Camillo Vicari
July, 2025
Reggio Calabria, Calabria, Italy
“Cazzo, Camillo...” Filippo Barone rubbed his knuckles over his eyes, bent forward in his chair. I simply brought the bottle of liquirizia to my lips again. “You started a war,gran bel bastardo.”
After coating my throat with the drink again, I grimaced, letting it burn my insides. I let the bottle rest in the empty space between my thighs on the chair and flexed my hands a few times, looking at the bruises that now covered them. “It'll be worth it.” I let out a dry, jagged laugh, the sound of a man watching his own house burn.
Filippo cursed, and his laughter sounded identical to mine. Tired. “You smashed what little was left of thatfiglio di puttana's nose!”
“Ma dai, he was asking for it! Besides, he deserved to have Don Zaccaria's soldati turn him into Swiss cheese, that's what!”
“Va bene. But now you're at war with the Accorinti, the Palumbo, and the Rinaldi.”
I stared at Filippo with raised eyebrows. “Weare, or are we going to pretend you didn't try to strangle Rinaldi?”
Filippo Barone's expression broke into a huge, proud smirk. He reached for the bottle and stole it from me, drinking with satisfaction.
After grimacing, he pointed, “When he brought up that thirteen-year-old girl... I promised myself I'd kill him.” He confessed, taking another sip.
“I share that sentiment.”
We sat in silence, facing each other in the two chairs left in the room. The rest of the space had been destroyed in the fight. I sighed. I lost my mind. Because of an American woman, a hostage, a woman who sooner or later would taste the gunpowder of my bullets, I wrenched myself away from the men trying to hold me back and jumped on Cissio Accorinti.
I beat that hideous face until it was unrecognizable and his nose was in a pool of blood. If Rinaldi and Palumbo hadn't thrown themselves at me, Accorinti would have been a dead man.
I raised a hand and brought it to my face, groaning as my fingers found an open wound on my eyebrow. Antonio Palumbo knew how to throw a punch. Themaledettohad thrown himself at me the same way I had thrown myself at Accorinti: to kill.He gave me quite a fight, but neither of us went down, and it was Don Zaccaria's men who separated us. When Rinaldi decided that helping Palumbo and making it two against one was sensible, Barone threw himself in, and moments later I saw that filthy pig kicking on the ground, bawling for his men.
“Don Zaccaria is still a tough nut to crack.” I groaned, remembering how the old man had not only forbidden other soldati from entering the restaurant to avoid a bloodbath, but had also grabbed his cane to chase Palumbo, Accorinti, and Rinaldi out of there, promising them there would be blood if they dared to shoot at any of us.
“I never thought that at forty we would be reprimanded with a cane, my friend.” Both Filippo and I burst out laughing. Don Zaccaria was not satisfied and ended up beating us with his silver cane. And instead of acting like the Capibastone we were, we knelt on the floor in front of the old man and let him whip our backs. “But tell me, now that we're alone, who is this American woman?”
The most fascinating thing ever.
“Someone who saw too much on my last trip to the United States,” I murmured with a tightness in my chest.
“Uh. And you brought her with you to...” Filippo made a cutting gesture with his hand near his neck.
“Sì. To execute her when the time is right.”
Again, silence. This time, Filippo Barone narrowed his pitch-black eyes at me, his brow furrowed as if he was facing the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.
“I was there, Camillo,” he murmured. “I was there at your wedding. I saw how you looked at Valentina. That look, my friend, is back, but… stronger. More alive.”
“Daisy isn’t Valentina.” I snapped, the comparison offending me for several reasons. “She’s just a problem, nothing more.”
“Daisy, huh?” There was a mischievous smile on Filippo’s face. “You’re screwing her, aren’t you?”
I rubbed my hands over my face. “Leave me alone, you idiot.”
Filippo laughed. “Camillo, I know you as well as any of my siblings, maybe better.” He reminded me, and I avoided his gaze. “You lost your temper as soon as he mentioned her.”
I stood up, putting my hands on my hips, and sighed loudly. “I intend to get her out of my system before the time comes for her execution.”
“In other words, fuck her.”
“Cazzo, Filippo! Sì!”
