“Anything on that Felix fucker yet?” I ask Nolan as our convoy pulls up to its final destination.
“He seems to have escaped with Ciro during the warehouse fire. We’ve accounted for most of the other men, but those two are still like ghosts. No one’s seen them around. Not one person out of all my contacts, above and below ground.”
That worries me. I’ve slowly been able to convince myself that Ciro might just be callous enough to forget about Elisa, but the way my princess talks about this Felix bastard makes me think that he is actually like some protective uncle to her. If that’s true, then there’s no way he’s just hiding out, trying to save his own skin. He’ll be planning to rescue her, and while I’m not too worried about him getting past my defences, someone as experienced as him could probably do some serious damage.
“Keep looking,” I mumble, staring out at the ratty storefront outside.
Dad and I didn’t get our idea to stuff some of our most valuable security equipment inside a seemingly grimy warehouse out of thin air. The Italians have been employing grubby facades for decades and this meeting spot is no exception. From the outside, it looks like a run-down deli from the 1950’s. Inside, though…
We wait in the car while our men do their initial sweep of the premise. When we get the thumbs up, I straighten my tie and head inside.
Just past the worn-down entrance is another door. This one leads to the ballroom. A cavernous space lined with velvet red drapes as tall as skyscrapers. There are no windows. All the lightning comes from the gaudy chandeliers that drip down from the sky-high ceiling above.
Ahead, members of The Family chat around a forty-foot oakwood table. Those not standing do so when our arrival is announced.
“All hail the new king!” Adriano Sabatino is the first one who dares speak. He lifts a glass and everyone else follows.
“Salute!”
The grandiose gesture immediately rubs me the wrong way. This isn’t a celebration. It’s a reconvening. I’m here to tell them the direction we’re going in, not get fawned over.
Despite being at the head of the table, I’m not actually part of The Family. After the whole fiasco with Dad, the Italians decided that some changes were in order. At Ciro’s behest, they codified their racket into writing, and part of that new law included a strict policy of never letting any more non-Italians into the syndicate.
It’s part of the reason my plan to marry Ciro’s daughter was so deliciously enticing. After the marriage, I’ll be able to sneak my own Italian figurehead into the syndicate. Elisa. She’ll be my pawn so that I can keep an even tighter grip over the assholes who went along with Ciro’s betrayal and ruined my father.
Right now, I’m not privy to their inner-most workings. They have their own meetings, but I’m still boss, king of the underworld. No one has more power than me, and they know it.
To survive, they’ve had to suck up to Dad. And now, they have to suck up to me. Soon though, I’ll have corrupted the purity of their organization, and it will be because I’ve managed to corrupt the daughter of one of their former members.
See what happens when you double-cross my family?
Everyone gets fucked.
They know what’s happening, but they can’t stop it. I’m sure they’ve already convened and decided that the best route forward is to lie down and take it and hope that I don’t fuck them over too badly. That’s definitely their best option. My lenience as their ruler depends on how well they comply going forward. We both know that I need their underworld connections to keep things stable, but it’s also no secret that I could wipe them out with a snap of my fingers.
It’s a fine line, and it’s one I’m trying especially hard to balance gracefully right now.
“Please, sit,” I say when the cheers have died down. My family and I move towards the head of the table. There, I sit in the empty throne. Dad stands to my left. Nolan and Shane to my right.
Everybody does as I say. Silence follows as the heads of the Four Families sit in their respective chairs, surrounded by their closest advisors and family.
Nobody speaks until I do.
“There has been treachery.”
My first words have a very specific purpose. Nolan, Shane and Dad all have their eyes peeled on a particular part of the table. Dad is to gauge the reaction of the Camporese family. Nolan the Gallis. Shane the Sabatinos. I’m keeping my gaze fixed on Manuel Vignotto and his crew. Out of all of these scumbags, I trust him the least.
We’re looking for any unusual reactions that might give our traitors away.
But no one from Manuel’s camp budges at my announcement. Similarly, no one from my camp gives me the signal that their target has broken face.
Oh well, it was merely a simple trick that might have sped things up.
“Who here has good news for me?”
After a little hesitation, Leo Camporese rises to his feet. The fat bald Italian man has been Don of the Camporese family for forty years. As little as I truly trust anyone in this room, I at least have some grudging respect for anyone who can survive in this business for that long.
“I think we would all agree that the good news of your ascension is all the excuse any of us needed to gather here for the first time in all these years.” The table mumbles in agreement. My bullshit detector is beeping like crazy. I hardly believe that this is the first time they’ve congregated in years. “But my men also did come across some information on the preparators of your warehouse fire.”
“And?” I ask, not expecting much. We may have put word out that whoever could lead me to the Russians responsible for the fire would be rewarded, but if my men can’t find anything, I have a hard time believing that any of these neutered families would have much luck.
“The Cheryshev Bratva.”
“Ha!” The simple-minded fool. My guffaw echoes around the silent cavern as I stand up from my seat. Leo looks taken aback by my bluntness, but I don’t care. “I’ve already been fed those lies,” I say. “The Cheryshev Bratva is nothing but a loose conglomerate of petty criminals with hardly enough direction and leadership to steal a car, let alone burn down one of my warehouses.”
“… But they confessed under torture,” Leo adds.
“Aye, as they did to me when I interrogated them. But we have more than empty words from dead mouths to go on.” I raise my index finger and Shane gets to work distributing the still shots Nolan recovered from the fire. He places them face down in front of each Don. I wait for my brother to return to my side before I give them all the go ahead to look.
Their reactions are all the same. Slow recognition and then disbelief.
“Dmitry Gazin.” Vincenzo Galli is closest to me. I can hear the fear in his voice. Twenty years ago, The Family might not have been so terrified of a possible encounter with the Black Delphi, but after we castrated them in response to their betrayals, they became more vulnerable than ever. To defend against this possible threat, they’ll need us just as much as we might need them.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Adriano Sabatino stands up, picture in hand. I can see his fingers shaking, but that might be more from his oncoming Parkinson’s than from fear. Though I wouldn’t be surprise if it was a bit of both.
“That’s what we’re here to find out.”
The room grumbles and I let them vent for a little while before I raise my hand again. None of them we’re expecting this.
Our meeting here was supposed to be tantamount to my first declaration, the signal of a smooth transition of power from Dad to me. Not the start of a potential war.
“None of you fine folks would so happen to be harboring any of these Black Delphi members, would you?”
“How dare you!” Adriano shouts, fear overriding any front of decorum. “We were the ones who stamped the Russians out of New York in the first place. Years before you were even born! We would never work with such beasts.”
“I seem to remember you saying the same thing about us Irish, Adriano,” for the first time, Dad steps in.
We share a look and I let him know that I have it under control. With a nod, he steps back. Still, his interjection is enough to shut Adriano right the hell up. The self-righteous bastard.
“Don Kilpatrick, we’ll need your help to fight off Dmitry Gazin and his people. Surely, if they’ve come after you, we’re next.” Leo Camporese gives me exactly what I wanted. Subservience.
“I will give you my help. Just as you will give me yours,” I respond. “Your old friend, Ciro D’Ignoti. I suspect he is playing a part in all this. I also suspect he has had some of your help escaping my surveillance. Give me his audience and I will make sure no harm comes to you.” As if I can truly promise that.
The Black Delphi, as well as Ciro, have escaped my grasp so far. Still, we all know our real power lies in working together, and the only way that any of us are going to work together is if I command it.
“What could Ciro possibly have to say that could help us?” Vincenzo sneers.
“My instincts tell me he’s working with the Black Delphi.”
“But you don’t know?”
I don’t respond. The raucous is getting too loud again. Once more, I raise my hand and the room reluctantly settles.
This is when Manuel Vignotto finally decides to speak up. “Don Kilpatrick, if I may?”
He gets a curt nod.
The middle-aged Italian took over the Vignotto family when his aging father died four years ago. Despite not being privy to all the past betrayal in this room, he’s the one I trust the least. Manuel’s relative youth compared to the other Dons means he has a different way of approaching matters. His way doesn’t disguise itself as civilized. Much as I’m accused of being savage, so too is Manuel. He just doesn’t dress it up. It makes him quicker than these other fools.
“Ciro D’Ignoti is harmless. A neutered dog with no home and no allies. He is not our enemy. If what you say is true, and I believe it is. The Russians are who we should be focusing on. If anything, Ciro could be of help. After all, he was one of the main forces behind The Family’s eradication efforts of the Bratva threat all those years ago.”
I don’t like the way he’s angling this away from Ciro. It makes me even more suspicious of him. Every man here knows the history between me and Ciro. Similarly, they all should know that I have his daughter. The D’Ignoti princess is mine. What I really should be asking right now is why none of them had the guts to bid on her before I came along.
“It sounds like you’re arguing for mercy on Ciro’s behalf,” I accuse.
Manuel shakes his head. “I’ll let him do that for himself.” He raises his index finger in the air and the crew that surrounds him turns. “Please believe me, Don Kilpatrick, when I tell you I was only waiting for the right moment. There is no disrespect intended.”
My gut tightens and my hands draw into fists. Something is wrong. Manuel’s men stop their march at a back door not far away from the table. With a click, the door opens.
Out of the shadows steps Ciro D’Ignoti.
My first reaction is to reach for my gun. But I don’t have it on me. There have never been weapons allowed in these meetings, and as little as I trust these fuckers, I do have a certain amount of honor. Right now, I regret having that honor.
“What the fuck is the meaning of this?” Dad booms from behind me, before I can ask the exact same fucking thing. All four of us are in attack position.
Ciro glides forward, surrounded by four of Manuel’s men. The big goons look like they’d put up a good fight. I’m ready to give it to them. But it wouldn’t be smart. How many others here are in on this? We could be overwhelmed if we jumped in too soon.
“You bastard, Manuel. You’d betray us again!?” Instead, I turn my attention towards the Vignotto Don. I can barely even look at Ciro, I’m so disgusted.
“There is no betrayal here, Don Kilpatrick. I thought that you might want to see Ciro, so I brought him to you.”
I hardly believe that story. “He is your prisoner?”
“No.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“It is not my place.” Manuel raises his index finger again and his fleet stops in their tracks. Through the Vignotto shield, I can see Ciro glaring at me. Those beady black eyes burn with rage. He’s pissed off. I wonder if he’s thinking about what I’m doing to his daughter. God, I hope so. Still, he stays silent and let’s Manuel do the talking for him.
“Ciro came to me the other day, desperate and pleading for my help. He says the Russians took him. They burned down your warehouse to keep you from stopping them. But he’s escaped. And now he wants to tell us what he’s learned from them.”
“Bullshit,” I growl, not even bothering to cover up my revulsion.
“We should let him speak!” Leo Camporese interjects.
“We need to know what the Russians want,” Adriano Sabatino adds.
“How else are we going to stop them?” Even Vincenzo Gallis is in on it.
So, it’s a fucking mutiny. Or they’re just such cowards that they’d rather accept the word of a proven liar just to give themselves some comfort in the upcoming fight.
Either way, I’m repulsed.
“Enough!” I command. My voice carries through the cavernous ballroom like thunder and everyone shuts the fuck up. “Ciro has been expelled from The Family. His words have no credence. For all you know, he’s working with the Black Delphi to spite you all for getting rid of him. Who here would put it past him?”
I’m answered with silence.
That is, until the devil himself finally decides to speak for himself. “You fool.” Ciro’s voice is more hoarse than I remember. With any luck, it’s because he’s been suffering greatly.
“Why don’t you come here and say that,” I growl. There is little more in the world I want right now than to snap him in half. I don’t buy his sob story for a second. But if I don’t convince The Family to think the same way, then that could mean serious trouble for me.
“I’ll stay right here, thank you very much,” Ciro glares. He coughs the cough of a man who’s been through hell and back. You can’t fake a cough like that, but you sure can misattribute it. He’s worried about his daughter. That’s all. I’m still in control here.
“Coward,” I taunt, my fists clenching into balls of fire.
“No. Smart. I’m smart. And you would all be smart to stay away from the Kilpatricks too.” Ciro speaks to the entire table. They all listen. The traitorous fools.
“What would you know about who to stay close to?” I lash. “Those at this table have prospered by staying close to me and my family, while those close to you have only ever met their dooms. You’re cursed, Ciro. You’re an idiot and a weakling and so incompetent you can’t even protect your own daughter.” I make sure to say that last word louder than the rest.
It’s enough to get a reaction out of the previously demur Ciro. In the blink of an eye, he lunges for me. But Manuel’s men block his way. It takes four of them to hold him back. Ciro may be a cruel idiot, but no one’s ever accused him of being weak before. No one except for me.
“You fucking bastard,” Ciro hisses, tangled in the arms of Manuel’s men like a gargoyle in vines. He’s given up the calm façade he walked in here with. Fury seethes from his bared teeth. “If you touch her, I swear to god…”
“Too late,” I taunt him, stepping forwards. The way Manuel’s guards are handling Ciro makes me think that maybe Manuel and the other members of The Family aren’t actually vying up to betray me. They’re just cowards. Scared dogs who allowed themselves to be declawed in exchange for wealth and continued relevance. “You have nothing. You are nothing. What do I have to fear from you? Your daughter is mine, and I do what I want with what is mine, whether she likes it or not. Lucky for her, she so happens to like it. Love it. Understand?”
I’m close enough now that the spit from Ciro’s mouth falls at my shoes. “Idiot. She’s playing you. Elisa knows how to survive. She will never break for you,” he rasps. “She will never want you or care for you. I know that’s what you desire. And I know that you will never get it. She was raised right. She knows that you’re nothing but an animal. You can try all you want. She will never truly be yours.”
Something about that last line makes me go berserk. I lose control. Even Manuel’s men give way as I lunge forward and take Ciro by the collar.
His putrid breath smacks against my face as I rail him into the wall. “Let go of me!” He demands, clawing at my arms. I just push harder. Ciro is almost the same height as me, but physically, he’s no match. The old man has lost most of his strength. I hold him like a rag doll, completely at my mercy.
But he’s the one who taught me not to have any mercy.
“You’re dead, you motherfucker. You’re fucking dead. You hear me? I don’t care what you have to say. The second I catch you outside of these walls, I’m putting a bullet through your thick skull.” Really, I should gouge his eyes out right now and set an example in front of The Family. But as the blood rushes back away from my ears, I hear the voices pleading from behind me.
“Don Kilpatrick! At least let him tell us what he has to say about the Russians before you do him in.”
That sentiment seems to get far more traction that I fucking appreciate. But they’re not entirely wrong. Even if Ciro is lying, there may be clues in his lies.
The last straw is when I feel Dad’s reassuring hand on my shoulder. With one last hard push into the wall, I let Ciro go.
He falls to his knees, gasping for air. Pathetic. To think I was ever scared of such a man.
“Tell us your lies, Ciro. Tell us what you learned while you betrayed us all for the Russians.”
“I’m not working with them,” he coughs. Looking up at me, I see the rage in his eyes again. It infuriates me to know that I haven’t stomped it out of him yet. I want those eyes to go cold and dead and defeated. I need him to know that I won. That I’m not that scared little boy he locked away and terrorized all those years ago.
Dad gently pulls me back and I let Ciro scramble to his own feet. Everybody watches as he painfully clears the phlegm from his throat and looks around for allies. I watch him carefully, trying to gauge whether or not he believes he has any in this room.
“I’m not working with those savages,” he reiterates, hopelessly trying to fix his crooked tie. “The fools took me because they thought I would talk. They thought I had nothing left to live for. They thought I would spill every secret I ever knew and help them bring you down—”
“Why the hell do they want to bring us down!?” I hear from behind me.
Ciro spits blood onto the red carpet below. “They could care less about you. They don’t give a shit about the Italians. They only want to destroy you so that it’s easier to get to them.”
He points a shaky hand at me and my family.
“They want the Kilpatricks. They want to burn you all to the ground.”
A cold shiver runs over my skin.
“Why?” Someone else asks.
Ciro meets my gaze. His eyes are less furious now, but there’s something else dancing behind them. Something cruel and calculating.
I swear I catch the faintest glimpse of a smirk crawling across his weathered face. “They say you have something of theirs,” he says. “And you won’t give it back.”
Fuck. My spine steels. I try to hide the dread wrapping around my heart. That’s exactly what Vladimir said when we interrogated him.
“What?” I demand, stepping forward again. This time, Ciro doesn’t even flinch. He’s back in demon form. I doubt he can even feel the bruise I left around his neck. “What do we have of theirs?”
“They didn’t say,” Ciro announces, loud and clear so that everyone can hear. “I escaped before I could overhear that.”
“How the fuck did you escape?” The feeble old man couldn’t even fight back.
“I had some help.”
“From who?”
“The only man in my organization who you couldn’t buy.” For some reason, I know exactly who he’s talking about. “Felix Difrancesco.”
A bolt of jealousy flashes across my chest. That bastard. Elisa’s hero. Working with the very man who sold her like a cheap trick.
Ciro seems delighted by my reaction. That cruel smirk of his isn’t so subtle anymore. He leans in a little closer, so that only I can hear this next part. “Maybe, I’ll give him another rescue mission sometime soon.”
“If you want to live, you’ll hand him over,” I growl, holding myself back. Ciro will get what’s coming to him.
He pulls away again. “I don’t know where he is,” he shrugs.
“Then how the fuck would you give him another mission?”
“He seems to be able to find me no matter what.”
“Then, I’ll make sure I’ll be there when he finds you.”
Each member of this meeting was allowed to bring four guests. Most brought security, but, as a show of force and power, I chose to only bring my family members—well, them and the three-dozen dirty Irish cops that line the surrounding block. With a push of a button, they’ll raid this shithole and take away whoever I tell them to. But I’m not there yet, and I’m not about to disrespect my family by ordering any of them to touch Ciro. So, instead, I turn towards Manuel’s men. “Take him,” I command.
Their first reaction is to look back towards their boss. Manuel nods. Ciro doesn’t struggle. “We’ll look after him,” the Vignotto Don assures me.
I don’t trust him one bit. In fact, during this meeting, what little trust I had left for the entire syndicate has eroded even more than I thought possible. At best, they’re opportunistic cowards. At worst, they’re traitors.
Still, there’s no way I’m keeping Ciro anywhere near my family. “Take him to Calligastaro’s,” I order. “I have three-dozen cops waiting down the block. They’ll help escort him there.”
Calligastaro’s is a prison mansion built and owned by the syndicate. When men under our payroll get caught doing a crime in a very public manner, the only way to satiate our crooked cronies in the government is to send them away to do some time. But we don’t doom our loyal servants to real prison. Instead, we send them to Calligastaro’s, a converted mansion just outside of the city. We control all of the security there. Guards included.
A decision like this shouldn’t be a problem for anyone, except maybe Ciro.
“Did you bring those cops here to protect us from the Russians or to protect you from us?” Manuel Vignotto asks, as his men hold Ciro for me. Suspicion laces his question.
“They are here for whatever I need them for,” I sneer. I should have made it clear from the moment I saw Ciro that I had cops nearby. It’s evident from a quick scan around the room that The Family’s trust in me and my power is already slipping. That’s dangerous. Especially at a time like this. I need to maintain control. “Now take him away. This meeting is over.”
And unhappy grumble washes over the table, but I’m long past caring about the feelings of these grown men.
Followed by my dad and brothers, I escort the Vignotto crew outside and then get into contact with my chief of police around the corner. Everything goes smoothly and soon enough, I’m watching Ciro being driven away in the back of a police cruiser. He’s back under my control. But at what cost?
The knot in my gut tightens. I feel chaos on the horizon. If the syndicate doesn’t believe the future is with me, then they might try to join those intent on taking me down just to save their own asses.
The mood in that ballroom was palpable. One more wrong move and my entire inherited house of cards could come toppling down. It doesn’t even feel like I’ve done anything wrong to cause everything to get so unstable. But I guess Dad said it the best. Sometimes you can do everything right and still get fucked.
That doesn’t mean I can’t fight back. While we try to figure out how to deal with the Russians, I’ll have to remind The Family who’s in charge with a show of force.
First up is Ciro. The wedding is only three weeks away, and he’s going to have a front row fucking seat, but first, I think I’ll give him a preview of what I’m doing to his daughter.
These fuckers will learn what happens when you don’t fall in line. The consequences will be merciless.
