just need to learn their place better than others. ”
Rico opens his mouth to respond, but I shut him up with a subtle gesture. I won’t have him aggravating Creed in his current state, no matter how valid I think his argument might be.
“So, what are we going to do now? How will we retaliate?”
This comes from Marco Lin, who was my dad’s treasurer for more than twenty years. Marco’s smart; he knows we can’t let an attack like this go unanswered.
I wait until I have everyone’s full attention before I answer.
“Tomorrow night, we strike at his heart. We’ll mount an attack on his new penthouse suites. Everyone who isn’t under the age of eighteen dies.”
Gasps of shock ripple around the table.
“But Don Matteo … Aron’s widow—”
“Is as much of a traitor as Javier is. As Aron was. She gets no mercy.”
It kills me to keep up the rumor that Aron died a traitor, but I can’t let anyone know he’s alive. Even Cinder and Gia don’t know; I’ve been keeping my phone calls quiet. They mourned him in their own way, and someday I’ll have to beg forgiveness for that ruse.
Creed takes it best of them all, though I still don’t like his attitude. “Fine. What’s the bounty?”
A man of principle, I see. I stand slowly and place my palms on the table, staring Creed down. “Bounty? This is for the fucking Royal Syndicate. You want a bounty, go get a job with the bail bondsmen.”
“I’m not a fucking narc, Matteo. I just think there’s an awful lot of risk to this venture, with little to no real reward.”
Before I can comment on his manners, a knife appears at Creed’s throat. Rico’s other hand grips his scalp, holding his head back and exposing his neck. “You forget your place, Creed. That’s Don Matteo.”
Creed growls, but he doesn’t fight back. “Sorry, Don. What’s the plan, then?”
Since Rico has a handle on things, I sit back down. “Listen closely, gentlemen—and ladies. After tomorrow, the Empire will be little more than dust.”