16. Faustino
Faustino
“What have I just let happen…” Faustino muttered, shaking his head.
As Faustino stood in the fading light of the office building’s entrance, the air heavy and ready for rain as Owen’s car pulled away with Reece slumped in the back seat, he knew that something had changed between him and Reece. His darling boy’s words echoed in Faustino’s mind, painful and raw.
I fucked up.
I moved things too quickly.
I brought him into my world when he has no place in it…
Faustino felt the hurt in his chest, raw and aching, a sadness he hadn’t let himself feel in years.
Justin. It always came back to Justin. But this time it was different.
As much as Reece and Justin had things in common, Faustino’s heart was only for Reece now.
And his boy’s tear-streaked face, the fury in his eyes, the way he’d shoved him away… it all burned.
But beneath the pain, a colder thought crept in. Maybe this was for the best. If Reece walked away, he’d be out of harm’s way, safe from the violence that shadowed his every step and would continue to do so for the rest of his life as a Fendi man.
This way, Reece would be safe from ending up like Justin. The idea twisted Faustino’s gut, equal parts relief and loss, and he stood there, rooted, as the taillights of Owen’s SUV vanished into the dusk.
The sky rumbled, a low growl, and heavy raindrops began to splatter the pavement, cold and relentless.
“Perfect,” Faustino muttered, quickly getting soaked from the downpour.
Faustino’s shoulders hunched against the sudden rain, his boots splashing through puddles as he made for his car.
The rain came harder, like a curtain of gray that blurred the streetlights as he ran, drumming a frantic rhythm on the rooftops.
Faustino arrived at his car, drenched, and slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door against the storm.
As he sat there, soaked and shivering, the water dripped from his hair onto the leather.
The rain crashed against the windshield, a deafening roar that drowned out the city, each drop a hammer blow on the car’s roof.
Truly, it felt like the world was closing in, pressing him down, and for a moment, he let it… just him, the rain, and the hollow ache of Reece’s rejection.
“Snap out of it,” Faustino pleaded with himself, banging his fist on the car’s steering wheel. “You’re a Fendi. You’re a killer. You’re a… fuck .”
Faustino’s phone buzzed in his pocket, a sharp jolt that snapped him out of his spiraling emotions. Faustino took the phone out of his pocket and the screen glowed through the wet streaks on his fingers…
MATTEO: Steel says the rebel Colazzis are moving fast. Plan to take us out soon. Tonight or tomorrow, but they’re coming and there’s nothing to do but be ready. I’ve got men ready to fight. Good men too. But this is going to take everything we’ve got. All three of us. Meet us at my penthouse. Now.
Faustino’s jaw clenched, the words igniting a fire that burned away the hurt. The splinter group wasn’t just plotting, they were striking – and soon .
This was war, official and unforgiving, and there was no time to wallow. Faustino might have been all mixed up about his situation with Reece, but that had to be put on the backburner for the moment at least.
Faustino tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, the engine roaring to life as he peeled out, tires screeching through the rain-slick streets. The wipers slashed at the deluge, barely keeping up as Faustino sped toward Matteo’s apartment, the city a blur of wet lights and shadows.
It was time to fight and put this matter to bed once and for all…
Matteo’s East Side apartment was a fortress in the heart of the city, a penthouse sitting at the top of a sleek high-rise that loomed over the rain-drenched city streets.
Faustino stepped out of the elevator, his boots leaving wet prints on the polished marble floor of the hallway, the faint hum of the building’s systems buzzing in his ears.
The door to the apartment swung open before he could knock, Matteo filling the frame, his dark suit rumpled, a glass of whisky already in his hand and a concerned look on his face.
The living room beyond was a sprawl of modern luxury.
Floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the storm-lashed skyline, the glass streaked with rain.
Dark leather furniture sat in precise angles, a glass coffee table gleamed under recessed lighting, and a massive TV flickered silently with a muted news feed.
This wasn’t Matteo and Kyan’s cozy home, this was Matteo’s place of sanctuary when serious business needed doing.
Michael sprawled on a couch, his tie loosened, a bottle of ice cold beer in his hand. The tension in the room was palpable, thick as the storm clouds pressing against the windows.
Faustino shrugged off his wet jacket, tossed it over a chair, and dropped into an armchair, the leather creaking under his weight.
“So…” Faustino said. “This is it. Isn’t it?”
The rain hammered the glass, a relentless tattoo that underscored the gravity of their meeting. Matteo set his glass down with a clink, pacing to the window, his silhouette stark against the city’s glow.
“It could be,” Matteo said, his voice low, steady, but carrying the weight of a man staring down his own end.
“Our last stand together. Or the win that locks this family down for a generation. Steel’s sure as sure can be…
they’ve got numbers, guns, and a plan to hit us hard.
We don’t know exactly when, but it’s soon.
Tonight, maybe dawn. We have to be ready. ”
Michael’s eye narrowed.
“Stakes don’t get higher than this,” Michael said, sipping on his beer. “We’ve took down the old regime. We know how much blood is spilled when a family goes to war with itself. One of us might not walk out of this. Hell, maybe none of us will.”
Faustino leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his hands clasping tight to keep them still.
“We’ve got no choice,” Faustino said, his voice rough, edged with the fury that had been simmering since the bar.
“They want war, they get it. They think this is a sneak attack. But we’ve got the intel.
We know they’re coming. That gives us the advantage.
And if all else fails… we’ve got three crazy sonsofbitches leading from the front. ”
Matteo turned from the window, his gaze locking with Faustino’s.
“You’re right,” Matteo said. “Hell, you’ve been right all along. We’ve let it fester too long, hoping they’d fall in line. They won’t. This is kill or be killed.”
Matteo paused, swirling the whisky in his glass. Faustino could tell that his cousin had more to say, but was thinking of how best to say it.
“But first, I need to see Kyan,” Matteo said. “My Little. My world. He deserves to know what’s coming, even if I keep it as light as I possibly can. I need one last moment with him, just in case.”
“Same,” Michael said. “Benjamin needs me tonight. If this is the end, I’m not leaving without telling him what he means to me. We’ve got a couple hours before we move. It’s enough time.”
Faustino could feel the tension rising inside him. Both Matteo and Faustino were in their Forever relationships. Everything for them was settled, there was no questions about whether or not they should see they’re boys.
Matteo’s eyes shifted to Faustino, softer now, searching.
“You should do the same, Faustino.,’ Matteo said. “Reece is your boy, argument or not. Go to him. Show him why he’s… you know.”
Faustino’s chest tightened and his heart thumped. As he stared at the floor, the rain’s roar filled the silence as his mind turned over all the possibilities.
“He doesn’t want to see me,” Faustino said finally, his voice low and strained. “He told me he’s done. You know… wants out. Reece never wants me near him again. He blames me for the shit that’s hit him, and he’s not wrong. That shot today? Could’ve been his last breath because of me.”
Michael frowned, sitting up.
“You think he meant it?” Michael asked. “People say shit when they’re scared, brother. Doesn’t always mean it’s true.”
“Maybe,” Faustino muttered, running a hand through his still damp hair. “But he was crystal clear, you know? I’d be an asshole to ignore that and barge in when he’s made up his mind.”
Faustino paused, the memory of Justin’s tragic death flashing across his mind once more, for what was probably the ten thousandth time.
“And maybe he’s better off without me. Safer,” Faustino said, his voice low and serious. “The last boy I loved ended up dead because of this so-called life we lead. I can’t let that happen again.”
Faustino sighed and felt his shoulders momentarily relax before stiffening up with tension once more.
Matteo crossed the room, stopping in front of Faustino, his voice firm but full of compassion too.
“You’re not wrong. This life is dangerous,” Matteo said. “But if this is it, Faustino… if we don’t make it through… you’ll regret not seeing him one last time. Go. Tell him how you feel, even if it’s one last goodbye. You might not get that chance back.”
Faustino couldn’t bring himself to speak. He pictured Reece curled up with Squirt, his soft snores, the way he’d looked at him on that rooftop, trusting and bright. Faustino knew that he loved the boy, more than he’d let himself admit, and the thought of dying without him knowing clawed at him.
But Reece had drawn a line, and crossing it felt like betrayal, disrespecting the one thing he’d asked of him.
And yet. This could be the end. No second chances, no do-overs.
If Faustino went to the boy now, he could say what he needed, tell Reece he was his world, that he’d let him go if it kept him safe, and then walk away, maybe for good – but at least knowing that his darling Little knew how much he cared for him.
I know what I need to do.
It won’t be easy.
But I’ve got no choice. This isn’t about me…
Faustino stood, the chair creaking as he grabbed his jacket, the leather cold and wet against his skin.
“I’ll think about it,” Faustino said, his voice gruff. “You two go to your boys. I’ll meet you back here when it’s time to move. We end this together . Win or lose.”
Michael patted Faustino on the shoulder, a rare softness in his eyes.
“Don’t overthink it, brother,” Michael said. “Just do what feels right.”
Matteo nodded, finishing his whisky with a grimace.
“We’ve got a war to fight.” Matteo said, his voice a low growl. “Make your peace first.”
Faustino didn’t reply. Instead, he simply stepped into the hall as the elevator dinged open.
The rain still pounded the windows, a relentless drumbeat that matched the storm in his head. Faustino rode down alone, the hum of the lift’s corny music a quiet contrast to his racing thoughts.
Reece’s face haunted him… angry, tearful… but beneath it, the boy he’d held, the Little he’d sworn to protect.
Faustino wanted to respect his sweet boy’s wishes, let him walk free of his chaos, but the pull to see him one last time pulled at him even harder with each passing moment.
As he stepped into the lobby, Faustino felt the world’s weight on his shoulders.
Time was slipping away, and he didn’t know which path to take…