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“Dante—” Steven started then stopped himself. “Look, just be on your best behavior, okay?”
“Always am,” Dante said.
I sat in the back in silence and stared out the window as the city flashed past. The drive wasn’t long since the bakery was close by, and Steven parked out front in front of a yellow curb. I considered saying something, but didn’t bother.
These guys, they owned the city. A little yellow curb wouldn’t stop them from parking wherever the fuck they want.
I got out and followed them into the bakery. I breathed deep as the smell of fresh bread hit me. It looked just like it always did, and as soon as we stepped in, Dante began taking the chairs down.
Steven helped him, so I went around behind the counter and started prepping for the morning, moving almost on autopilot. It felt good opening the bakery again, and I hoped that I’d get to spend more time here once Vlas was caught and taken care of.
Sergio came out from the back a few minutes later and began filling up bread baskets. “You know, I retired from the fucking family,” he said to Dante. “I don’t recall agreeing to any fucking mafia meetings in my bakery.”
“So you want us to go somewhere else?” Dante asked.
Sergio hesitated and shook his head. “Fuck it.”
Dante laughed as Sergio disappeared into the back again. Steven made a coffee and sat in the far corner. We finished prepping for open just a couple minutes before the front door opened, and Don Leone himself stepped inside, followed by Roberto. The door swung shut behind the pair and Don Leone beamed around the room.
“Looks good in here,” he said.
“Don, thank you for coming,” Dante said. “Please, come, take a seat. Would you like something to eat? Aida makes some very good coffee.”
“Coffee would be nice,” Don Leone said. “Thank you, Aida, dear.”
I nodded and got to work on his espresso. Roberto walked over and sat down with Steven, who gave him a little nod and a salute. Roberto nodded back, took a spare newspaper from a nearby bench, and started reading it. The two men ignored each other and seemed to pretend like nothing else was happening.
I finished the coffee and brought it over to Don Leone as Dante sat down and settled himself. I sat down at the table next to theirs, but still close enough to be a part of the conversation.
“I have to admit,” Don Leone said, “I’m not used to seeing a Capo so many times in just a few days.”
“I know, Don,” Dante said. “But this is important.”
“I heard about what happened.” Don Leone frowned and bowed his head. “My deepest condolences. I know Gino was a good soldier.”
“And a good friend,” Dante said.
“Vlas went too far.” Don Leone sipped the coffee and seemed pleased. “He went much too far. I understand you hit him and killed his men, but you did it on fair ground at least. He attacked you in your home like a rat.”
“I agree, Don,” Dante said. “I’m asking your permission to find him and end him.”
Don Leone leaned back and seemed to consider it for a moment. “Let me ask you something, Dante,” Don Leone said. “If you had a son, and someone killed your son, would you ever let that go?”
Dante’s face tensed. “No, Don. I wouldn’t.”
“You would burn this city down to avenge your child, no?”
Dante nodded. “I would.”
“So let me ask you another question.” Don Leone leaned toward Dante. “Do you want Maksim to burn this city down? Because that’s what’ll happen if you kill his child.”
Dante took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “He deserves it,” he said.
“I don’t care,” Don Leone said. “You can’t kill Vlas Volkov.”
“But he—” Dante said then stopped himself. He clenched his hands into fists and put them on the table, leaning forward.
The pain on his face broke my heart. I knew he blamed himself for Gino’s death and I knew it was eating him up. He wanted nothing more than to ride out through the city, find Vlas, and kill the man slowly. I couldn’t blame him, because I felt the same way.
If it weren’t for me, Gino wouldn’t have been in that house. None of this would have happened at all. It was my fault just as much as it was Dante’s or anyone else’s. He didn’t need to suffer like this, but I knew there was nothing I could do to help him. He wouldn’t let me take the blame, even if I begged him, even if I genuinely convinced him that it really was my fault.
He’d protect me even from that.
Don Leone put his hand flat on the table, inches away from Dante’s. He leaned forward and spoke in a low, measured voice.
“Dante, you can’t kill Vlas,” Don Leone said. “But you can take everything from him.”
