He gripped my collar and pulled me to my feet. My legs hurt as I tried to stand. “You are a fucking waste of my blood. You and your sisters share your mother’s tainted genes. One disappointment after the other. All of you. Your sisters are whores and you are weak. I’m done with you. Your brother will become Consigliere.”
“But he’s a baby. I’m your oldest son.” Since Father had married his second wife, he’d treated me like dirt. I’d thought it was to make me strong for my future tasks. I’d done everything to prove my worth to him.
“You are a disappointment like your sisters. I won’t allow you to bring shame down on me.” He let go of me and my legs gave way.
More pain.
“But Father,” I whispered. “It’s tradition.”
His face twisted with rage. “Then we’ll just have to make sure that your brother is my oldest son.” He nodded at Alfonso, who rolled up his sleeves. The first punch hit my stomach, then my ribs. I kept my eyes on my Father as punch after punch shook my body, until my vision finally turned black. He’d kill me.
“Make sure he won’t be found, Alfonso.”
Pain.
Bone-deep.
I groaned. Vibrations sent a twinge through my ribs. I tried to open my eyes and sit up, but my lids were crusted shut. I groaned again.
I wasn’t dead.
Why wasn’t I dead?
Hope flared up.
“Father?” I croaked.
“Shut up and sleep, boy. We’ll arrive soon.”
That was Alfonso’s voice.
I struggled into a sitting position and peeled my eyes open. My vision was blurry. I was sitting in the back of a car. Alfonso turned to me. “You’re stronger than I thought. Good for you.”
“Where?” I coughed, then winced. “Where are we?”
“Kansas City.” Alfonso steered the car onto an empty parking lot. “Final stop.”
He got out, then opened the back door and pulled me out. I gasped in pain, holding my ribs, then staggered against the car. Alfonso flipped open his wallet and handed me a twenty dollar note. I took it, confused.
“Perhaps you’ll survive. Perhaps you won’t. I suppose it’s up to fate now. But I won’t kill a fourteen-year old kid.” He grasped my throat, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Your father thinks you’re dead, boy, so make sure you stay away from our territory.”
Their territory? It was my territory. The Outfit was my destiny. I didn’t have anything else.
“Please,” I whispered. He shook his head, then walked around the car and got in. I took a step back when he drove off, then sank down to my knees. My clothes were covered in blood. I clutched the dollar note in my palms. This was all I had. Slowly I stretched out on the cool asphalt. Pressure against my calf reminded me of my favorite knife strapped to a holster there. Twenty dollars and a knife. My body ached and I never wanted to get up again. There was no sense in doing anything. I was nothing. I wished Alfonso had done as my father ordered and killed me.
I coughed and tasted blood. Perhaps I’d die anyway. My eyes flitted around. There was a huge graffiti on the wall of the building to my right. A snarling wolf in front of swords.
The sign of the Bratva.
Alfonso couldn’t kill me himself.
This place would. Kansas City belonged to the Russians.
Fear urged me to rise and leave. I wasn’t sure where to go or what to do. I hurt all over. At least it wasn’t cold. I began walking to look for a place I could spend the night. Eventually I settled for the entrance of a coffee shop. I’d never been alone, never had to live on the streets. I pulled my legs against my chest, swallowed a whimper. My ribs. They hurt fiercely. I couldn’t return to the Outfit. Father would kill me. Perhaps I could try to contact Dante Cavallaro. But he and Father had worked together for a long time. I’d look like a fucking rat, a coward and weakling.
Aria would help. My stomach clenched. Her helping Lily and Gianna was the reason why Father hated me in the first place. And running to New York with my tail between my legs to beg Luca to make me part of the Famiglia wasn’t going to happen. Everyone would know I had been taken in out of pity, not because I was a worthy asset.
Worthless.
This was it. I was alone.
Four days later. Only four days. I was out of money and hope. Every night I returned to the parking lot, hoping, wishing that Alfonso would return, that Father had changed his mind, that his last pitiless, hateful look at me had been my imagination. . I was a fucking idiot. And hungry.
No food in two days. I’d wasted my entire money the first day on burgers, fries and Dr. Pepper.