Chapter 12
Matt
Aron doesn’t answer his phone that night, nor the next three. Is he okay? Did one of the Empire survivors find him at the manor?
Worry troubles my mind. I can’t concentrate, and the Syndicate suffers for it.
Splinter cells of survivors nip at us every day, attacking with drive by shootings and Molotov cocktails.
Shouts of “For Don Aron!” are heard on surveillance recordings at the scenes, which confuses me.
They should still think Aron is dead—and since when is he their don?
Unfortunately, I can’t leave to check on the manor right away.
With the heat rising, I have to make sure my affairs at the mansion are in order, make sure the Royal Syndicate will keep running while I’m gone.
It takes days to arrange for Yancy to hold the reins while I disappear on “business,” days to set up the necessary protocols and infrastructure to keep the Syndicate operational if an emergency arises.
Finally, more than a week after the manor went silent, I slip away from the mansion in the dead of night, stealing a guard’s car to get off the grounds, then swapping cars at random intervals along the way. By the time I reach the manor, I’ve long since lost any possible tail.
The first thing I notice is the absence of the Chevy truck Aron stole to get to the manor after the firefight on the docks. Not necessarily a sign that he left willingly, but definitely worrisome.
Inside, the manor is deathly quiet. Dust motes dance in the shafts of morning sunlight, but nothing else moves. The fuse box is off, and after turning the power back on, I search the massive house to find a handful of belongings are missing. Clothes. Food. Bandages.
One thing, though, is not missing, and I stare down at Aron’s burner phone, placed neatly next to the living room remote, with a chill running up my spine.
He left.
He left after seeing something on the TV.
I pick up the controller with a shaking hand and hit the power button. The TV blares to life, set to a local news station.
Local news. Sudden departure. A few quick timing calculations later, and it all adds up to one thing: Aron saw reports of the hit on Javier’s penthouse building.
I don’t understand why he’d leave, though. He had to know I took precautions, made sure the baby was safely away before attacking. We discussed this very strategy … It’s how I had the intel on the penthouse location and security detail in the first place. Did he think I wouldn’t follow through?
Did he not trust me?
A raw, primal scream of rage rips from my throat as I hurl Aron’s phone at the TV. The giant screen cracks, but I don’t care. Nothing matters anymore.
He didn’t trust me. He didn’t wait for me to secure the city, didn’t wait for me to rescue his daughter like I promised to, didn’t wa
it for me to come back. He just ran off on his own and took up the mantle of the Empire’s don in his father’s absence.
Maybe … maybe that was his plan.
Maybe Don Aron played me.
Fuck, I’ve been an idiot! The setup at the docks, Aron appearing here, the fucking phone calls every night … He played me like a fucking fiddle.
Storming out of the manor, I pull my cell out of my pocket and turn it back on. Within seconds, Holly texts with the appropriate code to ask if I’m okay. I text back a coded message detailing where I went and what’s going on—or at least as detailed as I dare.
By the time I return to the mansion, the entire estate is a flurry of activity. Guards rush back and forth getting supplies ready for an assault on Aron’s new hideout, wherever that might be, and Yancy waits for me at my office with Cinder, Gia, and Rico in attendance.
“What’s the situation? Do we know where to strike yet?” I breeze past Yancy to stand behind my desk.
“Holly and Hank are narrowing down their potential locations now. Any property that Javier sank money into will be fully investigated.”
I slam a fist on my desk. “We don’t need to investigate every fucking property!
Just focus fire on the ones large enough to contain his forces.
We need to hit them hard and hit them where it hurts.
I want their homes razed. I want their comfort zones annihilated.
I want them running scared. I want them to wake up in a cold sweat every night in fear of our next move. ”
“But what about the baby?” Cinder flinches as my glare redirects to her. “We said no kids, Matteo. If we do a wide sweep of their properties, odds are we’re going to hurt someone’s kids.”
“Then maybe they’ll learn this life is no place for a kid.”
My words are cold, harsh, but they speak a truth that I am uniquely qualified to know.
Before Cinder can protest further, I turn to Yancy. “Get all our people who aren’t actively part of a raid inside the estate. I want every family in the mansion, and I want this building locked down. No one gets in who isn’t Syndicate.”
“But Don Matteo, there’s not enough room here. That’s why we moved so many to the apartment complex. If we try to—”
“Excuse me? Who’s in charge here?”
Yancy recoils slightly, then squares his jaw and gives a small nod. “You, Don.”
As Yancy leaves to carry out my orders, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and check the screen. Unknown number.
“Leave me.”
Cinder and Gia exchange worried glances, and Rico frowns, but they leave without question.
My heart races as I press to answer and lift the phone to my ear, but my hands are steady. I wait for the caller to identify himself, though I suspect I already know who it is.
“You shouldn’t have attacked the penthouse.”
“You should’ve trusted me.”
Aron snorts. “Trust you to kill my daughter? Is that what you mean?”
“She was safely away at the time, surrounded by guards, while her mother spent stolen Syndicate funds on clothes and toys.”
“Oh, please! I know for a fact that the twins have recovered nearly every penny that Dad stole from the Syndicate. What’s left is purely Empire money.” Aron’s tone is cold. Calculating. It’s the tone he used to reserve for Syndicate turncoats and rivals.
The tone he uses on enemies.
“She was safe,” I say again, but I can’t match Aron’s icy voice. My pain reverberates through the phone line with each whispered word.
“Dad wasn’t safe. Dozens died.”
“And my father was safe when Javier attacked the Syndicate? An eye for an eye, Aron.”
“So, you’re doling out God’s punishment now, is that it? Since when do you even believe in God, let alone follow one word of His teachings?”
Hypocrite. “You never cared about the church before this. You’ve killed plenty in your day, Aron. Don’t try to claim the moral high ground here when you’ve got more blood on your hands than I ever have.”
“I haven’t even begun to bloody my hands.”
I open my mouth to retort, but the line disconnects. I’m left conflicted, both seething with rage and aching with the pain of losing Aron’s trust.
Of losing Aron.
I have to get out of here. Clear my head.
Escape.
Flinging open the door to my office, I’m relieved to see Rico standing guard in the otherwise empty hallway.
“Have the twins found Aron’s hiding place yet?” I ask.
“No word yet, Don. They’re still working on it.”
I nod absently, my mind working as well, though on other angles. “Rico, what are your thoughts on the, erm, rumors surrounding me. The ones you mentioned in the gym.”
His face reddens, and his throat bobs as he swallows hard. “None of my business, Don Matteo. Whether they’re true or not, you’re still the same Don. The same leader I’d follow to the grave if need be.”
“And if I led you outside the mansion? Somewhere isolated, discreet?”
“I’d be right there with you.”
I can see the emotions warring on his face. He wants to please me, but he’s not one hundred percent certain about following me down that particular path.
I shouldn’t push him. I should stop while I still can.
“Meet me in the garage in twenty, Rico. Bring at least one change of clothes.”
“But—”
“Twenty.”
“Yes, sir.”
Aron already knows where the manor is, so I can’t go there. It’s a risk going anywhere, really, especially when I’m on his bad side, but I need privacy. I need to burn some excess energy, get my emotions in check, and Rico is the safest bet.
I’ll find a hotel. Somewhere rundown, out of the way, unexpected. I just need a few hours away from all this, a few hours with a willing partner. It’s not Aron, but he’ll do for now.