2. Dante
Dante
Rain streaks the glass, dripping down the snout of a stone gargoyle perched below the window and transforming the downtown Manhattan skyline into a sea of blurred lights. On the soaked sidewalks, people scurry like bugs under a magnifying glass as they tend to their mundane lives.
After sipping my whiskey, I consult my phone, too, in case I somehow missed their call.
Nothing.
My fingers flex around the edge of the desk. I was so close to her today that I could almost feel her soft skin and smell her roses and cherries fragrance. I spent years trying to scrub her scent from my memory, but now, it’s haunting me again.
Fuck her.
With a snarl, I hurl my tumbler at the wall. The glass shatters, spraying the floor with glittering fragments. Venomous hatred strangles my throat until I’m convinced I’ll choke.
I could’ve killed her on the spot, except she doesn’t deserve a quick death.
Luca Navarro pushes his reading glasses onto his head and raises a quizzical brow, a mixture of amusement and concern glinting in his perceptive lead gray eyes. “Someone’s in a cheerful mood.”
Tall and lithe, my second-in-command reclines in the chair across from me.
Growing up in upstate New York, Luca’s early love of hunting and tracking provided him with the perfect skills to serve as my shadow. Better yet, he understands my need for control.
“I’m waiting for the Council to reply to my meeting request.”
He ignores my scowl and stretches his powerful legs out in front of him. “The meeting you requested,” he glances at his phone, “less than an hour ago? Shocking how slow they are to respond these days.”
My scowl deepens. Luca’s one of the few people who can get away with calling me out like that. He can be a giant pain in the ass, but I trust him with my life.
That doesn’t stop me from wanting to wring his neck sometimes.
“Have you checked on Mr. Boyd?”
My sharp tone prompts Luca to cock his head. “Considering you just gave the order on the drive over, no. I haven’t had the chance.”
Luca also earned my permanent loyalty by helping my brother Marco keep the family running smoothly when I couldn’t.
He and I may not share blood, but he’s the closest thing I have to a friend, and I count on him more than anyone.
Where most of my men depend on brute force to eliminate threats, Luca plots, relying on his brilliant mind and computer savvy.
He possesses plenty of skill with weapons but prefers precision over power.
My second would much rather drive a knife into someone’s carotid artery than shower them in bullets.
He shifts positions in the chair, one of his silent tells. With a sigh, I spin around to face him. “What else?”
“The latest lead we found. I’ve got a name, but I need your approval to proceed. The cops are sniffing around, so if I pick him up now, things could get messy.”
“Leave him.” A couple of hours ago, I would have jumped on this lead that Luca and I tracked for weeks.
That all changed the moment I laid eyes on Sara. I’ve had my people monitoring her for the past month, but today was the first time I followed her myself.
As a result, I can’t focus on anything else. “We’ll take care of him once the heat dies down.”
Luca rears back in surprise. “You realize we may miss our window if we wait too long?”
“I have faith in you. You found him once, and you can do so again.”
“Lucky me.” He hunches forward in his chair. “And the Ghost—”
“Is mine. I’ll punish him when, and how, I see fit.” My tone signals the end of the conversation.
“Understood.” Luca pokes his tongue into his cheek but doesn’t argue further.
Pinching the bridge of my nose to ward off the encroaching headache, I consult my watch again. “Fuck. Where are they?”
“Are you sure this is wise? I thought you planned to mess with her more first.”
“Plans change.”
Visceral skepticism radiates from my friend. Because, while plans may change for most people, I’m usually not a creature of impulse. I’m cold. Calculating. He knows it’s out of character for me to alter things last minute.
My ringing phone interrupts our standoff. The words “restricted number” flash across the screen.
Finally.
“Hello?”
A robotic voice replies, “Meet at Giovani’s restaurant in one hour.”
Click.
Dragging a shaky breath in through my nose, I relay the news to Luca.
“I hope you know what you’re doing. What happens if they say no?”
“They won’t.”
I pray I’m not lying. Because at this point, I’m not sure I could turn back, regardless of what the Council says.
And no one disobeys the Council without paying the price.
When I enter the restaurant, a burly man in a tasteful black suit that doesn’t hide his gun motions for me to follow him.
The interior is dimly lit by flickering candles and the occasional chandelier, and the clinking forks and hushed voices of diners trail us as the guard leads me past the tables and down a hallway.
A right turn brings us to an ornate wooden door.
The guard gestures at the holster beneath my bespoke suit jacket. “Leave any weapons with me.”
Already accustomed to the protocol, I hand over my gun without fuss. The Council takes their security very seriously.
The man pockets my weapon. “Raise your arms.”
I do as he commands and let him frisk me. Once he finishes, he rises and knocks on the door twice before pushing it open. Then he sweeps his arm, indicating I can enter.
When I do, the door slams shut behind me, casting me into a murky gloom.
As my eyes adjust, a disembodied, robotic voice speaks.
“You may approach.”
After I blink a few times, my surroundings sharpen enough to reveal a massive mahogany table. Embedded lights emit an eerie red glow that spills into the room like a sea of luminescent blood.
Seven black-clad figures preside over the table. All of them wear grotesque commedia dell’arte masks, each one representing a stage of the Italian Renaissance.
A little too on the nose for the people who secretly rule over the mafia, if you ask me.
The overall effect is straight out of a hellscape. Like a nightmare from a Guillermo del Toro horror flick.
Which is exactly what the Council strives for with this theatrical setup.
My shoulders tighten as I stride forward.
Figures lurk in the shadows along the back wall, white masks covering their faces.
The Council’s soldiers. Like their masters, no one knows their identity outside of the Councilmen.
The soldiers carry out the Council’s will, dirtying their hands so the Councilors don’t have to.
A warning me that if I become difficult, they’ll put me down like a rabid dog.
I drag my tongue across my teeth and reach for the single straight-backed chair opposite the middle of the Council’s table. As soon as my ass hits the hard wooden seat, someone yanks my hair back from behind.
A cold blade presses against the front of my throat.
My body quivers with the urge to subdue the threat, but I stave off the impulse. If I attack one of the Council’s little worker bees during an official meeting, I may as well save him the trouble and slit open my own carotid artery.
When I swallow, a sharp sting penetrates my skin. A shallow cut, just deep enough to bleed.
I lean into the pain. Startled, my assailant curses and pulls the knife back a few inches.
Arlecchino’s red-and-black mask features an exaggerated, almost feral smile. The cheeks bulge, and the eyes squint into sinister crescents. “Tell us, Argento, do you think of us Councilors as lapdogs that serve at your whim? You must, to summon us like this.”
Luca was right. Seems like demanding an immediate audience pissed a few people off.
“Of course not, and you have my deepest apologies for the late timing of my request. I would never presume to give orders to the Council. I’m afraid I let my excitement over the idea of enacting vengeance get the better of me.”
I force myself to remain relaxed. While the Council expects deference from those they rule over, I refuse to show fear. If they hoped their little display of aggression would leave me quaking and pleading for mercy, they can fuck right off.
During all those hellish months I spent in captivity, I never once begged, so I sure as shit don’t plan to beg these masked fuckfaces for mercy now.
Strained silence fills the room.
Between their covered faces, the darkness, and the red glare, the Councilors manage to keep their identities hidden. For one disorienting moment, I wonder if they’re even human. The voice modulators distorting their speech don’t do much to prove they’re flesh and blood.
Arlecchino barks an order, and the man at my back releases me. I brush my fingers over the wetness on my neck. After studying them, I shrug and suck the fluid into my mouth.
I’m rewarded when two Councilors shift uneasily in their chairs.
They think I’m a little unhinged, and they’re probably right. I do enjoy going the extra mile to prove it. Keeps them on their toes.
The Council member playacting as Il Dottore, with a high, wrinkled brow, bulbous nose, and built-in spectacles without lenses, waves a lazy hand. “You may proceed with your request.”
Tension climbs. This is it.
I dip my chin in a show of respect. “If it pleases the Council, I am requesting permission to punish the woman I believe aided my captors in abducting me. Per codicil 11.2, anyone under Council rule has the right to seek retribution against any individual outside of the Council’s scope of influence who wrongs a family member in a way that leads to grievous harm. ”
Soft murmurs reach my ears before Zanni, one of the oldest masks in the organization, clears his throat. His long, sharply hooked nose would be comical if the small, shifty eye sockets didn’t give him major creep energy.
“Have you had any contact with this woman yet?”
The attention of all seven figures burns into me. “No, although I came close today when I followed her for a short time.”
“And before that, you had your men track her.”
Zanni’s statement lands like a mic-drop, lifting the hair on my neck. Confirmation of their spying comes as no surprise, though.
The Council deals in secrets and blackmail. The more intel they gather on us, the easier we are to control.
To that end, the Council has eyes and ears everywhere, and getting caught in a lie is a death wish. And since I plan to stick around long enough to make my tormentors regret they were ever born, I need to proceed with caution.
“Yes. She left the city while I was…away. Now she’s back, and I didn’t want to give her a second chance to disappear.”
Zanni nods. “One moment.”
White noise pours from hidden speakers, muting the Council’s whispered conversation. They finish their discussion less than a minute later, and the noise shuts off again.
“We will approve your request to seek vengeance,” Zanni says. “Just remember, unsanctioned relationships are forbidden.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
“Then you have our blessing.”
Strain leeches from my muscles. The table creaks as Dottore braces his elbows on the wood. “We’ve noticed your brother’s been seeing a woman for the past few weeks. A model, or maybe an influencer?”
I shrug, attempting to hide my irritation over their little games.
If they’re asking about her, then they already know exactly who she is.
Hell, they’ve probably already created a full dossier.
“‘Seeing a woman’ is a pretty euphemism for what my brother does with them. I learned long ago that he goes through his…dating partners too quickly for me to bother with memorizing their life histories.”
That earns me a few masculine chuckles. Eeerie robotic ones, thanks to the voice modulators.
I hope they’re almost done with me. Catering to the whims of anonymous old men with tiny dick syndrome triggers my stabbiest impulses.
I’m not worried about Marco and his latest fuck-of-the-week. The next shiny toy will snag his attention soon enough, and if not, I can just drag him to the strip club.
Dottore drums his fingers on the table. “We take no issue with him using women outside the Families for convenience. We just want him to make smart choices and understand that we must approve any true match.”
Pantalone’s hooked nose and pointed goatee tremble as he snickers, the humorous noise an unsettling contradiction to the permanently angry brow.
I swallow my anger over these pricks baiting me. They want to provoke a reaction that demonstrates my weak will.
Well, good luck with that. They’re welcome to try…and fail.
The powerful crime families under the Council’s thumb may be forced to live and die by the Code, but they won’t lure me into one of their stupid power plays.
They dictate our alliances and protects us from threats. Betraying them invites a death sentence, as does breaking the Code. So, like everyone else, I fall in line. Though I do try not to provide them with any additional fodder.
My father trained me to abide by the Code, just as his father did before him.
Days after my eighteenth birthday, he tasked me with tracking a delivery boy who was leaking information to the NYPD about our shipments out of Port Ivory on Staten Island.
I’ll never forget the kid’s startled expression when I slid my knife into his guts and the life drained from his eyes.
My father rewarded me with a proud slap on the back, and then the Council issued me a blank mask that identifies anyone their protection.
Of course, that protection came with a steep price. They require insurance to ensure our continued cooperation.
The boy I murdered served as my first payment. A grotesque guarantee of my obedience and loyalty.
In addition to the other benefits, crime families under the Council’s wing gain enough power to join the world’s elite. That’s how the Argentos rank as one of the oldest syndicates in New York.
The Code demands secrecy. No unauthorized relationships is another brutally enforced rule. It’s also the reason I hid my affair five years ago.
“My brother won’t be a problem.”
Zanni’s brief silence weighs heavily on my shoulders. “Will you be a problem, Argento?”
Upon reflection, I can’t believe I had once planned to reveal my true identity to Sara and ask her to marry me. They don’t know how close I came to proposing and attempting to leave this life behind, which is likely the only reason Sara and I are both still alive.
I incline my head and keep my expression impassive. “Of course not.” The Council doesn’t have to worry about my loyalty ever again, which means this next part doesn’t happen without their go-ahead. “That’s why I requested this meeting in the first place.”
They all exchange several glances before Pantalone steeples his fingers. “Go on, then. Tell us what you have in mind.”
Vicious satisfaction floods my chest as I open my mouth and begin talking.