Chapter 24 Santino
I watch the taillights of Dominic's car disappear around the corner, the red lights fading into the darkness like the last remnants of everything I thought I had.
Liana's gone.
The alliance is over.
Everything I thought I had secured gone in a matter of minutes.
"Boss." Bruno's voice sounds distant, like he's speaking from the end of a long tunnel. "We should get out of here. The Benedettis might regroup and come back."
I turn away from where the car disappeared, forcing myself to face my crew. They're all watching me with varying expressions of concern and uncertainty, waiting for orders.
I have nothing to give them right now.
"Go home," I say, my voice rough. "All of you. We'll regroup tomorrow and figure out our next moves."
"Santino—" Bruno starts, concern written across his face.
"Go. Home." The finality in my tone leaves no room for argument.
They exchange glances among themselves, silent conversations happening in looks and small gestures. But they know better than to argue when I use that tone. One by one, they leave, heading to their cars and disappearing into the night.
Until it's just me, standing alone in an empty warehouse parking lot at midnight. I pull out my phone and stare at it like it might offer answers.
No new texts. No calls. Nothing.
Just that photo the Benedettis sent earlier, still saved in my messages. Liana tied to that chair, terror in her eyes. The fear that was there because of me. Because I failed her.
I get in my car and start driving, my hands operating on autopilot. Not home. Not to the social club where my crew will gather to discuss what happened.
To my father, Vincent Marcello's house instead.
He's still awake when I arrive, sitting in his study with a glass of scotch in hand. Like he's been waiting for me, like he knew I would come.
"Santino." He doesn't look surprised to see me at this hour. "I heard what happened at the port."
"It's over." I drop into the leather chair across from his desk, suddenly exhausted. "Dominic called it off. The whole arrangement. The alliance. Everything."
"I’m not surprised." He pours me a drink without asking, slides it across the polished wood surface. "Vincent Marcello's son, engaged for less than a month, and it ends like this."
"I didn't—" I stop, the words tangling in my throat. "I thought she was lying. Playing games with me. How was I supposed to know this time was real?"
"You weren't supposed to know." Papa's voice is quiet, contemplative. "Because you didn't know her at all."
"That's not fair—"
"Isn't it?" He leans back in his chair, studying me with those sharp eyes that see everything. "Tell me about Liana Costa. What does she want from life? What are her dreams? What makes her angry? What scares her?"
I have no idea. No idea at all.
"You can't answer," he observes. "Can you?"
"We were only together for—"
"You had enough time to ask basic questions." He cuts me off. "Did you ever actually ask her what she wanted? What mattered to her?"
"She wanted—" I stop, searching my memory. "I don't know."
"Exactly." He takes a measured drink. "Did you care to know?"
The question stings more than it should. "Of course I cared about her."
"Did you though?" He sets down his glass. "Or did you just assume she wanted what every mafia bride wants? A powerful husband. A big wedding. Children. The life her mother has."
I don't answer, because the silence is answer enough.
Because he's right. About everything.
I assumed. About who she was, what she wanted, what she needed from me.
"What if Liana doesn’t want the engagement to be over?" The words come out before I can stop them.
His eyebrow raises slightly. "Now you're asking the right question. Unfortunately for you, it's too late."
"I can fix this—"
"Can you?" He stands and walks to the window, looking out at the darkness. "Santino, I failed you."
"What?" The statement catches me off guard.
"I failed you. As a father. As a Don." He turns to face me, and there's regret in his expression. "I never taught you the most important lesson."
I wait, not sure where this is going.
"The role of a Don," he says slowly, "is not about power. It's not about territory or money or respect. Those things matter, yes. But they're not the priority. They're not what makes you worthy of the title."
"Then what is?"
"Family." His voice is firm, unshakeable.
"A Don's first priority—his only priority that truly matters in the end—is to protect his family.
Always. Above everything else." He walks back to his desk.
"You protect your wife first. Before anyone.
Before everything. Then your children. Your daughters and sons.
Your grandchildren if you're lucky enough to live that long.
" He looks at me directly. "That's the job.
That's what makes a man worthy of being called a Don.
Not the title. Not the power. The protection. "
The words sink in slowly, heavy and undeniable.
"And I failed," I say quietly, the admission painful.
"You failed the most important test a man in this life can face." His voice isn't angry, just profoundly sad. "You failed to protect Liana when she needed you most."
"I know that now."
"Do you?" He sits back down, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. "Because Dominic Costa spent twenty-eight years teaching his daughter this business. Making sure she could protect herself if something happened to him. Making sure she could survive in this life no matter what."
I stare at him, processing this information.
"You didn't know that about her," he observes. "Did you?"
"She never said anything about—"
"Did you ask?" His voice sharpens with disappointment. "Did you ever ask about her life? About what she does all day? About why she's so capable, so trained, so ready for anything?"
"She acted helpless—"
"And you believed it. Because that's what you wanted to believe.
" He shakes his head slowly. "Liana Costa has been sitting in business meetings since she was ten years old.
Her father trained her to run the family operations.
To negotiate. To strategize. She knows this life better than most of the men in your crew. "
Ten years old. She's been learning this business since she was ten years old.
"Why didn't she tell me any of this?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
"Why would she? You were planning to take over her family's operations. To run everything she'd been trained her entire life to lead. Did you ever once ask if that's what she wanted? If she had plans of her own?"
I think back through all our conversations, all the dinners, all the time we spent together. I asked about her day. She said "things." I never pushed. Never asked more questions. Never cared enough to know the details.
Because I assumed she was like every other mafia princess I'd ever met—sheltered, protected, uninterested in the actual business.
"Damn," I breathe, running my hands through my hair. "I never knew her at all."
"No, you didn't."
Silence fills the study, heavy and uncomfortable.
"What do I do now?" I ask finally, looking up at him.
He looks at me for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. Then he sighs deeply. "Honestly? Nothing."
"What?" I sit forward. "There has to be something—"
"Dominic Costa won't forgive this. Not easily. Probably not ever." He's being brutally honest now, not softening the blow. "His daughter was kidnapped on your watch. You failed to protect her when she called for help. That's not something you come back from in this world."
"There has to be something I can do—"
"Even if there was," he interrupts firmly, "Liana herself may not want anything to do with you anymore. You hurt her deeply. She trusted you with her life and you weren't there when it mattered."
The words are knives, each one finding its mark.
"That's it?" My voice rises with desperation. "I just give up? Accept defeat?"
"You move on. You find another alliance. You rebuild the business relationships we need. You—"
"I don't want another alliance." The words come out fierce and final. "I want her."
He stops mid-sentence and stares at me. "You want her," he repeats slowly, like he's testing the words. "Why?"
The directness of it throws me for a moment.
"Because—" I stop, forcing myself to really think about the answer.
"Because she's brilliant. And fierce. And she saved herself tonight when no one else could have.
Because she fooled me and I didn't see it coming.
Because she shot a man in the kneecap without blinking and then negotiated her way out of a hostage situation like she'd done it a thousand times. "
I stand, needing to move, to pace.
"Because I thought I knew what I wanted from this arrangement. A dutiful wife. Someone to run my household efficiently. Someone to give me children and stay out of my business." I laugh, and it sounds bitter even to my own ears. "But that's not what I want at all anymore."
"Then what do you want?"
"I want Liana." I turn to face my father directly. "The real Liana. The one who's been trained since she was ten years old. The one who knows this business inside and out. The one who's strong enough to escape kidnappers and smart enough to play me for weeks without me catching on."
"She doesn't trust you anymore," he says quietly, stating the obvious. "Her father won't allow you anywhere near her. The alliance is over. There's no arrangement. No marriage contract. No political reason for her to give you another chance."
"I know." I meet his eyes steadily. "I need to give her a reason. A real one that has nothing to do with business or alliances."
He studies me for a long moment, and then slowly, he smiles. "Now you're thinking like a Marcello."
"What do I do then?"
"You want her back?" He leans forward intently. "You need to prove you're worth having back. You need to show her—and her father—that you understand what you did wrong. That you know who she really is now. And that you're willing to protect her. Always. No matter what the cost."
"How do I do that?"
"That's for you to figure out." He stands and walks around the desk, putting a hand on my shoulder. "But I'll tell you this. If you're going to fight for her, you need to fight smart. This is the mafia, Santino. Everything is a negotiation. Everything has leverage points."
"What leverage do I have? Dominic hates me right now."
"Then find leverage he can't refuse." His eyes gleam with the kind of cunning that's kept our family powerful for generations. "And when you do, you don't ask for her back. You don't beg. You negotiate. Like the Don you're supposed to be."
He heads toward the door, then pauses with his hand on the frame.
"And Santino? When you get her back—if you get her back—you make damn sure you never fail her again. Because she won't give you a third chance. Women like Liana don't forgive the same mistake twice." He leaves, closing the door softly behind him.
I'm alone in the study now, the silence pressing in from all sides. I stare at my phone, at that photo of Liana tied to the chair, her eyes filled with fear. Then I open a new screen and start making notes, my mind working through possibilities.
What do I know about Liana Costa? What does she want? What does her father want? What leverage do I have?
The Benedettis are still out there. Still angry. Still dangerous after tonight's failure.
Dominic called off the alliance, which means he called off the protection that came with it. The Costas are vulnerable now, exposed in ways they weren't before. And so are the Marcellos without the Costa connections.
But maybe... maybe that's not a weakness.
Maybe that's exactly the leverage I need. I start making calls, one after another.
First to Bruno. "I need everything we have on the Benedetti family. Operations. Weaknesses. Who they owe money to. Who wants them gone. Every piece of intelligence we can gather."
Then to Tommy. "I need to know what the Costas are planning for security. How they're protecting their operations now that the alliance is off."
Then to Sal. "I need eyes on Liana. Not close—I don't want to scare her or make things worse. But I need to know she's safe at all times."
By morning, I have a plan.
It's risky. It's insane. It might not work at all. But it's the only chance I have to make this right.
I'm going to take down the Benedettis. Completely. Permanently. Eliminate them as a threat.
I'm going to eliminate the danger to Liana and her family.
And then I'm going to go to Dominic Costa with proof that I can protect his daughter. That I will protect his daughter.
Always. No matter what it costs me.
And maybe—maybe—he'll give me another chance.
If not? If he still refuses?
At least Liana will be safe from the Benedettis.
And that's all that matters now.
I grab my jacket and head for the door, purpose driving my steps.
Time to go to war.