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“I’m…doing better,” I said finally. A tense silence stretched between us. “I should probably go see what our father wants.” The awkwardness was painful. I turned to walk away.
“Hey, Dante?” Killian called. I stopped, glancing at him over my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re back.”
Whether he meant back home or back to normal, I couldn’t tell. Even then, his words made me feel just a little bit better.
“And I’m glad you got justice for our mother.”
I looked away. “I didn’t.”
The Roccos might have been the ones to pull the trigger, but they weren’t our mother’s killers. Not really. The person who had sent out the hit on her was—and that was someone we hadn’t even come close to catching yet.
I knocked on the study door, waiting for my father’s voice to let me in. He was standing by the bookshelves, leaning against one as he stared out the window. Sunlight filtered in through the glass I knew was bulletproof. A glass of whiskey was gripped in one hand, while another held a burning cigarette.
“So, are you done playing around now?”
I flinched at the tone of his voice but refused to reply. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. When I said nothing, he finally turned around. He’d let his beard grow out a bit, making him look even rougher around the edges. There were dark circles under his eyes, though I couldn’t tell if that was just the natural Italian in him or if he actually felt something for my mother’s death. With him, I could never tell.
“I heard about your latest exploit,” Sal said gruffly, taking a seat behind his desk. The glass of whiskey clinked against the desktop. “The Roccos, was it?”
“I heard they just bought a new warehouse. When I got there, they were moving crates that had been stolen from Sienna’s storage before the explosion.” My voice fell flat, merely giving a report.
My father nodded. “Well, that does seem like somewhat substantial evidence against them.”
“They confessed.”
“Did they now?”
I cleared my throat, trying to still my racing heart. “The man I interrogated—”
“Tortured, you mean,” my father said, interrupting. “Let’s not mistake it for what it wasn’t.”
“—he confessed to receiving a paper with the image of mother. A snake had been stamped onto the top of the page,” I finished, ignoring him.
“A snake, you say?” He glanced up at me sharply.
“That seems to be just one of the Snake’s calling cards,” I tell him.
He looked away, steel eyes sharp and calculating. “A lot has happened since you’ve been gone this past week.” I stayed silent. “A few police officers who had been managing the Rosania’s case have gone missing. They showed up dead just this morning. Snake venom.” His gaze cut to me, measuring my reaction.
“Were they ours?” I asked.
“No. Not ours. But still. We have a tentative alliance with the NYPD, as does the Rosania family. If someone else is fucking with that alliance, then we’ll all have a problem on our hands. The minute police officers start being murdered, the more we risk having the feds come down on us.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” I snapped. I couldn’t help it. His wife—my mother—had just been murdered by this psycho, and he was more concerned about the Snake fucking up his alliance with the local police.
Sal’s mouth twitched downwards. “This can affect us for the rest of our lives, boy. I won’t be around forever, and soon you’ll be taking over. Would you like to have a mess on your hands when you take power?”
I looked away, feeling disgusted.
“You have no room to judge,” my father warned. “It’s not as if you’ve been the perfect angel this past week.”
Flinching, I kept my eyes firmly on the wall beside me. “That’s different. It was revenge.”
“Bullshit. You tell yourself whatever the fuck you need to get over this, but don’t pretend it was anything other than you losing control,” he spat. “I thought I trained you better than that.”
“What was I supposed to do?” I asked, my voice rising. “Just let her death slide without punishment? To allow other families to believe they can take us out with no consequences?”
His fist slammed against the table, his glass clattering dangerously close to the edge. “I would have dealt with it if you had given me the chance. But you went off, on your own, thinking you could do better.” He sneered. “And look where that’s gotten us. Half those on the streets right now are asking for your fucking head. They think you’ve gone rabid. Can’t be controlled. I’ve been doing damage control while your wife had to step back from her own duties to track you down.”
