22. Rafe
RAFE
The door of the townhouse shatters under my boot.
Inside is a nice foyer. A chandelier hangs from a golden chain. Photos of a happy, smiling family sit beneath a large ornate mirror. Steps lead up. A hall goes back. The floor is polished hardwood.
There’s no noise.
“Find him.” I lift one of the pictures. It shows Ignazio, his wife, their three kids. I smash it under my boot and take the stairs.
Each room is empty. I rip it to pieces. His boys are grown now, out of the house, but they’ll be found. His wife too. I don’t know what I’ll do with the extended family, but we’ll see.
First though, the accountant.
His office is neat. Ignazio always was orderly. The ledgers and files are clearly marked and organized. His books are arranged and were dusted recently.
I rip them off the shelves.
When I was eleven, my father brought me to this room.
I remember it being much bigger. Back then, Ignazio was like an uncle, always smiling.
He offered me candy and I sat on the couch toward the back wall while my father puffed on a cigar.
The room stank of tobacco and whisky. I loved that smell.
I still do. It reminds me of my parents.
Ignazio’s laugh was enormous. I’ll never forget it.
For some reason, that afternoon sticks in my head, probably because my father kept making Ignazio crack up.
They would discuss business and I’d zone out, not interested, but soon after Ignazio would be howling again and I’d be grinning too, unable to help it.
I remember going through the stacks of books at one point, looking for something good to read.
Nothing for kids, unfortunately, Ignazio said to me at the time. But maybe try John’s room if you need something to read.
There were afternoon cookouts, backyard barbecues, block parties and sports when we were young. The community pool, roof decks, running down the subway steps. I always liked Ignazio’s kids. We called them our cousins, back in the day. John, Thomas, and Paul. Three fucking saints.
Now I have to kill them.
I tear the office apart. I feel sick straight to my soul. The thought that my father sat in this room and enjoyed himself, made Ignazio laugh, gave a piece of himself to this place—to that traitor fucking bitch—it threatens to break me.
My father, dead now, for much too long.
I’m breathing hard when I’m done bashing the office. The desk holds nothing interesting except for a worn picture at the bottom of the last drawer. It shows Ignazio with my father, the two of them looking no older than I am now.
I rip it to shreds.
“Looks like you had some fun in here.” Kellan enters, looking around with a smirk. “Want to piss on his bed?”
“I want him found. That’s what I want.”
His smile disappears. “Place is empty. We’re ransacking it now.”
“Look for hiding places. Anywhere he might stash himself or something important.”
“Understood.” Kellan doesn’t move. He stares at the office. He’s eight years my junior, but I’m sure he remembers this place too. “I talked to Paul a few weeks back. Can you believe it?”
“You two always got along.”
“He’s doing good. Married now. Not in the life, you know? We always thought the cousins would end up like us.”
“You know what’s going to happen to him.”
Kellan looks down at his hands. At the tattoos on his fingers. “There’s no mercy for a traitor.”
“Or for the son of one.”
“Paul’s got kids. Two of them.”
“We’ll make sure they’re taken care of. The wife as well. They won’t be hurt, you know that.”
Kellan nods, face set. He’s a man of violence.
Always has been. I tried to tame my second-youngest brother but he never wanted a desk.
Silas took to talking and politics. Cassian lost himself in blood and hiding.
But Kellan likes being on the street, likes being seen, likes smashing and breaking until there’s nothing left to break.
That’s probably why he and Devlin get along so well. My littlest brother is an agent of pure chaos. Probably because he was raised in this shit.
“I wish I knew why.” Kellan drifts to Ignazio’s files. I spared them from the worst of my rage. “What was he fucking thinking? Going after you like that?”
“He probably wanted them to kill me. And barring that, they were under instructions to grab my daughter, to use her against me.”
“She’s a fucking child.” Kellan’s jaw tightens. “That sick bastard. But I still don’t get why.”
“Retirement.”
He stops fiddling with a drawer. “What?”
“Ignazio and the rest of the old guard were all going to be retired.”
“You don’t fucking retire from the family. That’s just… that doesn’t happen.”
“It was going to happen.” I stalk to the window, staring out at the trees across the street. “The world’s changing and Ignazio can’t keep up. He’s been making small mistakes for years. My plan was to force out him and the other leftovers from Dad’s time.”
“Jesus Christ.” Kellan slams a fist down onto the cabinet with a boom. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t need to know.”
“I could have been ready for it at least. You’re talking about tossing a bunch of battle-hardened gangsters onto their fucking asses. You didn’t think that would be an issue?”
“I’m talking about retiring a bunch of old men. They don’t even want this anymore, Kellan.”
“Guess someone should’ve mentioned that to Ignazio, because it sure as fuck seems like he still cares.”
I scrub a hand through my hair in frustration. I knew they’d be upset, but no part of me imagined Ignazio would fight this hard to stay inside the family. It’s one thing for him to make a scene, but he’s going all the way, like he thinks he can overthrow me.
God, that’s his plan, isn’t it?
“You need to prepare our people for full-on civil war.” I turn to my brother, letting him see my face so he knows I’m not kidding. “I have no idea how many men they’ll have on their side, but it could be substantial.”
“Come on, we all know you’re in charge. You’ve been the best thing that ever happened to the Corvino family.”
“And yet Ignazio already turned some against me. There will be more, Kellan. We have to be ready.”
He curses and wrenches open a locked drawer. It’s amazing how strong he can be sometimes. “We’d better take all this shit. Who knows what secrets that old bastard has been hiding.”
“I’ll have Theodora go through it all.”
Kellan’s grin returns, just like that. “She’s a bit expensive, don’t you think? Maybe we can get someone cheaper.”
“You never cut corners when it comes to a lawyer.”
“Spoken like a true Don.”
I leave him in the office. The rest of Ignazio’s house is a wreck. Soldiers smash holes in the walls, rip cabinets down, break down doors. It’s like they’re doing a full demolition for a total renovation.
Except the renovation will be through fire.
I help finish the destruction. It’s cathartic, wrecking this place I once knew so well. Another piece of my childhood ruined. When it’s done and all the important documents are safely stored in a van, I pour gasoline on a pile of wooden furniture and drop a match.
The flames are massive. I join Kellan on the sidewalk to gaze as the house catches. More burning. Some days it feels like this is all I know.
“We’ll break him,” Kellan promises. “I like that girl, you know. Hattie’s sweet.”
“She’s a good kid. Thanks to her mother.”
“You like that wife of yours too, don’t you?” Kellan nudges me in the arm. “You fucking hid her from us.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Yes! I definitely can!”
“Look at what happened the second she was found. I should have made her my wife sooner.”
“You did what you could for the girl. Hell, she got five good years without your sorry ass dragging her to hell.”
That’s more true than he knows. I squeeze my brother’s shoulder. “We’ll finish this. In the meantime, tell the others what the deal is. Any Capo that was part of Dad’s original crew has to be watched closely.”
“Understood. I’ll handle it.”
I walk away. Ignazio’s home burns behind me. More heat eating away at something I once loved. I lightly touch my knuckles and the word inked there. Ashes.
Ashes in my blood and ashes in my heart.