Chapter 28
ETTORE
“How’s the shoulder?” I ask, driving away from the safe house, nodding at my trusted men placed around the perimeter.
Mark laughs savagely. “What shoulder?”
“Damn right,” I grunt.
“We should take more time, Ettore. You know that.”
“If we give him time, he’ll scramble for support. Invent more excuses. He needs to die.”
“This is about your girl.”
“Are you fucking surprised?” I snap, slamming my hand on the steering wheel. “It’s one thing to try to marry her, for fuck’s sake, but to send men to—”
“Not her. Your nanny.”
I sigh darkly.
“This is about what Ruggero did to her parents, the sharking operation.”
“This is about it all. Going after my daughter. Her parent. Two innocent people died. And her aunt was so terrified, she didn’t dare to reach out to her. Mara spent her whole life thinking she had no family, feeling unwanted, like she belonged nowhere, because of that scumbag.”
Mark scratches his twice-broken nose. “There’s every chance Don Malaspina and Don Rinaldi will refuse to sanction a murder on him.”
“With what we’ve gathered?” I snarl. “With the attack.”
“Our proof isn’t bulletproof. It relies too much on people keeping their word. Lately, I’m starting to lose doubt in that.”
“Either way, he dies,” I grunt. “He’s not walking out of that meeting alive.”
“Then you’re potentially signing our death warrants.”
I pull the car over at the side of the road, turning to my underboss and my consigliere rolled into one, a man I should be closer with, a man I’ve always kept at a distance because we’re both cold pricks focused on this cold world.
“This is your chance,” I tell him. “You can walk away right now. I don’t want you walking into a possible execution if you’re that terrified of the headsman.”
He looks offended. “I’m not going anywhere. If we die, we die. Your family will be safe. Our men will keep their word. A new house. A new life. New identities. And me? Hell, there’s a reason I stayed single.”
I’m about to start the car again when I hear banging from the trunk.
“See?” Mark grunts. “Too much of the human element in this. Too much uncertainty.”
I pop the trunk, then leave the car. When I pull it open, Bastian is staring up at me, his face bloody and broken. “Please,” he wheezes, and I know there’s something wrong with me. Or maybe something is right. Even after what he did, part of me feels sorry for the wreck. “Please.”
I take out my gun and push the barrel against his head.
“Remember what I told you,” I snap. “Do what you’re told, and there’s a chance you’ll live.”
“What chance?” he whimpers.
Zero.
“A good one,” I lie, giving away another piece of my soul.
I just have to hope there’s enough left for when – for if – I return to my family.
We’re back in the smoky room, but we’ve all got backup this time.
Ottavio is chain smoking as usual, and Cesare is sitting upright, like he wishes he was the businessman I was able to make myself through sheer hard work and force of will.
Ruggero sits in a black suit, a black tie, wearing a black onyx ring.
He thinks he’s in mourning for his nephew.
He doesn’t have any idea his nephew is alive, in my car outside, and that’s the way I want it.
I glance at Mark, who raises an eyebrow, which means, Bloodbath if this goes wrong. He’s right. I’ve got Mark, plus four of my men with me. There are at least thirty of us packed into this tight room, all packing.
I sit at the edge of the table, on the opposite side to Ruggero.
“We’re here to discuss the unfortunate series of events which occurred yesterday,” Cesare says.
“Hmm,” Ottavio mutters. “A Calvi-led attack, or a rogue hyena with his own little crew?”
“I resent the accusation,” Ruggero says, his voice artificially heavy. “My nephew attacked alone, the foolish, foolish boy. If I’d had any idea—”
“Shut up, Ruggero,” I say.
“Easy, Ettore,” Cesare cautions.
“Any Don whose closest relative launches an attack on a rival Family – with that Don having no fucking clue – is a weak, useless nobody who doesn’t deserve to run a Family.
” I look at his men, all of whom are known to me, and all of whom would run his Family better than him.
“Being Don means controlling your men. Being the head of a family means stepping up when the time is right. Being Don means seizing on your chance.”
One of his captains, a grizzled veteran of the life, Corrado Vescari, stares at me for a moment. It’s common knowledge he runs at least half of the Calvi empire. He’s a man I can imagine working with.
“What would you have me do?” Ruggero says. “I loved that boy, and he played on it. He used my love against me. He knew I wouldn’t question him. Now, he’s left me with the aftermath. Please, Ettore, old friend, tell me how my Family can make this up to yours.”
“It’s simple, Ruggero,” I say, leaning forward.
“Yes?”
“Very simple,” I go on. “If you could just reach into your pocket.”
“My pocket?”
“That’s right. Then take out your gun. Then blow your fucking brains out. Can you do that for me?”
He turns away in disgust.
“Ettore, please,” Cesare says. “Ruggero has come here in good faith.”
“He’s lying to you all,” I say. “He had full knowledge of everything his nephew did. He helped to plan it. That attack was too well orchestrated. There’s no way Bastian could plan that all on his own—”
Cesare tries to cut in. I slam my fist on the table.
“He was going to—my daughter,” I snarl. I can’t even say it.
“My little girl. And this bastard…” I point a finger at Ruggero.
I want to say, He was behind my woman’s parents’ deaths.
But that has no place here, which proves how twisted this all is.
It would mean nothing to them. Just two people who got into too much debt. “He knew it. From the start.”
Ruggero shakes his head slowly. “I knew nothing.”
“I have to say,” Ottavio mutters. “I agree with Ettore on one point. Any Don unaware of an attack of this scale hasn’t got his house in order.”
Ruggero glares at me. “No one asked you.”
Ottavio chuckles. “What a big, scary man you are,” he says sarcastically.
“We need to get down to business,” Cesare says. “This is a tense situation. Look around the room, Ettore. We have to settle this civilly.”
“I’m looking at men who ought to know better than to follow a coward,” I say, staring at Corrado. I sigh, waving a hand. “Fine. Go get it.”
“What’s this?” Ruggero asks anxiously as two of my men leave the room.
“There’s still a chance to get your gun out,” I tell him. “To do the right thing.”
“What the hell is this?” Ruggero demands.
Justice for my daughter. Justice for Livia. And justice for Mara’s parents. That’s what it is, you lowlife thug.
My men drag Bastian into the room, barely enough strength to stand on his own. That same pity touches me, proof that I’m probably too soft for this life under all these layers of savagery.
“Tell them, Bastian,” I say coldly.
“And you’ll let me live?”
I can’t make promises in front of these men.
“Just tell them,” I snap.
Bastian looks up at Ruggero. “I’m sorry, uncle.”
“You said he was dead,” Ruggero snaps, glaring at me.
“I thought you’d be pleased. You seem very committed to mourning.”
“It was… us,” Bastian wheezes. “Both of us. We planned it all from the start. Uncle Ruggero said I had to do it through my men, because we have a reputation of being wild.”
“Being wild,” Ottavio mutters, with another cynical laugh. “What a highfalutin way to describe being a serial assaulter of women and kids, Bastian. What a way with words you have.”
Cesare leans forward. “Are you telling me your uncle was behind all of this?”
“Yes,” Bastian whispers. “He was careful. There’s no written evidence, nothing like that.
But yes, he told me to do this. He wanted control, he was afraid of losing his foothold in Ettore’s operation ever since his wife passed.
When he didn’t get his way, he sent me to push him into a new alliance.
Of course, he couldn’t be seen to start it. ”
“Look at him!” Ruggero snarls. “They’ve tortured the poor boy. They could make him say anything!”
“You don’t want to go down that road, Ruggero,” I warn him, standing and walking to the center of the room, where Bastian lies slumped. “I promise you, admit the truth now. Look at your men. They’re not stupid. They know you’re fighting a losing battle.”
“The testimony of a nobody!” Ruggero roars.
“A nobody you dressed all in black to honor. I suppose you’ll only love him when he’s dead. Let me help you with that.”
It’s ugly and vicious, what I do to Bastian in front of these men.
It takes a piece of me. It strips me bare to my dark, burning soul.
But I have to do it. Because he deserves it.
He tried to hurt those I care about most. And these men only understand darkness, pain, primal punishment.
I beat him the rest of the way to death, then wipe my hands on my trousers.
“Die with some dignity, Ruggero,” I snarl, staring at him. “Admit it.”
“There’s nothing to admit,” Ruggero hisses. “And you’ve just killed your only witness!”
I sigh, gesturing to my men. I can feel the energy in the room change. The rank and file are staring at me with a kind of brutal wonder. Ottavio and Cesare look impressed, knowing I did what I had to do.
Two minutes of tense quiet later, my men return. Ambra Calvi stands between them, Ruggero’s daughter, the woman they tried to make me marry. She’s a thin woman with blonde hair, a professional air about her. Nothing wrong with her, but nothing right either—not for me. Nothing but our names.
“Ambra?” Ruggero says, and he sounds terrified.
“Dad, I’m sorry,” she whispers. She holds her head high, purposefully avoiding looking at her cousin. “But I can’t do this anymore.”
“What are you talking about, dear?” Ruggero tries to make his voice sound sweet, but it comes out shaky with rage. “You’re confused.”
“I can’t be a slave to this life anymore,” Ambra says.
You and me both.
“I heard you and Bastian,” she goes on. “I heard you planning. I heard you talking about what you were going to do to that poor girl, to Sylvana Bellandi. I heard it all. I tried to forget it. Tried to pretend you were still the versions you showed to me. But you knew about this—”
I expected more of a back and forth. I expected Ruggero to still have some love for his daughter, even just in his own messed-up way. But in his final moments, he reveals who he really is. Blind rage takes over. Hatred bubbles up in him.
He leaps to his feet quicker than I could’ve imagined, gun in hand. When he raises it, it’s not to shoot me or even one of my men. It’s to shoot his own daughter. That’s what he wants his legacy to be.
I take out my gun and empty the magazine into his chest and face. I keep firing until I hear the click-click-click that means it’s empty. My ears ringing even worse than before.
Everybody has their guns out now, every soldier, both Dons. But Ruggero’s men aren’t firing at me.
“Get her out of here,” I growl to nobody in particular.
Ambra sobs as my men lead her from the room.
I drop my gun and raise my hands, looking at the Calvi men.
“We all have a choice here,” I growl. “We agree that these Calvis were poisoned fruit, one of your high-ranking men becomes temporary Don, and you assign a new Don in due course. Or you shoot me down here. Kill as many of my men as you can. Kill some of their men in the process…” I nod at Ottavio and Cesare.
“And we turn this city into a bloodbath.”
I always thought I wouldn’t be scared when the time came. And maybe that would’ve been true once. But now I’ve got too much to lose. A better relationship with my daughter. A chance at having a real partner, real love, real connection.
Hope—that’s what I never had before. And that’s what they could take away with a simple squeeze of the trigger.
“Know something, fellas,” I say fiercely.
“If you do the right thing – if you accept this scumbag deserved it, and let me walk out of here – no one in this room will ever try to force me or my family to do a goddamn thing. No marriage alliances. No implications about my daughter. Nothing. If you’re not happy with that, then do it.
” A pause. I slam my fist against my chest. “Fucking do it!”
Corrado Vescari is the first to lower his gun. “This ends here.”
Ottavio sighs dramatically, sweat beading his forehead. “Does that mean I can light another cigarette?”
Cesare places his gun on the table. “In light of Ruggero’s decision to attempt to murder his daughter, I think we can waive the usual procedures, just this once. Does anyone object?”
“The only thing I object to is going another second without a whiskey,” Ottavio says, sucking his cigarette down.
“I’ve made myself clear,” I snarl, looking at the other Calvi men. They all avert their gazes.
I turn away and storm out of the room.