Page 78 of Wrong Pawn. Right Capo.

“Yes, Father,” he smiles derisively. “You could call me the mayor’s… hidden son. And the man who handles the things his clean hands cannot. Things… like you.”

His voice is feral, but I don't miss the slight shift in it when he calls himself the mayor’s son. Hesitation?

Another piece of wood spirals toward me and I dodge, immediately sending a bullet of my own. The shot resounds through the confined space as the bastard tries to jump for cover behind a small, rickety table, but the bullet still pierces his shoulder.

“So the mayor has a bastard.”

He roars at the statement, throwing another piece of wood. I easily dodge it again, but I don’t lower my gun.

“I never liked you. Fuck. You’ve caused so much trouble,” he groans from behind the table, which is now turned on its side. “I wonder why Father didn’t kill you when he found out you survived.”

I cock my gun, slowly moving through the dining area, my boot crunching on the dirt floor and loose ash. “Keep talking. Why did the mayor need the mafia to hide his illegitimate son?” I hiss. He releases a long dry cackle that burns the anger in my chest.

“Because he was strategic. More strategic than you would think.”

“I don’t like riddles, Caughn.” An impatient growl rips from my throat as I stop a few feet from the table.

“You see, Father knew you’d seek revenge and eventually find every single person involved in your family’s massacre, so he left you.” His voice is strained but laced with contempt. “He knew you were a bloodhound with a grudge, so he left you to do what he’d have done anyway.”

The words gut me, my fingers almost clenching around the trigger. They knew I’d seek revenge… which means they’d been watching me. Every move… every fucking action.

“What the fuck would he have done anyway?”

“Everything you’ve done.” He chuckles darkly.

My thumb clicks against the trigger, and I fire another shot above his head into the wall beside him. He sneers, his voice growing thick.

“Five years ago, the mayor wanted to run for a second term, but his opponents… they weren’t playing nice. They’d dug deep… found out about me—his illegitimate son and killing machine. They were going to take me, make me confess to his bad deeds, and ruin his chance at a second term.”

He takes a ragged breath. “He couldn’t trust the police. Half of them were probably on his opponents’ payroll. He needed a black hole. A place where privileged investigators wouldn’t dare to look. Commissioner Paulsen suggested the mafia association. Three small, powerful, paranoid families who could make a person vanish better than any federal program. Who would ever think the moralizing mayor would stoop to consort with criminals?”

“And my father said no.”

“Your father was smart… too smart for his own good. He started asking questions, and that shit pissed my father off. So, Father and Paulsen... they manufactured evidence. Told Valente your dad was about to flip and bring down the whole association.”

He continues with a smirk, “Valente, the greedy fool, took it to Dean Rossi. Your family was simply collateral damage. And now, you’ve… you've gone on a revenge mission, taking down almost everyone involved in the deal.”

Rage, cold and pure, fills my veins, but I manage to cage it.

“And the frame-up? The prosecutor?” I ask, though already piecing it together. Having killed all the people involved in the deal, I’m one of the last links to the secret he wants to eradicate.

“That bastard’s been getting really close to Paulsen’s death case. He needed to go. Plus, the mayor is running for governor now. A high-profile conviction of a notorious mafia don would boost his chances and win over the masses.” He grunts from the pain of his wound. “He’s tying up all his loose ends. The ex-commissioner is dead. Valente is dead. And you... you’re the final, spectacular piece of theater.”

My breath hitches. “And Enzo?”

“He plans to use Enzo as a political spectacle. You already did most of the work for us. Weakened them, and now Father will swoop in, expose the crime family and secure even more political leverage.”

I hiss, my blood boiling. Four years of planning. Four years of calculated movement. Four years of grief, rage…all to land in a web of someone else’s deceit and ambition?

“So the mayor killed everyone, and left me living, knowing full well that I’d do his dirty deeds for him, and then be a scapegoat in a political campaign?”

“Yes, it was his plan all along. Get the mafia association to save me, and kill all involved when the time is right. He’d have let you kill Valente and the ex-police commissioner. But they started to betray him and he had to act fast.”

“Why the fuck did he wait four years to do all of this?”

“He was still benefiting from the arrangement between him, ex-commissioner Paulsen, and Valente. Killing Enzo would have scared both of them out of the arrangement. He’s only acting now because there’s a need—you as the scapegoat. And the deal with the other parties involved no longer serves him either. Your father was the only immediate threat… and he was cut out as soon as my father felt threatened.”

My jaw clenches, and I want nothing more than to blow his fucking brains out. The realization that my family… my mother had to die because of some fucking political play makes me want to unleash the beast in me.