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Tommy was close with my father and became his underboss as well as his executioner before Zac was even born. He was deeply involved the in the Mafioso and was given a young wife, much like my father had been, as a gift for his servitude. Isaac’s mother was a sweet, gentle woman, and because of that, she couldn’t handle the lifestyle. She ran away when Zac was three, though we all know, she likely never made it very far.
Shortly after that, Tommy remarried a woman named, Arely. She was the daughter of a notable Irish mobster and was meant as a gift to bridge the gap between the two warring families. It worked, for a time. However, Arely suffered from severe mental illnesses which only grew worse after her affair. An affair that resulted in Eli. She tried to pass him off as Tommy’s son and Zac’s half-brother, but it didn’t take long to find out that Eli was pure Irish and not Irish Italian.
Tommy found Arely’s lover and tortured him in front of her. The doctors said her mind fractured that day and Tommy being the sadistic fuck he is, chose to allow her to live out her days, broken beyond repair, raising his bastard son without assistance. It was a penance for both mother and child. She ultimately killed herself, leaving Eli and Zac alone with Tommy until finally, he too died. The boys suffered immensely in that house, especially after their feelings for one another became difficult to hide.
But in our world, nothing goes untouched,untainted.That includes one’s soul. I’m pretty sure I lost mine that day I took my cousin’s life.
After that week I had spent in the dungeon, my father tried to chip away at everything that makes me,me.Every piece of my humanity, my autonomy, my morals. The only reason I survived, the only reason I’m still a semi-functioning human and not a mindless, killing machine, is because of them. Isaac and Eli. They are more than my best friends, more than family, especially in a world where blood ties mean both everything and absolutely nothing. They are the other pieces of me.
Where my soul is lacking, theirs fill me up, keep me grounded and present, and quite frankly, breathing. Without them here to remind me what life is, I would have ended mine a long fucking time ago.
There is a reason we call ourselves The Trichotomy. Long before we allowed ourselves to truly belong to the Cosa Nostra, we were nothing but three survivors. Three parts of a whole. One entity, split into three pieces. We move as one, operate as one. Like a well-oiled machine, all three of us are necessary to work properly.
Hatred, abuse, and devastation cultivated the men we are today, but those same things are what drew us together, forcing us into an inexplicable, unbreakable bond.
The door opening and slamming shut pulls me from my morose thoughts. I sigh heavily without opening my eyes or making any move to acknowledge his presence, but I already know which one of them it is: Isaac. No doubt Eli would still be inside crying over Violet or trying to kill the guys she's with. I swear to God he's obsessed with the girl. It's completely ridiculous.
"So," Zac drawls, proving me correct in my assumption. "Are we going to talk about it or just continue to pretend nothing is happening?"
Not even bothering to open my eyes, I respond, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Zac huffs a laugh, the sound of leather crunching telling me he's settling deeper into his seat. Or pulling a gun on my insufferable ass. "Right, just like nothing has been happening for the last three months. Just like you haven't been an unbearable prick to be around since that nig—"
That gets my attention. My eyes fly open and land on him with a glare that would make a weaker man cower. "It has nothing to do with that night," I hiss, completely annoyed that we arestilltalking about this shit.
Utterly unfazed, he rolls his eyes before continuing. "No, you're right, Renz. It has absolutely nothing to do with that night orthatgirl," he deadpans, pointing his long finger at the window, toward the club. "It has nothing to do with the fact that you found a small piece of solace amongst the never-ending shit storm that is your life. It hasnothingto do with the woman who enraptured the remnants of your blackened soul. It has nothing to do with the fact that after everything your fath—"
"Do not,"I snap, though it comes out more like a growl, making his eyes widen marginally. "Do not bring him up."
"Oh no? You don't want me to bring up the piece of shit that had a hand in creating you? No, I don't mean by providing his sperm."
"Seriously, Isaac, stop. I'm not in the fucking mood." Not for the first time, I wish I still smoked. It's a dreadful habit, absolutely disgusting, but in times like this, it's necessary. Necessary in preventing me from murdering one of my best friends.
He stares at me for a moment, his eyes seeing far too much. It makes my skin crawl. I both love and hate my cousin in equal measure. I love him because he is more than family; he's one of my only friends. My confidant, my second in line, my partner in all of this mafia bullshit. I know he has my back and would do damn near anything for me, including, but not limited to, saving my life, even if it meant giving his in return. I know this. I understand this. Yet, the way that he's able to dissect me with only a glance, unnerves me and has me wanting to kill the bastard.
It's because of that ability, the one that sees far more than anyone should be able to, that I already know what he's going to say before he says it. And try as I might, there is not a damn thing I can do to protect myself from the truth I know he's about to hurl my way.
"Look, Renz. I'm going to be straight with you because quite frankly, we don't have time to beat around the bush here. As you know, we have far too much going on in our lives right now to be dealing with your repressed emotions and perpetual denial. You caught feelings for Violet that night. You like her, a lot." I open my mouth to dispute this garbage, but Zac quickly shakes his head and continues.
"No. As I said, no time." Giving me a knowing look, he continues, "and because of thosefeelings, you are clouded. Your judgment, your emotions, your head. We should not have come out tonight and you know it. We shouldnothave risked your safety over this petty shit. If you want her, take her. If you don't, let it the fuck go because I am telling you right now, we do not have the time, the manpower, or the ability to protect ourselves and win this war if we're divided. And I will befuckedif we lose over a girl."
Thinking he's won and knowing I won't respond to any of that, he smirks and turns around to face the window, giving me his back. That alone shows his confidence in our bond. The fact that he feels safe enough to not only throw those words in my face, damn near threatening me but to then turn his back on me. He either trusts me implicitly, or he's just a plain fool. Luckily for him, his words gave me enough pause to not stab the motherfucker right here and now.
Wouldn't be the first time.
I said we were best friends, not lovers, and we have undoubtedly thrown not only fits but knives and even the rare bullets when we've fought. All three of us have. I assume it has something to do with the way we were raised. Ruthless, destructive, and brutal. There is no room for softness in theMafioso.Softness equals weakness and weakness gets you killed. Therefore, all softness was either beaten or threatened out of us all at a young age, Eli included.
Though I can't say we didn't hold on to a bit of it, clearly, as made obvious by our relationship. People in our line of work don't have relationships or friendships because those can also get you killed. They create targets, and weak points to attack. Maybe we don't necessarily have a softness for each other, more so a mutual understanding.
The door opens once more, forcing Zac to slide into the middle seat so that Eli can get in. We have larger SUV's with duel back rows that face each other but this one is smaller and more discrete than the huge, blacked-out vehicles we usually travel in. In fact, normally, I'd be driving our cars. The control freak in me demands it. But with the constant threat hanging over our heads, the guys insisted that I not be in such a vulnerable spot when we travel and it's a fight that I, unfortunately, did not win.
Once everyone's tucked away, the driver glances back at me with a silent question. Giving him a small tip of my chin, he turns around and sets us in the direction of our penthouse, affectionally referred to asThe Tower.I could scoff at the name. It's a place that I despise and yet it's another battle that I lost but have no energy to argue about anymore. Zac, Eli, and our very small team of trusted security insisted that the safety offered by The Tower was essential.
In the beginning, I heavily disagreed, and by that, I mean it was basically an all-out brawl. After spending my entire life being kept under my father's thumb, the last thing I ever wanted when he died was to continue that lifestyle. I never wanted to cower or hide away. It's not in my nature. But after the first month of dodging near-constant attacks, one of which almost cost Zac his life, I gave up the argument and we moved.
That doesn't mean I agree with the way we now live, nor do I enjoy it, but I will be fucked if my position in the Cosa Nostra will cost either of my friends their lives.
We make it halfway back to the penthouse before the stifling silence damn near chokes me. "Nothing to say, Eli?"
