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Openly.
In a fair fight—not in his scheming, underhanded kind of way.
But he wasn’t man enough, or maybe his influence wasn’t strong enough, to take me down head-on.
And I had no basis, no evidence to burn him to the ground—just yet.
But I wouldn’t rest until I found it.
Wouldn’t rest until I defeated him once and for all.
* * *
“Capisci?” I stared at one of my enforcers while I pressed his head against the surface of my father’s old mahogany desk.
These days my anger was close to the surface, and my temper ran hot.
“He understands,” Alessandro said and laid his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.
I put pressure on his head once more, then took a step back and released Otello from my vise.
“Vai!” I said and turned to the window.
Streetlights bounced off the wet asphalt and cast irregular shapes of light on the otherwise dark street behind Vexa—our biggest nightclub—and the base of operation in Verona.
Shadows and light.
I listened to Otello getting up and scurrying out of my office like the rat he was.
He was another one of Fausto’s puppets. And I was done with it.
Over and done.
Fausto’s power inside the family ran deep—like an undercurrent of poison—invisible on the surface but steadily trickling beneath it.
Had my father known? Was that the reason for his death? Because he got too close to the truth?
The door opened and closed.
“They all voted for you. Why are you still so suspicious?” Cristo asked.
I turned around and stared at my little brother.
Because I wouldn’t rest before this unfortunate operation of human trafficking was entirely gone from our family’s business operation.
And until every last one involved got the message. Human trafficking was not a business venture the Falcone family would be dealing in. And everyone involved before better uninvolve themselves or faced the consequences.
Even if I had to hand deliver those personally.
Cristo sat on the back of the sofa in my office and let himself fall backward—all playful—then looked at me upside-down. “You behave like everybody in the family is your enemy.”
I shared a look with Alessio, who shrugged at our little brother’s antics.
Somehow, despite his reservations and my suspicions, Alessandro had advanced to be my right-hand man.
While Cristo was still a little too young and a little too reckless—apart from his playboy-who-likes-to-party-a-little-too-much ways.
Alessandro, on the other hand, would’ve made a good head of the family.
