ELIANO #12
There is nothing left between us, all is ruined. Words carry no weight here, so I keep looking at his face as if he were a stranger, and the only thing I want is to see him with a bullet in his head.
"But there’s one thing you still haven’t learned after all those years being raised in the mafia," Rocco says through clenched teeth.
"There’s one rule with burners. Use it and lose it.
And you started using it like a regular damn phone," he snorts with contempt.
"Not the brightest tool in the shed, are you? "
I say nothing. I feel almost like a little boy getting his head chewed off for stupid mistakes by an older brother who, technically, is right.
Wait, rewind. Rocco is not my brother, I keep reminding myself of that. Looking into his eyes is like looking into my enemy. It makes all the difference.
I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me reacting in any way. There will be no family squabbles here, no playful scolding, no wagging fingers.
This is a conversation with a murderer.
Rocco squints his black eyes. He shares that trait with Ennio. Sometimes I wonder if Uncle Tito raped my dad and was Rocco’s real father too. After all, my dad hated Tito with a visceral, bone-deep hatred.
"You don’t know the day or the night, little brother, the day or the night when I’ll come for you. You and Mauro slipped through my fingers today, but don’t get too comfortable. You can’t stop me."
A disturbing thought flashes through my mind. Did he go after Mauro too?
"Someone will stop you," I say, feeling an icy chill crawl down my spine. "You’ve made one mistake too many, Rocco."
He bursts into a dark laugh.
"You? You threatening me?"
I narrow my eyes. I know what to touch so it hurts.
"You’re a pathetic weak capo, Rocco. Instead of building the family’s strength and arming us against the Russians, you’re playing personal games aimed at the family itself, weakening our influence."
The muscles in Rocco’s jaw tighten as he replies, "You stupid brat. You understand nothing about this business. Before I make my move, I need to restore the family’s good name, the one you dragged through the mud. Power is also about image. Our enemies will know I won’t tolerate… betrayal."
"Careful you don’t take it too far, bastard. Your papa did, with Anzo. And he met his end. Don’t repeat his mistakes."
There’s this very heavy silence at my words. Yeah, I’m not sure if Rocco really is Tito's bastard, but it gives me pure satisfaction to use it like that.
"What did you just say?"
I burst into laughter.
"Yeah, you’ve heard me all right. You’ll run into the wrong wall eventually. Someone will take you down."
"I know one thing," he says through clenched teeth, "it won’t be you." He leans in slightly and points a finger at me. "And relax, soon there won’t be anyone left to warn you anyway."
Is he implying that he knows who warned me?
I stay silent, keeping my face still. Nothing good would come of giving him the thrill of seeing my unease.
Rocco shifts back and makes a casual motion with his fingers along his forearm as if brushing off a dust speck.
"That beta of yours is pretty cute, if you ignore all the tattoos and piercings. Never thought you had that kind of taste…"
I feel my heart rate spike, my blood pressure climbing. How does he know?
"When I’m done with you, I’ll take a ride into his tight beta ass." He chortles.
The murderous instincts I’ve spent my whole life fighting surge up inside me like rising heat. Still, I hold back, because I know what he’s trying to do here, to see me scared, cornered. It takes everything I have not to hit the screen with my fist.
"Well, I guess you’ve made it your way, haven’t you? Born of rape, living by it."
Controlling my facial muscles so they show nothing is an ongoing challenge. Rocco can’t know he got to me. I’ll just kill the motherfucker. It has to be done.
He tilts his head.
In the lighting of his office, the scar on his face looks even worse, deeper, jagged.
He never had it removed, even though cosmetic surgery could deal with it easily.
I think he keeps it on purpose, to intimidate, to remind everyone how he was raised, and to wear it proudly like a medal for service.
"Hold on tight," he says with strange amusement. "And don’t let go. The moment you even stick your head off that damn island, I’ll be waiting for you…"
Then the call cuts out.
I sit motionless in the chair, my mind completely blank.
The only positive thing Rocco indirectly confirmed is that Mauro somehow managed to slip past the mafia’s enforcers too.
But the fact that Rocco found him at all proves what I have felt from the start: that the secluded cabin in the middle of the woods is not that… secluded after all.
Feeling horribly tense, I get up and leave the room.
In the open space outside, there are usually a few betas working customer support, answering questions from people interested in the Beta Activation Program. Right now it’s empty. They must all be out for lunch.
On one of the desks, I notice a phone someone has left behind. The lock screen hasn’t even turned on yet.
I stare at it blankly, then snap out of it.
Something catches my attention. On impulse, I grab the phone.
On the top bar, I notice the small circle of the employee-only Wi-Fi.
It means the phone is connected to the network through the same staff hotspot I used while talking with Rocco, which allows them to make regular calls.
Interesting. Oh well… I might as well use it.
I dial Ennio’s number from memory.
It will probably show up as an unknown number on his end. I might even be putting the phone’s owner at risk, but I have to make this call.
"Yes," a stern voice answers.
"Ennio, it’s me."
"I’m glad to hear you’re alive," Ennio says flatly.
"I could say the same. Rocco just called me here, on the island. He congratulated me on slipping away, but he also said that soon there won’t be anyone left to warn me. Please, you’ve helped me so many times. Now I want to warn you. Rocco is coming for you too."
There’s a moment of silence on the line, and then suddenly,
"I know that. And I’m ready."
I blink, stunned.
"Ready for what? It’s hard to be ready for him, Ennio. That bastard has no limits. He’ll do anything to reach his goal."
"Eliano, if you had to bet in this duel, would you bet on me or on Rocco?"
Ennio beats Rocco in raw intelligence, but Rocco wins in ruthlessness. What does that leave? Rocco will not hesitate to use the most vile methods imaginable. Ennio would never stoop that low.
But I can’t tell him that I’m afraid this might be the last time I ever speak to him.
"On you," I whisper, wanting to believe it.
"I’ve had time to prepare for certain things. It won’t be easy for him to catch me off guard. Trust me."
"I’ll try. You’re the only reason Mauro and I survived. That Salt survived. I’m just a little afraid Rocco's thirst for revenge is too voracious—"
"I’ll deal with him, Eliano. Have more faith in me."
I blink as I hear it, realizing what it may mean. Suddenly, it starts to sink in. What if the solution to my dilemma is so much simpler?
Ennio is a far superior candidate to kill Rocco than I am. I almost feel a wave of guilty relief when I see how perfectly it fits.
"You’re definitely a better man than me to stand up to that monster, Ennio," I say, choosing my words carefully.
"And so you know, you have my blessing. Di stu mumentu nun mi lèganu cchiù a iddu li vincoli di sangu. Fa’ chiddu ca riteni giustu.
" (From this moment on, no ties of blood bind me to him anymore. Do what you believe is right.)
There’s a pause. I know he understands the weight of what I said. As Rocco’s brother, I renounce him, and it gives Ennio the right to do what’s right without retaliation from me.
A sense of gratitude floods me at the thought that my problem might resolve itself almost…
magically. For the past two days, I’ve been running through different complicated and difficult scenarios of how to kill Rocco, convinced that if I don’t do it, my life will never settle down, that Salt and I will always be fighting an uphill battle, that one blow will come after another.
And I’m so tired. I just want everything to finally cool down, and to enjoy my new family. Our journey has been long enough.
So it spills out of me.
"I’ve been torturing myself with ideas of how to kill him, Ennio. Because somebody has to put him down like the rabid dog he’s become. But I have no easy way to leave the island and make sure Salt’s protected."
"There’s no need. Things will clear up soon."
I close my eyes, barely believing what I hear, or how blissful it sounds. But one thing needs to be said.
"I owe you my life, Ennio. I was really at the end of my rope when he bombarded the unit. Salt is pregnant, we’re expecting a child."
"Congratulations, Eliano. But I can hear too much stress in your voice. You need to get it together, like an alpha should, especially as a future father. I’m going to need you down the line. Understood, soldier?"
I swallow. Of course. Ennio might be the good guy inside the mafia, but he was still raised by it, which means there’s no room for weakness.
Ennio despises it. He always keeps himself under control.
In all my life, I’ve never seen him emotionally unraveled or broken.
He never shows it. He’s like steel. It’s almost hard to believe he’s an omega.
"And remember, Eliano. Your debt is growing."
I sigh. "I remember."
"We will make this family work again. And even more powerful. I'll make sure of it."
I sigh. Ennio is extremely principled and keeps his affairs in strict order.
Honestly, I see him as an excellent leader for our family business.
He’s the only kind of man I could even swear a mafia oath of loyalty to, because I know that under his rule, what happened during Rocco’s reign would have never been allowed.