Chapter 34
Finn
I watch as the beautiful black iron gates of the Greenhouse slowly open up, allowing cars, including mine, to drive through.
A few others follow behind me as I pass the gate, and the inside is breathtaking.
The kind of place where deals are made, empires are protected, and betrayal feels like part of the decor.
The lawn is perfect, and the trees lining each path are perfectly pruned into beautiful shapes. Security swarms over every corner. It's a sight to see, Irish and Italians working together.
I think the correct term is watching each other.
No one trusts anyone. Vito made the decision to host the meeting at the Greenhouse—his upstate estate.
The sprawling property had been emptied of family days before.
Anywhere the Rossos actually lived would have meant blood before the first words.
I pass by a water fountain with two mermaid sculptures, their tails connecting at the base, and water slowly drips out of the clam shells in their hands.
The cars in front of me begin to slow down, and I get the memo. I slow down my car, parking just a few steps from the mermaid fountain. I watch through my windshield as Declan and a few of the Irish I recognize follow behind him. Their perfectly tailored suits make them look ready for war.
My eyes flick from the entrance to my dash mirror and trace my hand over the faintly visible scar on my eyebrow.
It's one of the many places that have yet to completely heal.
My eyes land on my shirt collar, making sure it's properly buttoned.
I remember Gianna's words from this morning, back at the house as she helped me into my suit jacket, her eyes filled with worry.
"Declan has to see you look good. He has to know he didn't break you."
I step out of the car, my boots crunching against the gravel.
The air is heavy with anxiety over the change that will happen today.
I close the door a little too hard, which sends a small pain to my healing ribs.
I make my way with the rest of the men into the mansion.
The cream-colored stone walls glint under the sun, the tall windows like eyes, watching everything, knowing everything.
Two guards approach me, thick-necked men in fitted black suits, sunglasses hiding their eyes.
"Arms out," one says, and I oblige. They sweep a handheld scanner down my sides, starting from my neck to my leg. Another pats me down, methodical and precise. They search my boots, feel under the collar of my jacket, and even my belt buckle.
These are just protocols to follow.
A lot of powerful men are in this building, and no one's allowed to carry a weapon.
"All clear," one of them finally says with a nod, stepping aside.
I step through the double doors. The marble floors are so shiny that I can see my reflection. A chandelier the size of a car hangs from the ceiling, and oil paintings that I don't recognize line the walls.
A man in a gray suit appears. "This way, sir.
" I follow him through long hallways that feel like they stretch for miles.
Gianna is here somewhere, and as I follow the escort, I'm attentive, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
Staff move past like ghosts, fast and quiet.
I wonder how many secrets this place has heard.
We stop at a pair of double doors at the end of a narrow corridor. They're already open, and I walk in.
The room is wide and deep, the kind of space that turns people into pawns on a board.
A long table slices through the middle, dark wood gleaming under the light.
On one side sit the Italians, sharp suits, cool expressions.
On the other side, the Irish, my side, darker clothes, darker eyes, barely contained tension.
At the end of the table sits Declan. Our eyes lock, and his face hardens instantly like someone flipped a switch inside him. Hatred rolls off him like heat from a flame. He doesn't blink. Neither do I. All the torture he put me through flashes across my mind, but I don't show weakness.
He looks at me like I'm the problem he didn't plan for, and I look at him like I know something he doesn't.
Because I do.
Before the air can split apart, Vito's voice slices through the tension like a blade.
"Welcome, Finn," he says smoothly.
I drag my eyes away from Declan and focus on Vito, nodding once. His expression is unreadable as usual, but there's something different about his eyes; the strong look of disgust he always has for me isn't there.
"Please, have a seat."
There's a nameplate in front of an empty chair halfway down the Irish side.
Finn Costello. My throat is dry. I sit, every movement calculated to hide the pain that still lingers in my ribs.
The table is perfectly set. Microphones are fixed to the surface.
Bottles of water and crystal glasses sit beside each place setting.
I reach for mine, the glass cool and steady in my hand.
I take a slow sip, more to ground myself than anything.
Declan's still staring at me. I can feel it, like a weight on the side of my face.
The room is quiet now, too quiet. The Italians sit tall, and the Irish are coiled with tension, ready to snap.
At the end of each side, like bookends of a bloody history, sit Vito and Declan, and somewhere in between them, the war that's about to change everything.
Connor Costello, one of the Irish men, speaks.
"We all have important things to do with our time," he glances at his watch. "What is the reason for this meeting?"
Meetings like this are rarely held, but when they are, they have a huge impact and significance in our world. Vito leans closer to the mic, setting his elbow on the desk. "A meeting like this hasn't been held in years," Vito says, his voice commanding the attention of everyone.
"So, first off, I would love to welcome everyone. Thank you for honoring this invite."
Declan's voice comes in. "An invite sent from one Don to another has to be honored."
A subtle way to say he was forced to attend this meeting. Vito's eyes shoot to him before settling on the rest of us. He stands slowly, my eyes following his movement as he moves away from his seat.
"It's no secret our families have been at each other's throats for years now," he begins, raising one hand to his chin. "But for how long will this continue... Clear boundaries need to be set since we operate on the same turf."
A few discomforted grunts fill the air, but Vito doesn't acknowledge them.
"You mean the recent incident, like overrunning our shipment?" Declan's voice booms in the air.
The room immediately grows uncomfortable, and the air fills with murmurs and complaints from these powerful men. I look at Declan, and that sick smirk tugs at his lips. Vito is calm, too calm. He assesses the situation like he's mapping out a plan in his head.
Words and accusations fly through the air. "If I decide to list the boundaries Declan has crossed, no one will be sitting here anymore. We might as well point a gun at each other's heads and pull the trigger."
"You're still not getting to the point, Rosso," Declan says, frustration lining his face. "Why are we here?"
"Because I want the Irish to know that you're not fit to be their leader," Vito hits the nail on the head, and Declan's eyes narrow with hate. His gaze flicks to me, but I look away from him.
"What are you talking about, Vito?" a man from the Italian side speaks.
"There are lines we just don't cross, Declan, and you did..." Vito says, slowly returning to his seat. "I can sit here and spend all day listing why you're not a fit leader. I think I'll let someone else do the talking."
On cue, Liam walks into the room, wearing a perfectly tailored suit, his hair styled for the occasion. Declan shoots up from his chair. I've never seen him this shocked in my life. He swallows, his chest rising and falling, and I've never felt more satisfied.
A few gasps fill the air, mainly on the Irish side.
"Liam, is that you?" Connor asks, almost lifting off his seat. Liam has been gone for so long that everyone has written him off as dead. To see him appear like this is a shock to everyone.
"In the flesh, Connor," Liam answers. His eyes flick to me, then land on Declan.
"What... How..." Declan trails off. "Where have you been?"
"Here and there, but I was always close, watching everything that's been happening," Liam replies, taking a slow stroll down the long table.
Eyes follow him as he moves. "Declan is not fit to lead this family," Liam says, and Declan's face twitches, rage oozing off him in waves.
"You walk in here after all these years, and what... You say I'm not fit to run this family?" Declan snaps. "You were gone," he says, meeting the eyes of the Irish family.
"And I was here. I stood by this family and continued to build us."
"You can't say you're building when your methods are against those of the family," Liam responds with a raised voice. "When you wanted to spill the blood of your own to start a war."
Declan is shocked, his eyes flick to mine, and it begins to click for him. "I did no such thing," Declan says, but I can hear the uncertainty in his voice. Liam nods, his lips curling into a smirk. "Well... let's see if I lied or not," he says, bringing out the recorder from his pocket.
He presses play and sets it on the desk.
"You see, my plan was to kill the Rosso girl," Declan's voice plays, low but deadly. "That would have gotten me what I wanted. The Italians would have retaliated. The war would've started."
A short pause settles before the recording continues. "But if I had and the Italians decided not to engage, then it would have been a total waste. I have an even better plan..." his voice darkens. "I'll kill you, Finn, and make it seem like the Italians did it."
Shocked gasps escape the lips of everyone in the room.
"The Irish would have no option but to go to war to avenge you," he adds, almost thoughtfully, like it's poetry.
"You can't kill me, Declan." My voice comes through, and members of the Irish look my way.
"Oh, trust me. I can and I will. You're no longer useful to me."
As the recording plays, it feels like I'm reliving that moment, and I close my eyes, trying to push away the memory.
"It's against our rule. You know it."
"I don't care about the fucking rules. I'll get what I want if it means sacrificing your life."
The recording stops. "No, no, no!" Declan yells. "You both planned this," Declan loses it, looking between Liam and me. "Is this true, Finn?" Connor asks, his eyes growing serious.
"Yes," I answer simply. No more words need to be said. A grave sin has been committed.
"Are you really listening to them? I've been the one keeping this family afloat, and they just tell you that I did something, and you believe it?" Declan lashes out.
"Do you think we're fools, Declan?" Another Irish member speaks.
"This family remains afloat because of the effort of everyone." Connor steps in. "You'll step down from the head of this family, Declan. There's no sin greater than that of wanting to kill your own... and worse to start a war."
"I'm not stepping down. Finn betrayed me first. He betrayed us. All of this is a ruse to take me down!" Declan crashes out further, and we all watch. It breaks my heart and also makes me glad to see him this way.
Liam nods to the men waiting at the door. "Take him away," he says, and the men come to Declan's side. They grab his arms, and he struggles in their grip.
"Get your hands off me," he protests, but power has changed hands. He's no longer their leader.
"We'll discuss his punishment later. For now, we have a lot to discuss," Liam says, and like that, Declan is dragged out of the room. Someone who once led the table is dragged out as a prisoner because of his desire for power, because of his greed.