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A chuckle escapes me. “That’s a joke, right?”
My dad glares at me again. I inwardly sigh.
“We both know that won’t happen, Vincent. How about I propose another deal? Stop this entire charade, and I’ll even let you live. You’ll only be missing a few fingers by the end.”
He’s smiling by the end of that statement. Anybody who didn’t know the Don would think he was only joking. But he’s being fucking serious. I’ve witnessed first-hand my dad pulling off fingers with pliers. He can be ruthless when spited, and Vincent’s betrayal is the biggest one of all. Considering they’ve known each other for most of their adult life.
“You’re not taking me seriously,” Vincent says with a frown. “How about I let you know just how fucking serious I am?”
It all happens so fast. Vincent pulls out a gun and he aims at the man closest to my father. Before I can reach for mine, a pop cuts through the air. It’s loud. Loud enough to cause a ringing in my ears. Everyone around me stills, and it feels like an eternity before the gravity of the situation hits me. But it’s actually only a second or two before we all move into action.
I grab my gun from the back of my shirt. The weight feels like an added limb. It soothes me, only slightly, as I turn to the person slumped on the floor with blood oozing from his chest. I stare at Miguel for a second. My cousin, my family, and he’s dead.
Something chilly rolls through my veins.
“Nobody move,” I say, my eyes trained on Vincent.
The men surrounding him have their guns out, as well. We’re outnumbered and I have my father to thank for that. He was determined to prove that Vincent wasn’t an important enough threat. I think a part of him believed his friend would eventually start to see sense. But he was wrong. And now, there will be hell to pay.
The Don is already prepared, a gun in his hands. His eyes are pitch black, fury rolling off him in waves. There are four men surrounding him, trying to shield him with their bodies. It’s the kind of loyalty that can’t be bought. Some of the men are our family, others are close enough to be referred to as such. They swore to protect us with their lives, and from the looks on their faces, they plan to do so.
By not joining Vincent, they’ve proven that they take their vows seriously.
“Fuckingcazzo,” Michael swears beside me.
His muscles are coiled tight. That’s our cousin dead on the floor. Our brother. Tony’s on my other side, a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. His gaze keeps slipping back to Miguel on the floor. They were close. In our line of business, you have to prepare yourself for death every once in a while. But it’s been a long time since we lost anybody.
“I’m going to kill him,” I spit. The words are a promise.
“Vincent!” my father roars.
I catch the slight twinge of fear in Vincent’s expression. He looks like he can’t believe what he just did. He knows better than anybody that he just started a war. The time for negotiations is past. There’s no going back after this.
I’ve always been great at reading people, expressions, body language. I minored in psychology in college. I wanted to understand what made people tick, why they do the things they do. That understanding is the only reason why I’m able to detect the minute Vincent’s expression changes to one of resignation and acceptance.
My eyes widen as I watch him whisper something to one of the men guarding him. Then his eyes meet my father’s. Time slows. Everything that happens next plays out in slow motion. All it takes is one shot. My dad realizes what’s about to happen the exact same moment it happens. All he can do is raise his gun and fire a shot of his own. But it’s no use. The bullet meets his forehead and Ricardo De Luca falls down. There’s no mistaking the fact that he’s dead.
The first thing that comes to mind is that he knew. Vincent knew my father was wearing a bulletproof vest, which is why he shot at the one place he wouldn’t be able to survive. He killed him without blinking an eye. A man he has known for several decades. A man that gave him a chance when no one else did, and he shot him without a second thought.
My hand starts to tremble, but I will not fall. I refuse to be broken by this. The last thing I remember is my yell of anguish before everything goes black and all I can think about is murder. The sound of gunshots cut through the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tony move away from us, sneaking behind enemy lines. I watch as he slashes the knife across a man’s neck before shooting another in the stomach.
The rest of the men who are still alive provide cover as I try my best to reach Vincent. But it’s no use. Someone drives a car around. Panic floods through me at the thought of losing the man that killed my father. I shoot as many bullets as I can but none of them hits the mark. Vincent manages to escape.
I empty my last two bullets into the rest of his men, and then my rage tapers out. It’s never happened to me before. It’s complete and utter depletion that gives way to utter devastation. My chest threatens to cave in on itself as I whirl around.
My dad’s right there on the ground, unmoving. Michael is on his knees beside his body, eyes wide with unshed tears. I barely register the blood oozing from the bullet wound on his arm. Out of the four other men who came with us, only one is still alive, fear written across his face.
Very slowly, I lower my body to the ground, kneeling beside my father. I reach for his hand, hoping to feel something, but there’s nothing. He doesn’t move. I can’t feel shit. Not from him and not from myself. My chest is hollow, empty. Someone places a hand on my shoulder.
“Get up,” Tony says.
I ignore him.
“Get the fuck up, Rome!” he hisses. “We grieve after revenge.”
That opens the floodgates of emotions, and I’m glad rage returns first.We grieve after revenge.My father used to say that. It was a consolation, a promise, an encouragement. I know without a doubt he wouldn’t want me on the ground crying over him.
There are so many things I have to take care of. But like Tony said, the first is revenge. So I get to my feet. Michael follows suit, and the two of them move to stand beside me.
