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The Don stiffens, "You knew it and you didn’t do anything about it?"
"He was entitled to do as he pleased."
"Not when he was my son."
"I am not going to stand for you talking shit about him," I growl.
"He’s better off dead. At least, his funeral provides a stage for you to turn up the pressure on our rival clans. Now is the time for you to act, to take assertive action that will allow you to consolidate this hold over our rivals, to increase the influence of the Cosa Nostra, to—"
I throw up my fist and catch him in the jaw. He stumbles back, and the glass slips from his grasp and crashes to the floor. "The fuck?" he growls. "How dare you raise your hand to me?"
"I’ll do more than that." I straighten as the door to my study flies open. Seb rushes in, followed by Massimo, Christian, Luca, and Adrian. They pause when they notice the Don bleeding from his mouth.
He levels his gaze on me. "You are making a big mistake, boy," he murmurs, "you don’t want to make an enemy of me."
"You became my enemy the day you raised your hand to me."
"It was the only way to ensure you grew up to be a man."
"I grew up, all right… To hate you. I don’t want you anywhere near my wife or my brothers."
"They are my sons, too."
I turn to the men. "Choose, then," I snap, "him or me."
They glance at each other, then Seb turns to me, "We’re with youfratellone.You’ve been more than a father to us, more a parent than the Don has ever has been."
My father chuckles. He glances over the faces of the men, then laughs again. "You leave me no choice then."
"Leave, father," I jerk my chin toward the door, "you have your answer."
"You are going to regret this, each one of you."
Seb walks over to the door and holds it open. The Don turns and stalks over to the exit. He pauses, then turns to glare at us, "When you need help, don’t bother coming to me. When you lose everything, including that pretty new wife of yours, you remember that it was I who was behind it."
Turning, he leaves.
The door snicks shut.
"What the fuck?" Christian explodes. "What the hell was that about?"
"He wasn’t very complimentary about Xander," I rub my fingers across the back of my neck, "It was inevitable."
"I mean, what did he mean by that threat?"
"That?" I raise my shoulder, "Who the fuck cares?"
"He’s not one for idle threats, brother,” Massimo cautions.
"Neither am I." I snatch up my glass, drain it, top it up again, then walk over to take my seat behind the desk.
"Out," I jerk my chin at the door, "it’s time to cut this bullshit short."
Ten minutes later, I lean back in my chair as I take in Nikolai and JJ. The silence stretches as none of us speak. Neither JJ nor Nikolai shuffle in their seats nor look uncomfortable. Their faces wear the same expression of patience that I assume my features reflect… At least, I hope it does. I glance between them, then consider my drink.
"Revenge," I finally say, "is a powerful emotion. It can make or break a man. It can galvanize you to do the kinds of things you didn’t think you were capable of."
"And you need revenge," JJ ventures. "Hell, I would too if it were my brother who was killed in an explosion, and my wife who was hurt."
