AllFreeNovel
Share Us
One for Cristian.
And who said I don’t like sharing?
What a giving man I am.
After cleaning up, we leave the building, each of us with a bag slung over our shoulder.
“Next stop”—I glance back at Damien—“Seven Seconds.”
“This time, I’m not letting you go in alone,” Damien says, tightening the cap on his water as I park my car down the road from Seven Seconds. “I’m going in with you.”
“No, we had this discussion.” I turn off the ignition. “This is my mess and my responsibility to handle.”
Before I killed Sonny, I had a contract drawn that stated if I died, Damien would assume control of the Lombardi family. He might not have the last name Lombardi, but he’s more of one than anyone else born with it.
As I signed the contract earlier, something dawned on me.
I don’t have a son to carry the Lombardi name.
Neither did Vinny.
Our name will die with me.
I step out of the car and feel the weight of the duffel bag on my shoulder. My steps feel heavy against the concrete as I walk to the club’s back entrance. Earlier, Julian slipped the bouncer a hundred dollars and told him to deliver a message to Cristian that I’d be here.
I adjust the bag’s straps as a light drizzle sprinkles on me. As much as I don’t like giving my enemies a heads-up, I can’t just casually walk into the club. I’d bet Sonny’s limbs that every man on the Marchetti payroll knows they want me dead. If they kill me, I’m a ticket to a promotion.
The steel door swings open the second I reach it, and a tall man stands in front of me. He wipes his hand down his goatee, and his stare is frozen on me. He waits to wave me inside, similar to how Candy did earlier.
My guess is, the motherfucker wanted me to wait in the rain longer.
The door slams behind me, and he searches me for weapons. When he’s done, he presses a gun to my back, shoving me forward, and guides me down a hallway. The space is quiet, not much noise, and every door is shut. When we pass one man, he curls his lips at me in disgust.
I’m brought into a room that reminds me of a car dealership waiting room. On one side, a TV plays some reality show, andalong the wall is a table covered with baked goods and deli sandwiches and a stocked mini fridge.
He motions for me to sit on the black leather couch, but I cross my arms and remain standing. No fucking way am I turning my back on anyone here. He doesn’t say a word before leaving the room.
They named Seven Seconds after Cristian’s rumored death game. Supposedly, he grants his victims seven seconds to escape before killing them. If they succeed, he lets them live. From what I’ve heard, there’s never been a winner.
Fuck, maybe that’s the game I’m about to play tonight.
I check my watch every minute, and ten passes before the man returns.
“They’re ready to see you,” he says with a hint of cautiousness.
They’re.
I’m not dealing with only one Marchetti.
We stop at the same door I entered when I visited Benny after my father’s death and he pretty much told me to get fucked. It opens with a loud click, and as soon as I walk in, it shuts behind me.
The room is deathly quiet, the tension as thick as the list of reasons they want to kill me for. I stole something so precious, something they’d vowed to always protect, and now, they want me to suffer for it. It’s time to live up to the Lombardi name and stay alive.
And also get my wife back.
Gigi is mine. She’ll always be mine.
That won’t change whether I’m breathing or a rotting body in the ground.
