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CHAPTER17
“It is not possible to achieve by vigilance in anger and revenge what the soul is longing for. The soul longs for peace.”
—James A. Forbes
Valentin
My mother enjoyed reciting quotes, often angering my father. While most were passages from the Bible, those she’d gleaned from her father had always stood out to me the most. As I eased from my Mercedes, I took a deep breath and glanced at the early morning sky. Strings of color crisscrossed the golden hue, erasing the burnt umber of only a few seconds before.
The colors and the few wispy clouds were far too similar to another tragic day. It would seem karma was playing games with me.
As I started walking, I thought about the conversations I’d had over the last several hours, the sleepless night fueled by rage and concern for the woman I adored.
My father had believed that the act of seeking revenge was a birthright. That’s what my brothers and I had been taught at an early age. Perhaps given the noble cause that had been passed down to him from my grandfather, I’d learned more about his character than through every accomplishment and act of retaliation.
He’d allowed me into his private world over the last few hours, attempting to help me understand decisions he’d made, including the one he made involving my sister. While I would never accept his reasoning, I’d begun to see the reasons why he’d chosen to accept peaceful terms instead of those deemed bloody.
For the family.
I’d always thought family came second to such a powerful man. During the last twenty-four hours, I realized I was wrong. He’d even taken the time to provide some thoughts on how to handle the situation with Casimine, including where to hide another weapon. It was the same conversation he’d had with me on the day I turned twelve, one of my birthday presents a Glock. He’d taught me how to use the weapon, ensuring that I understood every safety measure and precaution, never taking the power of the piece of steel I had in my hand for granted.
As I’d listened to the same sermon, I realized how much emotion there was behind his words and gravelly tone.
He was terrified I’d lose my life on this day.
I’d faced much worse over the years, ambushes and explosions that by all rights should have killed me long ago. However, he knew this time it was personal and when something got personal, people became careless.
I had no intention of allowing that to happen today or any other day for that matter.
What my father had endured as a young man was treacherous, turning him into the monster I’d always known him to be. In turn, I was a direct reflection of his tutelage.
If there was any time death could come with honor in my world, it was this one. My one chance for atonement.
I was aware of not only the presence of my soldiers and the Bratva, but at least a dozen of Casimine’s men. While the deal made would be honored at first, there were too many chances for mistakes, testosterone taking over. I knew the park well enough and had certain vehicles placed in different locations in order to get the child to safety. Brando had been tasked with taking the lead on it. If the fucker let me down, so help me God.
Her release would be a demand that Casimine wouldn’t ignore, or the bloodbath would begin. I’d have no other choice in order to protect the life of the child.
I headed toward where the cannons from the war of eighteen twelve were placed, the location Casimine’s choice. I almost laughed at the thought. Perhaps this was his way of continuing the war between our families. What I couldn’t understand is how he thought he could win.
I moved toward the sign, scanning the area. There was no way of knowing whether Casimine had brought Molly with him or if she was even alive. I refused to think about the possibility but had already told my family what they could expect if that was the case.
The city would be ripped to shreds.
The only noise was the birds chirping in the morning sun, but I sensed his presence and snarled. Within seconds, I heard another sound, one that forced my muscles to tense.
A child’s voice.
Her hand was in his, her small skips indicating she understood the level of danger she was in. While he had a smile on his face, I could smell his anger from where I was standing.
“Allow the girl to go. You have what you want.”
“I’m not certain I can do that.”
I turned around, holding my hands in the air. “As you can see, I’m not armed.”
Casimine laughed, his hand still placed tightly around Molly’s. “And we both know you have men positioned everywhere, many crafted marksmen.”
“I would suggest we both have our soldiers in position but that the last thing we want is to start a war that would only end in additional tragedies.”
