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I don’t doubt it for a second.
We pull up, keeping low.
Rocco made sure we all put bulletproof vests on.
“Where is Marco and Dante?” I whisper-shout.
“Not far behind,” Angelo replies, his gun drawn as we proceed toward the church doors.
It’s eerily quiet.
All I can see is my woman terrified, struggling to understand any of this, while every second that passes makes me want to go running in there, guns blazing.
Angelo is right, we need to be smart about this.
“The soldiers have you covered,” Rocco says, signaling to move forward as he and Dom flank us with rifles. Darko stays in front.
A second later, a gunshot narrowly misses us and ricochets off the church door.
We all duck as gunfire rings out behind us, and Rocco and Dom turn and fire.
Our men are in place.
“Inside!” Rocco barks. “Now!” He covers us as we dive inside.
The door creaks and the scent of old bricks and moss hit me square in the face.
This place is fucking old and in dire need of a revamp.
We move amongst the pews and past the altar, Darko leading the way with Rocco and Dom behind.
The short corridor behind leads to an expansive glass room, the entire thing overgrown with ivy, and the wood decking is in dire need of repair. In another lifetime, it would have been ethereal, beautiful even, but now it just looks rundown and sad.
Just as we move inside, I see a flash in one corner. I turn and fire, shooting the soldier once, twice, then he drops his gun and falls to the ground.
Angelo looks at me sideways. “Nice shooting.”
“You taught me well.”
Then we hear clapping.
Roberto.
He walks toward us, flanked by several men pointing guns at us.
Jesus fuck.
“Bravo, Fynn,” he says, coming to a stop mid-way across the open space. “I guess your older brother did teach you something useful after all.”
“Fuck you, Roberto. What the fuck are you doing? I thought we buried you years ago,” I fire back.
“All in good time.” He smirks. “And time is something I’ve had plenty of over the years. I was just telling young Sage how much I detested my father and Angelo’s relationship growing up, how dear old Mario always put me last and Angelo on a pedestal. I suppose you could say that it has something to do with that.”
Angelo starts to laugh. “You did all of this because you were jealous?” He laughs harder.
I’ve got to hand it to my brother, he’s got nerves of steel. “For fuck’s sake, Roberto, are you really that insecure, or are you just fucking crazy? Because I can’t quite make out the difference.”
He shakes his head. “You never did quite see beyond your own nose, did you, Angelo?” He doesn’t look like the Roberto I remember, not that I was terribly close to him. I was closer to Uncle Mario. He looked after us.
