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"This is what happens when you fuck over a De Rossi," I inform the man in the chair before I trail my knife to his chest, and slowly, ever so torturously, cut into his flesh the D, and the R of my last name. Pride at my handiwork courses through me when I straighten. I'm about to head into a meeting with my soldiers, with the Capos who work for me, and I'll be splattered with the blood of the man who murdered our leader.
"Clean this up," I order as I wipe my blade on the material of his discarded shirt. I turn to find Mario watching me intently. He's not at all bothered at what I just did. It's not the first man I've killed, and it won't be the last. "Let's go."
He follows behind me silently, but the thoughts racing through his mind are loud and clear. His brother wants to walk into this life. He wants a part of the violence and bloodshed, but I have feeling he's only doing it because he wants to be near Mario.
Once I'm in the back of the car, Mario starts the engine, and pulls out of the lot. He doesn't say anything until we're on the road. "I don't want him to live this life."
"I know." I can't deny, if I had a young brother who wanted this, I would also fight him tooth and nail, but there comes a time in everyone's life where they must make their own choices. You can't be guided forever. At some point, we’ve all got to grow up, we have to become our own person. "But he is over eighteen."
"And by the time we were that age, we both had been in this life for far too fucking long," Mario throws back, the truth hitting me in the gut. For a long moment, I wonder if Luna has seen what I have. She's grown up with a father who was a Boss. She was surrounded by soldiers and Capos since she was a baby. Is that why she's so blasé about me? As if I'm not scary enough for her.
"She's stronger than you think she is," Mario says, snapping me out of my reverie long enough to chuckle at my shocked expression. "She's getting to you, Boss," he tells me. "And for some reason, I quite like it."
"Why? Because you think I'm going to suddenly fall in love with her?" I challenge, frustration ebbing through me, a river of annoyance at my best friend. I don't want him to see how much she affects me, but I'm already distracted. I've never allowed anything to detract me from the job, but with Luna, I'm not myself.
"Because it's nice to see my best friend is human."
I can't respond. There are no words to throw back at him—not in anger, not in frustration, and most certainly not in agreement. The last time I was human was when I was twelve. A child, nothing more than an innocent where I believed my father was a good man and that happiness would follow me forever.
That ended quickly.
Not long after, I realized life, this life, is nothing more than a fight for survival. If you don't make them fear you, you'll end up dead. And I don't want to die. No matter how much my life may feel heavy. It doesn't matter how much sorrow and heartbreak I endure. I won't give up. I will not let the enemy win.
At least my father left me with one good thing—my strength.
"Being human means that you have flaws," I inform Mario with my focus on the passing lights that skitter by. I wanted an early meeting, but as the darkness descends, I feel more at peace.
"Oh, you have flaws, Boss," Mario tells me with a chuckle. "We all do. That's why we're alive. You cannot live without the bastards." The amusement in his tone has the corners of my mouth tipping upward, but I keep my face turned so he can't see I'm smiling.
"Do you think he would be happy with this?" I ask quietly, my mind wandering to my father. He was a master at being a leader. He knew what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. Deep down, my doubt settles like a lead weight in my gut. I don't believe I can live up to his name, even though we share blood.
"Of course," Mario says finally. "You were always going to be here, sitting at the head of the table." The confidence in his tone has me finally turning to glance at him in the rear-view mirror. "There is no doubt in anyone's mine that you're the right man to step up to the plate."
He may think that. Others may think that, but I doubt it. Yes, I was always next in line, but only by blood. I worked for years as the Familia's fixer, making sure that those who didn't pay, those who went against our code, and those who stole from us pay in blood. And as much as I know my father was happy with my work, there was always this niggling in the back of my mind that I just didn't come up to par with what he wanted.
