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I used to think that she'd be my destruction, but now I know she'll be my salvation, even if it means I destroy myself in the process. She’s the purest thing I’ve ever had in my life, and I’ll drag the world to hell before I ever give her up.
I’ve made peace with my choices.
She spins around with a laugh and my brother’s face comes into view. Genuine joy highlights his features, and my chest aches at all those lost years between us. The sad realization that though we may share blood, my brother and I feel like strangers. I clear my throat, eager to rid myself of the way my chest hurts when I think about the complicated web that is my relationship with my brother.
I don't have the mental fortitude or the time to dive into that today. My phone vibrates in my pocket before I do more than shuffle forward. With one last look at her, I slip it out of my pocket and head toward the other side of the suite. Whoever’s on the other end doesn’t need to know where I am or who I’m with.
I suppress a groan when I see my father’s name flashing across the screen. I exhale a breath and hit the accept button. “Angelo, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Where are you, Matteo?” Skipping pleasantries isn’t unusual for my father but this tone is reserved for the few moments before he does something violent.
I lock everything inside of me down, hardening my physical appearance and pouring concrete on all my emotions I was just thinking about. “I went out of town for a few days. Did they strike us again even after your warning?”
Manipulating my father was easy when all you had to do was redirect his attention to his accomplishments. He was so goddamn vain.
“No, so far we haven’t heard a peep from anyone. Fucking cowards. Where are you? I need you here for the next family meeting.”
I grit my teeth, anger licking up my calves at his summons. “We just had a family meeting a couple days ago, shouldn’t be due for another one for at least a week.”
The line is quiet, the hair on the back of my neck standing to attention. Even two thousand miles away and through a phone call, Angelo Rossi’s temper is terrifying. I haven’t been afraid of my father for many years, but it’s not just me I have to worry about now. I’ve added someone else to the roster—someone infinitely more precious to me.
“Is there a reason you can’t meet me at the club?”
I work hard to keep all the emotion from my voice. “I’m out of town. I’ll be back in time for the regular meeting.”
“Huh.” He smacks his lips together, and I know I fucked up somehow. It’s his tell when he’s playing someone, baiting them and catching them in a lie.
“Something to say, Angelo?” I force a casualness I don’t feel in my tone. A reminder that I’m not just his son and I’m not some fucking soldier. I’m the goddamn underboss. The position affords me a certain amount of respect from everyone, including him.
“Nah, just wanted to see if you were tied to a chair with a bag over your head.”
My heart just fucking stops, my body rigid. It kickstarts in the next instant and I spin around to face the room behind me. My eyes widen as I stare at the space in front of me without seeing anything, my mind too busy piecing together the events. “Care to elaborate?”
“Do I need to repeat myself? I thought you were smarter than that, Matteo.”
I let his bullshit reprimand slide off my back like it means nothing—because it doesn’t mean shit to me. I clench my jaw tight. Dealing with Angelo’s ego is exhausting on the best of days, but I’m fucking fried already. I dig deep for my well of patience and try again. “Why did you ask me about that specifically?”
“Got a text a little while ago. A photo and the words missing someone with a question mark.”
My chest constricts. I have a feeling I know exactly who’s in that photo, but the fact that he’s asking me tells me he has no idea. I’d like to keep it that way. It’s too much of a gamble to bring him in on this. His ego would go nuclear, rendering him incapable of making the best, rational decision. His rival getting the drop on him and it’s by taking his youngest son? It’d be everyone’s funeral.
No. It’s best I keep him as far away from this as possible. If I didn’t already want to eliminate the assholes who grabbed Leo, I would now just for interfering with this and making my life fucking harder.
“Did you recognize who it was?”
There’s a loud noise, like he slammed his palm against a table. “Do you think I’d fucking call you if I recognized who was in the photo?”
I conditioned myself years ago not to react to his little outbursts, it only fuels his glee. Even though he can’t see me, my reaction is the same. I give him nothing. “So the same person who’s been targeting our business and families snatched someone.”
He sucks on his teeth, the noise sharp in my ear. “That’s my best guess. But they fucked-up, because I don’t give a fuck about who it is.”
“What if it’s one of the heads of the remaining four families?”
“Fuck do I care? Their family’s second will succeed them. It’ll be a lesson to everyone. This is a fucking war, son. There will be casualties.” He disconnects the call a second later.
A fog of black creeps in the sides of my vision at his casual mention of senseless deaths like he’s telling me it’s recycling day tomorrow. Because that’s what they are—senseless, avoidable deaths. It’s not worth bringing up to him. He’d argue that no one is innocent, they chose this life and they have to live with the consequences.
One day soon, Angelo Rossi is going to meet his own consequences. And I look forward to being on the delivering end for the first time.
