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The last time we’d met was on the eve of my sixteenth birthday. I was cocky enough to think I was ready to take on O’Sullivan. He shut me down with two grand in cash, and a missive to grow some hair on my balls before I bothered asking him again.
He won’t be shutting me down today.
“You’ve changed since we last saw each other,” he muses.
“Didn’t have a fucking choice now, did I? It’s called a growth spurt.”
The corners of his mouth lift as he joins me on the side of the bridge. Resting his forearms on the stone balustrade, he stares out at a big wheel and a tall city.
“Busy night?” I gesture at his bloody knuckles.
“Aninterestingnight,” he counters, refusing to elaborate. “Knight treating you well?”
“He’s been good to me,” I admit, staring at the skyline too.
I never wanted a replacement father, and Jacob Knight never forced me to accept him as one. He just gave me a good home, cheap food on the table, and security.
When I reclaim the Lastra throne, I’m planning on giving the Knights their own wing in the palace as a thank you.
“Zaccaria knew it was the best place for you.” There’s a pause. “What’s the son like?”
“Aiden? He’s a pain in the arse,” I say, smothering a grin. “Smart, though. Loyal.” There’s another pause. “I want to see him, Guido.”
“You got a passport?” His easy smile vanishes. “The last time he left Italy was seven years ago.”
“I got a phone and visa issues.”
He grunts. “Seems you grew a mouth on you, too. You done time yet?”
“Suspended sentence. Couple of misdemeanours.”
“I’ll see what I can do… I’m the only eyes and ears Zaccaria has in the city these days—”
“Until I take my father’s place ascapo.”
“If you say so.” He inclines his head out of respect, but it’s a bullshit nod. He’s been getting drunk on the power while I’ve been stuck in the wilderness, and now he’s reluctant to share the bottle.
“Get Zaccaria on the phone,” I order. “I want to speak to him tonight. I’m nineteen. I’m not the same scared kid I was back then. He promised me an army to take on O’Sullivan. He sliced my hand open and made me swear allegiance to The Family, but that vow went both ways…” I hold my palm up to him, the small scar flashing a livid silver in the orange streetlight.
“You’re not ready yet, Francesco,” he says with a sigh.
“Maybe ‘Francesco’ isn’t, but Frankie fucking Lastra is,” I snarl.
“You scam money from cash machines, kid. You think you can take on a mobster like O’Sullivan? Get smarter. Push harder. Upgrade to armed bank robberies or something, and then maybe we’ll talk some more.”
I grind my teeth in frustration. There’s no time for this kind of pacifying, horseshit brush-off.“I’m not here so I can bend over and let you shove your excuses up my arse, Guido. I ain’t leaving this bridge without a guarantee.”
“Frankie, listen—”
“We’ll do it together,” I say, appealing to his ego, as I pull out a pack of cigarettes and slot one between my lips. “You and me.”
There’s another pause. “Why now?”
A dove fluttered her wings and triggered a butterfly effect over London.
“You’re stalling, old man.” Cupping my hands, I bring the lighter to the tip of my smoke, inhaling all my frustrations until my lungs are burning with them. “My patience is running out. I did what he asked of me. I stayed out of sight—”
“You ever killed anyone before?” he interrupts.
