34. Dom
Dom
The church is stuffy, filled with the nauseating scent of too many flowers, and the hushed whispers of mourners, making the air feel heavy with tension as we wait for the service to begin.
A woman I barely recognize taps my shoulder. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she says, her face a mask of fake sympathy. “She was such a lovely woman.”
But nobody here knew her. Not the real Helena. Not the woman behind the perfect smile and designer clothes.
I give her a pleasant nod as sunlight filters through stained glass, casting colored shadows across veiled faces, but when the church doors open, a hush falls over the congregation and the woman leaves us.
Amara sits beside me as I shift uncomfortably in the hard wooden pew. Her warmth against my arm is the only thing keeping me grounded in this moment.
The organ plays softly in the background, the melancholy notes drowning out the words of those around me as the pallbearers enter, carrying the ornate coffin on their shoulders. Their faces are solemn, and their steps in time with the beat.
I gave Helena the send-off she’d love. Expensive. Showy. The kind of funeral that would make people talk for weeks.
I turn and look at the sea of black-clad figures. Some dabbing at dry eyes, others whispering behind programs.
The coffin comes into my view, and I should feel something, but I feel nothing for the woman in that casket. I care only for the woman with her head on my shoulder.
The coffin is laid out at the front of the church, surrounded by a sea of white lilies.
The priest steps forward to begin the service, his Bible clutched in weathered hands, ready to eulogize a woman he never truly knew.
Nobody did.
At the graveside, I acknowledge Romeo and Mateo Conti with a nod as they pass by, their eyes shifting between me, my sons Dante and Rafe, Cade, and finally my daughter-in-law, Amara’s sister, Lia. They’ve stopped concealing their relationship from public view.
I’m glad and soon, I’ll do the same with Amara.
I give them a brief nod when they glance back at me.
“Is everyone attending the wake?” Mafia Don Eduardo Gallo inquires of Dante, addressing him exclusively.
“We’ll appear for about an hour,” Dante replies tersely as the priest requests everyone to be seated and begins the service.
Following the priest’s words and the mourners’ individual expressions of sympathy to the family, I rise and approach my son Dante.
“I thought you wanted to lead this family, Dante,” I remark, while keeping Amara in my peripheral vision as she converses with Milly.
“I once did, but Lia’s expecting and I need to protect my children.”
“Join me in the car. We need to talk about it.”
“We don’t.”
His twin Rafe overhears and murmurs, “Discuss this in the vehicle, not here, Dante.”
At my limousine, the chauffeur swings the door open, but I wait for Amara and Milly to arrive. “Step inside. We’ll talk en route.”
Dante shakes his head. “We’ve got our own vehicle.”
“I’ll have one of my men drive your car to the wake. I need to speak with all of you away from prying ears.”
Cade passes Dante’s keys to me, but I wait until Amara and Milly are seated before summoning one of my men and giving him the keys. “Follow us to the wake.”
“Certainly, boss.”
Inside the limo, Lia sits flanked by Amara and Milly, her arms draped around their shoulders. I sit next to Dante facing them, while Rafe and Cade occupy the same long seat as us.
I extract a ring from my pocket, one of just five worldwide, symbolizing the Syndicate. Five rings representing each ruling family. I glance at Lia. “Inside the ring that binds.”
Lia looks at me, but her status can’t be discussed in this car right now.
“My tenure is complete. Your era begins.”
Dante visibly hesitates, his hand partially raised but not grasping the ring. “I’ve already told you I no longer want it. I need to safeguard Lia and my children, which I can do better without de Luca family obligations.”
His statement lingers heavily. This was never discussed between us, and I know being married to Lia changes so much for Dante.
“Please. You and Lia together can transform the mafia’s landscape. I believe in your capability.”
Dante’s eyes drift toward me.
“Please,” I implore. “Please alter things. Improve them.”
Such conflict shows in his expression; he desires this. “Please.” I nod, my pulse quickening as I observe Dante struggling with his choice.
Just as he extends his hand, a thunderous blast disrupts the moment. The car rocks fiercely, its structure creaking under pressure.
Boom!
The vehicle shudders.
People shriek.
My pulse pounds as fragments of contorted metal clatter onto the car’s roof, sounding like staccato gunshots.
The earth beneath quivers, and I instinctively lower my head as another cascade of debris descends around us.
I seize Amara’s hand, drawing her to me and settling her on my lap. Feeling her tremble, I whisper, “Everything’s okay.”
“Fuck!” Dante yells.
The vehicle behind us is engulfed in flames with dense, acrid smoke that swirls skyward as people flee in panic, their cries cutting through the chaos.
Floating soot and the caustic odor of scorched tires fill the air, and only when the haze dissipates does the reality of what happened become clear.
“That was our car, Dante.” Lia gazes out of the bulletproof rear window at the mangled wreckage behind us. “Someone deliberately targeted us.”
“We should return home,” Cade suggests, looking between me and Dante.
“Absolutely not. Someone wanted to murder my wife and unborn children,” Dante seethes. “And that individual isn’t expecting seeing us at the wake. When I discover who’s responsible, we’ll be attending another funeral.”
He claims the ring from my palm and looks at it. “Nobody threatens my family.”
The sleek black limousine purrs as we weave through traffic, the speedometer climbing higher with each passing second. My jaw aches from clenching my teeth.
Someone tried to kill my son.
My daughter-in-law.
My unborn grandchildren.
Dante’s face is a mask of cold fury that mirrors my own. We’re heading to a wake I no longer give a damn about, but appearances must be maintained. Weakness cannot be shown.
And someone is going to pay.
At the hotel, I wait for everyone to get out of the car before I pull my phone from my pocket and dial a familiar number.
“Caleb.” His voice is clear on the other end.
“I need you at my house in twenty minutes.” My voice is tight, controlled, but barely.
“What’s happened?” The concern in his voice is immediate.
“Someone just tried to kill Dante, Rafe, Cade, and Lia. Blew up their fucking car right after Helena’s funeral.” I watch Amara as she talks to her sisters. Her arms wrapped around her body. “Amara’s on her way home. She’s had a shock. She’ll need you.”
“Christ, Dom. Is everyone—”
“Everyone’s alive. For now.” I cut him off. “I’m sending Amara and Milly home. I need to handle this...situation.”
“I’ll be there.”
No questions.
No hesitation.
This is why Caleb has always been my friend, even when I don’t deserve it.
“Thank you.” I disconnect the call.
Inside, the wake is already underway. People mingling, drinking, pretending to mourn. I spot Milly standing with Lorenzo near the bar. I approach them quickly.
“Milly, I need you to take Amara home.”
She looks at me, concern etched across her features. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain later. Just get her out of here. Now.”
Lorenzo steps forward. “I’ll drive them, Mr. de Luca.”
I eye him carefully. Bianchi’s son. Not my first choice, but reliable enough. “You can go too, but my driver is taking you.”
Enzo nods. “I’ll follow them.”
I leave with Milly and Enzo to get Amara, who looks pale and shaken as she stands with Lia, whose face is far too controlled.
“Milly and Amara are going home.”
“Good.” Lia kisses her sisters on their cheeks before we make our way through the crowd toward the exit.
Outside, Lorenzo helps the girls into my car, and then he gets into his.
She’s safe.
As the vehicle pulls away, Antonio Conti approaches, standing silently beside me.
“Things are going to change, Antonio.” I don’t look at him, my eyes fixed on the disappearing taillights. “Nobody threatens my family. Nobody. It’s time to deal with the one person who I believe caused this.”
As I stand in the shadows of the venue’s back room, watching as two bodies are zipped into black plastic bags, the metallic scent of blood hangs in the air, mixing with the lingering smell of gunpowder.
My heart races, but not from fear—from satisfaction. A rush of euphoria floods through me, making my fingertips tingle and my chest expand.
Killing two people at a funeral wake isn’t something I often do. Not that I had to do the killing, but I was prepared to.
Nobody threatens my family and loved ones and gets away with it. But it had to be done; the threat has plagued my family for months now.
Two bodies are bundled out of the hotel, and the cleaners are already inside eliminating the evidence.
That's the mafia for you. Always getting away with indiscretions.
I straighten my tie, brushing invisible dust from my jacket sleeve. Antonio Conti approaches, his footsteps nearly silent on the marble floor.
“It’s done,” he says, voice low. “No traces.”
I nod, feeling a smile tug at my lips. “Good. And the security footage?”
“Already taken care of. As far as anyone knows, they left early.”
“Perfect.” I clap him on the shoulder. “I owe you one.”
Antonio shakes his head. “Family takes care of family. You would do the same. Oh and so you know, Con was in Angels and Sinners when Amara was hit by the car. He wasn’t to blame.”
“He told you, or you have proof?”
“Cade confirmed it. And Cade has no reason to doctor the footage. Mateo and Enzo made it to the safe room. They stayed there until two am.”
“Okay. I’m happy to hear that.”
Antonio slaps my back. “Me too.”
Dante and Lia enter the room, her hand protectively over her swollen belly. The sight of them—alive, safe—sends another wave of relief through me.
“Dad,” Dante says, his eyes darting to the bags being carried out to the rear of the hotel to a waiting boat. “It’s over?”
“It’s over,” I confirm, walking toward them. I take Lia’s hands in mine. “You know, you’re probably the strongest person who will ever get to be the boss.”
She smiles, a fierce light in her eyes. “I’ll be the one who changes things. The Syndicate won’t always be about violence and retribution.”
“I believe you will,” I say, and I mean it.
Dante wraps his arms around his wife’s shoulder, kisses her cheek. “First, you’re going on early maternity leave.”
She laughs, the sound bright against the darkness of what just happened. “We’ll see about that.”
I look around the room, at the cleaners, as they check one last time that they've eliminated every trace of what happened before they leave on the boat to destroy the bodies. “Everything is taken care of. I’m going home now.”
The relief of having sabotaged the threat to my family makes my steps lighter as I walk through the venue toward the exit.
But outside, Detective Ingram walks toward me, her badge glinting in the afternoon sun.
She is smiling as she says, “Dominic de Luca. I’m arresting you for the murder of Helena Bailey.”
My euphoria crashes down around me. I straighten my shoulders, meeting her gaze steadily.
“At least you got her name right.”