Don Mancini walked straight up to me, a couple inches shorter than I was but with the aura of a powerful man who could get shit done. He wasn’t brutal like Don Russo and other men I worked for in the past, but he wasn’t meek either. He walked up to me and stared me down for what felt like a solid minute.
I stared back, welcoming the surge of adrenaline like an old friend. Danger was comfort. Fear was excitement. I was twisted and backward and simply strange.
“Come with me.” He stepped forward and drew close, giving me a pat on the shoulder along the way.
The rest of the guys moved to the table that was placed there. Wooden sticks were lying there.
Where the hell was this going?
When they grabbed them and lit the tips with their lighters, I realized they were torches, their bright fire immediately lighting up the surrounding area. The flames flickered and danced, and they all faced me and waited for me to follow Don Mancini.
I turned my back to them and saw Don Mancini standing there waiting for me to join him. I came to his side, and he continued forward, walking down the dirt road between the buildings farther out toward the vineyards and olive trees on the property.
Don Mancini didn’t say a word, our surroundings lit by the torches as he moved forward.
I began to understand our destination, the enormous oak tree where I’d hung our enemies and let their blood stain the ground when I slaughtered them.
The guys made a circle around the tree, the light illuminating the branches and the leaves, casting shadows upward toward thedark sky and highlighting all the details of the massive trunk and the roots that made the ground uneven at the base.
Don Mancini stared at the thick base of the tree for a long moment before he turned to me. “This tree has been here for five hundred years. I had a botanist come out and date it for me about ten years ago.”
I shifted my gaze to the tree and examined the bark, noticing the carvings there for the first time. There were initials carved into the bark and deep penetrations from a knife, like someone, or several someones, had stabbed their blades throughout the years.
“Everyone who’s been in this family has left their mark on this mighty oak.” He moved forward and traced his fingers over initials that read G.M. “My father Gianni.” He moved to another part of the tree. “My uncle Renato.” He went across the tree and pointed out the initials and shared who they were. “This one is Dario Mancini…my great-great-grandfather and the man who I believe started this organization when people used horses instead of cars, who started a criminal organization without phones or the internet.” He removed his hand and stepped back, looking at all the names. “My son’s mark is here…my mark is here. And everyone who’s bled for this family is here, all those who became one of us, who became part of the family.” He examined the trunk a moment longer before he turned to look at me. “I distrusted your Cosa Nostra roots in the beginning, but you were one of us the second you set foot on my land. It just took a while for me to see that. You’ve bled for us. You’ve protected us. You’ve served this family like it’s your own—and tonight, I’d like to make that official. Welcome to the Tanto Syndicate.”
I wasn’t an emotional guy, but the surprising gesture caught me in the headlights. I’d been accepted in Cosa Nostra from birth, felt like I belonged there without a hint of doubt. But then they all turned their backs on me within the snap of a finger. I chose the Mancini family because I respected their ethics and found their underdog status endearing. But the real reason I busted my ass for this family was for one person.
Francesca Mancini.
Every day, I worked to earn her. Worked for her father’s favor and her brother’s approval. Became the most irreplaceable guy on the crew so Don Mancini would know how well I could care for his daughter if he were to give her to me.
And with that thought, the waves of guilt rushed over me and nearly made me drown.
I should have told him sooner.
Now I was fucked.
Don Mancini reached for his knife at his belt. Pulled it out of the sheath and extended it to me, holding it by the tip of the blade. “One of us.”
In unison, all the men around the tree said, “One of us.”
I stared at the extended hilt for a heavy moment before I grabbed it, waiting for him to let go before I pulled it close. It was an old knife, dull from carving into the tree for generations, made from an old wood that was nearly rotten.
I took a breath as I stared at the gray trunk of the old tree, about to desecrate it with a name that didn’t deserve to be there. I’d betrayed Don Mancini by not telling him about Francescasooner, and I was tempted to tell him now, even if it led to my flesh being carved instead of the tree.
But I didn’t.
I approached the tree and started to carve my initials. The knife was old and dull, so it was hard to make the mark into a trunk that had been here long before me and would be here long after me. But I managed to cut into the bark enough to make the initials permanent.
Don Mancini stared at what I carved. “C.B.” His eyes flicked to me and silently asked for clarification.
Wolfe was a name that Cosa Nostra had somewhat affectionately given to me. I hunted down all our enemies until every single one was dead. Even when they surrendered and pleaded for mercy, I still came for them. When they successfully left Sicily and made it to America or Hong Kong or wherever the fuck they ran to hide, I hunted them there too. There was only one way to escape—and that was death by my hand. I hadn’t used my real name in a long time, so long that most people who’d ever known it had probably forgotten it by now. “Cesare Barsetti.”
It was late when I walked in the door.
Francesca was waiting for me on the couch in the living room, wearing an outfit of my clothes, a shirt five sizes too big and sweatpants she had to roll at least five times so she wouldn’t trip on the pant leg. Even when she was completely dressed like a man, she was irresistible to me.
Her eyes were sleepy when she got up to greet me, so she must have fallen asleep on the couch while she’d waited for me. After the ceremony at the tree, we’d returned to the terrace and had rounds of drinks and cigars to celebrate my initiation into the family. Once the formality had been completed, the guys were themselves once more. That went on for hours, so it was almost midnight now. “Everything alright?” she asked as she walked up to me.
