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Luca smiles. Clearly pleased that he surprised me. “I want you by my side. There’s no one I trust more. Well, except Mass.” I look to the corner. Massimo gives a nod. It’s a subtle gesture but tells me everything I need to know.
“Congratulations Mass.” I say with a nod back.
Suddenly Don and dad start laughing. My eyes flick between them. Trying to understand the reasoning. Dad slaps a hand on my shoulder. “That is exactly why you will make a great Consigliere. You knew exactly what Luca’s intentions were without needing to say them.”
“Of course. With my hacking, I would be best utilized behind a desk. Massimo is literally built to be an Underboss.” I reply. Then I rise and move so I stand before my brother. I place my hand over my heart. A deep sign of respect in our world. “I would be honored to be your Consigliere.”
Luca stands and wraps me in a hug. We aren’t big on affection. Especially in front of men of the family. “I love you bro.” He whispers in my ear.
“Love you too.” I whisper back with two slaps to his back.
The Don rises and claps his hands together. “Now that that is settled, let’s move on to the fun part.” He looks to me and gives me a wink.
We head to the basement in silence. I’m thankful for the quiet because my head is buzzing. Consigliere. It’s hard to wrap my mind around. I am honored. Deeply.
I can’t wait to tell my girl. She won’t understand its importance. Not at first. For me, it’s everything. Not just the job, the protection. As Consigliere, we will live within the walls of the compound. I will have guards and security at my disposal to watch over her. She will never be without protection. It has been my greatest fear about bringing her into my world.
The hallway through the basement is dark. There are two sides to the basement. You can’t access one side from the other. The other side holds our weapons room, infirmary, and gym. This side is for our seedier business. It’s soundproof and only accessible by a select few.
I walk past a few empty cells. We don’t keep men in these cages long. Once they give us the information we need, they are disposed of. We enter the room at the end of the hall. I recognize the man strapped to the chair. He works at one of our clubs as a bouncer. He’s an employee not family. Still we expect loyalty to any who receive a paycheck with our insignia on it.
It’s customary in our family that first blood is a right of passage. It is also not a quick kill. There is no bullet to the head or knife to the throat. It is a slow and grueling process where you showcase your skills and prove your loyalty to the family. You are not allowed to ask what they did to deserve the torture. Hell, you don’t even get told if they do deserve it. It’s a test of loyalty as much as anything else.
I’ve already been gone for hours from my girl. As I take off my suit jacket and lay it on the empty table, I shoot her a quick text letting her know I’m going to be later than expected, and to not wait up for me. I turn my phone on silent, knowing I can’t be distracted. There is no clock in the room. No way to tell the passing of time. The man in the chair needs to have my undivided attention.
Next I move to the only other table in the room. An array of tools and weapons take up every inch. I’m trained to know how to use them all. Everything from the knife, to the hatchet. The sledgehammer to the blow torch. That last one being my least favorite. The smell of burning flesh does not easily vacate your nose even after you leave the room.
I start with the pliers. Learning from the best, I know I should start with things that hurt without losing a lot of blood. That will come later.
At some point Santo excuses himself from the room, taking a phone call. Don, dad, Luca, and Massimo stay to witness as I methodically pick my victim apart. His screams echoing off the bricks.
By the time I am finished, and the Don gives me the nod of his approval, it is the early hours of the morning. I’m itching to rush to the lake house. I need my girl. The experience of taking a life was so much more than I could have imagined. I knew I could physically do it. Mentally I prepared myself as much as I could.
I was in no way prepared. My mind hadn’t reacted the way I thought it would. It was like there was a beast inside me, and with every drop of blood I spilled, and every scream it heard, it grew hungrier. Wanting more. Needing more.
Even now, with the man dead, and myself washed of any remnants of the event, I can feel the beast lingering under my skin. It wants out.
I need the peace I feel with my girl. Her presence, her scent, it calms me. It’s like her soul sings a lullaby only mine can hear.
Stepping out of the house into the early morning air, I dial my girl’s phone. She doesn’t answer so I leave a message. She probably won’t listen to it before I get there, but I leave it anyway. I tell her I’m sorry again and that I’m on my way. Once I hang up, I go to my messages. She never responded. The hairs on my arm instantly spring up and a cold chill washed over me. I sent the message at at 6:15pm. There is no way she wouldn’t have seen the message by now. And my girl always responds. Always.
“No. No. No….” Knowing something is wrong, I run to my car and speed like the hounds of hell are nipping at my ass all the way to the lake house. My mind running every horrible scenario over and over in my head.
Would I find her body?
A trail of blood?
A note from an enemy telling me she’s been taken?
When I get into the driveway, her car isn’t there. A familiar black sedan is. Santo’s. He steps out of the house, just as I’m getting out of the car. There is a slip of paper in his hands. He passes it to me, as he gives my shoulder a squeeze. It’s a move my father has done a thousand times. Only there is no comfort in his touch. “I’m sorry.” He says. That’s it. Two words. Then he is gone.
I don’t look at the note right away. I know the moment I do, my life will never be the same. Hell it was never going to be the same once I stepped into the basement last night.
I move through the house and out onto the back deck. It’s peaceful. Quiet. Only sound I hear is the gentle slapping of the waves against the rocky beach. I try to soak in the peaceful feeling, knowing it may be the last time I feel it.
I smooth out the crumpled paper in my hand. I recognize her handwriting even with the words hard to make out. The letters are shaky at best, like she was rushing to put the words down and be done.
Done.
