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“Fuck you, Ludovico! Fuck you too, Luca! And to hell with you, Flavio! You think you’re tough shit as the Boss’ sons? It’s time for the Lucchese rule to end! It may not be me. But someone will take you out! End your fucking line for good!”
Renzo glares through blackened eyes as he kneels before my older brothers. Bloody spittle lands on Ludovico’s shiny patent leather dress shoes. His face remains impassive as he holds one of his Heckler & Kochs to Renzo’s forehead.
Around them—also on their knees—Niccolò, his two younger sons, and his top soldiers glare with eyes full of hatred. Luca, Flavio, and some of our soldiers train their guns on them.
In search of my parents and sisters, Gemma and Allegra, my gaze roves over those remaining in the ballroom. The Lombardi women—except from Giada—huddle in a corner surrounded by more of our soldiers. Other capos and their soldiers stand to the side. But no sign of the rest of my family. My heart lurches in my chest as I run to my brothers’ sides.
I aim my guns at Niccolò. He spits at my feet. I don’t flinch. But my fingers itch on the twin triggers.
“It won’t be you.”
The crack of the gun as it discharges a bullet into Renzo’s skull reverberates around the ballroom. His head snaps back at the force as a hole appears between his eyes. Another crack signals the shot to his heart. Women scream.
I don’t have to look at Ludovico to know the process. Our father taught us to shoot between the eyes and in the heart to ensure the kill.
Renzo Lombardi is no more.
His father roars at the death of his heir and rises to one foot.
I shoot his kneecap.
He screams in agony and falls to his side, covering the blown joint with his hands. Blood oozes past his trousers and between his fingers.
“Do not kill him, Marcello.”
Luca’s calm command stills my trigger fingers.
“End the others.”
Without hesitation, Flavio, our soldiers, and I kill them. The room erupts in gunfire, screams, and shouts. A single gunshot aimed at the ceiling silences the ballroom. All eyes shift to Luca.
The eldest of the Lucchese siblings at twenty-five and the identical twin to Ludovico stalks towards Niccolò. My brother moves with the grace of a predator as he focuses his sharp brown eyes on the fallen capo. Their eyes meet. Neither cowers.
“You dare to kill our father while our mother rides in the car with him on their way to your son’s engagement party to our sister? You break the code of no harm to women and to children. So you can take over what my family has run for generations? The Lucchese’s rule La Cosa Nostra.”
My heart skips a beat.
However, years of trainings—including beatings by my father’s hands—prevent me from displaying any reaction and damn sure no emotion. I sense the eyes of the other capos and their soldiers on my brothers and me. I remain still with my guns at the ready.
“You dare to speak to me like I’m someone beneath you, boy?! You’re still shooting blanks. I don’t give a fuck who you think you are.”
Ludovico and Flavio flank Luca. Niccolò gives them a scathing look and spits at their feet.
“Marcello, bring Giada from wherever you were fucking her.”
The son of another capo utters a string of Italian curses. But he shuts his mouth with a quickness when a soldier faces him.
“You filthy animal! If you laid a fucking hand on my daughter—”
Ludovico knocks the words from Niccolò’s mouth with the butt of his gun. A glob of blood mixed with broken teeth lands on the floor. Wordlessly, Ludo steps back.
I stride from the ballroom and return with a frightened Giada gripped by the elbow.
“Father!”
She jerks. But I hold her fast and drag her to Luca.
“My father taught us an eye for an eye—”
