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“What is it?” I said, a light pounding growing behind my eyes.
Everyone else cowered before the great Lorenzo Costa. But not me. Maybe that made me braver than most.
Or crazier.
“Maria Luca’s dead,” he said matter-of-factly. “Murdered in her home.”
I paused.
Had my father somehow known about Isabella? Did he have the matriarch of the Luca family killed in retaliation?
“When?” I asked, squeezing my eyes shut against the pressure mounting behind them.
“Two days ago. Word is it was the Novas’ doing.”
My father was many things, but a liar wasn’t one of them.
“That’s terrible news,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.
“The funeral is in two days. I’d like you to attend with the rest of the family.”
“I don’t see why that would be necessary.”
I’d attended enough funerals to last a guy several lifetimes over. Why would I want to go play nice with a bunch of crying strangers? Strangers who I couldn’t rule out had been inciting a war with my family.
My father cleared his throat—the first sign he was getting agitated. Lorenzo Costa did not like to be told no. “Vincent Luca was real sweet on his wife, son. He’s going to be weak. Vulnerable. Now’s the time to make our move.”
This night just kept getting better and better. “So, you want me to play nice with the Lucas while we plot to take down their empire?”
Didn’t we have enough on our plate at the moment? It wasn’t that the families and cartels in the country had ever played nice, but there was less respect these days. Constant battles over territory. Families stabbing each other in the back. The Lucas were one of the few families that my family—if not trusted—then respected, which made it even stranger that the Lucas were behind Aunt Isabella’s murder.
“We have always been interested in what the Lucas could offer us,” my father prattled on. “You know that, Nico. If events had gone as planned—”
“I would have been hitched to some spoiled little bitch, and you would have had your hands deep in the Lucas’ pockets,” I finished for him. “I get it. But you’re not talking about making deals with the Lucas; you’re talking about stabbing them in the back.”
It didn’t escape my notice that if I was wrong about Aunt Isabella, that was precisely what the Lucas were doing to us.
“What. I’m. Talking. About”—There it was, stage two of Lorenzo Costa’s descent into his infamous rage blackouts—“is the opportunity to ensure we stay on top. That is what weallwant, isn’t it, son?”
There was no sense in fighting it. What my father wanted, he got, one way or another.
“Fine, I’ll be there with bells on.”
“Bells or a noose, take your pick.”
If it sounded like my father was kidding, he wasn’t. Nobody defied Lorenzo Costa, though a noose wasn’t really his style. Having his son tear a man apart, piece by piece… now, that was something Lorenzo enjoyed.
Chapter Four
Raven
It had taken me all of two minutes on our silent drive to my dorm from the gym last night to realize that whatever the truth was, Vito was no villain.
A person could only hide their true nature for so long. After more than a decade, I would have seen it.
He’d taken care of me. He’d sat through ballet lessons, art classes, and parent-teacher meetings. Even now that I was miles away in college, he called to check in with me every day. Those weren’t the acts of an evil villain.
Yet I hadn’t said a word to him about anything.
