45. Lucas
CHAPTER 45
Lucas
A sharp glimmer of pain and hurt, like a thin shard of glass catching the light, reflected in Serafina's emerald eyes and pierced me straight to the core. And knowing that I am the one that put it there makes me feel like a piece of shit. All I want is to fix things between us, to spend every moment of my life making up for what I have done.
To have a second chance at what we should've had from the beginning.
A small part of me feels an unshakable dread that the window for redemption has closed forever after pulling that stunt. But I can't focus on that right now. Not when the Fabiettis are still on the loose.
The room I currently sit in smells of cigar smoke and old leather, the scent clinging to every surface like a ghost. I lean back in my chair, my eyes scanning the faces around the table. Don Martin sits at the head of the conference table, his dark eyes sharp and calculating. Dominic sits by his left side while I take a seat on his right. The weight of Don Martin's authority presses down on all of us.
"Lucas, what updates do you have on the Fabiettis?" His voice carries a gravelly tone from years of commanding respect—and fear.
"Their operations are spread too thin. We can hit their weak spots." I lean forward, fixing my gaze on him.
Nora sits across from me, her vibrant blue highlights glimmering in the dim light like shards of sapphire. Her eyes sparkle with determination, like a firefly dancing in the darkness. It's the look she gets when she knows she's onto something big.
Observing my friend in her element as a lawyer fills me with immense pride. As we sat together this morning to discuss the findings of her and Raul's investigation, I couldn't help but marvel at how much she has achieved. Against all odds, she has chased down and captured her dreams with tenacity and determination.
"Actually," she begins, flipping through a meticulous stack of documents. "There's another way. The FBI is meticulously building a RICO case against the Fabiettis. If we join forces with them, providing the crucial missing pieces, we can bring down the notorious crime family through legal means."
"Legally?" Dominic echoes, raising an eyebrow. This isn't exactly their style, so it will take some clever maneuvering on Nora's part. But if anyone can make it work, it's her.
"Yes, Dominic," she says firmly. "They've got most of the picture but missing some crucial evidence. We could provide that." Her voice is tinged with confidence and determination as she gazes at me, her expression daring me to doubt her plan.
"Ratting out the Fabiettis to the feds. That's what you're suggesting?" Dominic asks, skepticism heavy in his tone.
"Not exactly," she counters, her voice low and steady. "We wouldn't be directly involved. I can work it out so we're protected."
"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" The sound of Don Martin's fist slamming down on the mahogany table echoes through the room, sending a half-empty glass of whiskey teetering precariously.
Nora starts to speak but is immediately silenced by Don Martin's fierce glare.
"Silencio!" His voice reverberates through the room, thick with anger and betrayal. "You think I would stoop to being a rat? A snitch?"
"Don Martin," I interject, my own tone firm but respectful. The tension in the air is palpable, suffocating almost. "Nora has a plan to do this without becoming informants."
"Explain," he demands, his voice cold and hard.
I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady as I respond. "Look, we don't have to hand everything over to the Feds directly. We can use intermediaries, anonymous tips. We control the flow of information. No one will know it comes from us."
"Es complicado," Don Martin grumbles, the worry evident on his face. Too risky.
"Not if we're smart about it," Nora says confidently. "I won't give them any information until they guarantee immunity to you and your empire - make sure your hands stay clean."
"Clean," Don Martin scoffs, leaning back in his chair with a bitter laugh. "There's no such thing in this business, ni?a." His gaze flickers between us, weighing our options as we all share a tense moment of silence.
Nora's jaw tightens, and her eyes flash with defiance, but she holds her tongue. She has never been one to stay silent, so I'm impressed to see her remain quiet when Don Martin calls her a little girl. "Maybe not spotless," I concede, needing to divert her attention from Don Martin. My own voice is calm and measured, masking the tension that simmers beneath the surface. "But cleaner than another bloodbath. Cleaner than more bodies strewn in the street."
"I don't trust the government," he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. His stance is defensive and hostile, as if he's ready for a fight at any moment. "They'll find a way to turn on us the first chance they get."
"That's why we don't give them the chance," Nora retorts, her voice soft but unyielding. She stands tall, her posture strong and unwavering. "I secure an ironclad contract with them; I shield your identity from them by wrapping you in so many shell corporations that they'll have to spend the next 100 years trying to find you."
"She's right," I add, emphasizing each word with conviction. The gravity of our situation weighs heavily on my shoulders. "Are we really ready to bring a full-blown war to our doorstep?"
Don Martin's eyes bore into mine, searching for any sign of weaknesses. His eyebrows furrow, and his lips purse in a deep frown as he considers my proposal. With a long, audible exhale, the tension seeps out of him like air from a punctured tire. "Fine," he finally grumbled, his voice laced with reluctance. "We'll consider your plan, pero no me gusta, ?entiendes?"
"Sí, Don Martin," I nod. "I don't like it either. But it's the best plan we have right now."
"Fine," Don Martin grumbled again, waving us off dismissively. "Now get to work."
With Nora by my side, I stand up from the table and head towards the door, ready to leave. But before I can take a step, Don Martin's commanding voice stops me in my tracks. "Lucas, stay."
My response is immediate and respectful. "Sí, Don Martin," I say, my tone betraying a hint of curiosity. "I'll just walk Nora to her car."
Nora gives my arm a reassuring nudge as we make our way out of the room. "Thanks for backing me up in there."
"Always," I reply with a small smile. "Just make sure this plan of yours works."
"Don't worry," she says, her confidence unwavering. "I've got this."
As we exit the building and make our way toward her car, I can't help but mutter, "Yeah, let's hope so."
As I return to the building, Dominic emerges from the entrance, his face etched with frustration. He walks past me, our shoulders colliding, and he grabs me by the collar in a fit of anger. "This better not be a fucking trap, asshole."
Anger flares up inside me, but I remain composed as I brush off his hand and straighten my shirt. "Do not lay your hands on me again, or you will regret it," I warn him coolly before walking away. "I would never betray Serafina's family." Dominic scoffs and heads towards his car while I continue towards Don Martin's building.
Back at the boardroom, Don Martin's deep voice rings out the moment I enter, "I want you to meet the two most important people in my life." He gestures towards a shadowed corner of the room and quickly, two men emerge from the darkness, their presence commanding.
"Benjamin and Ethan, my sons." His voice softens in their presence, pride evident. "They've traveled all the way from Mexico City for this."
"Un placer," I greet them with a small smile, extending my hand in greeting.
"The pleasure is all mine," Benjamin replies, his grip firm. Ethan nods, an echo of his brother's confidence. Both exude power, like they were born to it.
"Benjamin is a senator," Don Martin's voice is filled with adoration as he explains. "And Ethan, well, he's got more connections in the political world than anyone else in the game."
"Politics runs in the family," Ethan adds, a smirk playing on his lips. "We've been helping Papá here with a few... logistical issues."
"Logistics?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"Securing sources, managing distribution," Benjamin explains with a confident smile. "Ensuring everything flows seamlessly between borders. There's a lot more to it than just muscle."
"Impressive," I admit as I try to ignore a pang in my chest. Their camaraderie with their father, it's something I've never had. My own old man left when I was too young to remember him.
Don Martin's voice booms through the high-ceilinged room, his words punctuated by the clinking of glasses and murmured conversations. "Lucas, you'll work closely with them," he continues, gesturing to his sons. "It's time we expand our operations here in the States. Your knowledge of the terrain, combined with our vast resources, will be invaluable."
"Entiendo," I acknowledge my understanding as I try to keep my expression neutral. "What's the plan?"
"First, we establish stronger political ties here," Ethan leans forward, his sharp features highlighted by the dim lighting. "Use your connections, leverage what we have. The Mancinis aren't yet a part of the local union? We'll need to change that."
Benjamin interjects, his deep voice cutting through the buzz of conversation. "Then we secure our supply lines. Keep the FBI and DEA off our backs."
"Sounds straightforward," I reply, though I know nothing ever is in this world. "But can we trust our Mexican connections?"
"Absolutely," Benjamin asserts confidently. "They're loyal. To us, to the cause."
My doubts linger, but I push them aside for now. "Good," I say with forced conviction. "Let's get to work then."
"Lucas," Don Martin says, a rare softness in his tone. "You're part of this family now. We expect loyalty."
"Siempre," I assure him, though my mind drifts to thoughts of my own past. The fights, the struggles, the loneliness. Family—it's a word that means different things to different people. For me, it's always been a dream, just out of reach.
"Alright, let's go over the details," Ethan's sharp tone snaps me back to the present. As they discuss the intricate logistics, a mix of envy and longing stirs within me. Maybe this is my chance, not just for power, but for something even more elusive - belonging.
"Vamos a hacer historia," Benjamin declares boldly.
"Sí," I agree, forcing a smile. "Let's make history."