“Tell me,” I say, once every chair is filled. “Who at this table will fight with me to avenge my father’s death?” My question is direct. There is no time for bullshit because from what I read in the contract; I don’t have a choice but to fulfill my father’s dying wish for me.
Even if it is not something I want for myself.
“What happened today needs to be fixed.” They all know what I mean. I know that each man at this table will want retribution for what we just witnessed. Leaning back against the backrest of my chair, I track my gaze over the faces of the men I now rule.
There will be no fan fair, no celebration, because the circumstances call for something more drastic. The weight of what happened is clear in each expression I meet. And then, without words, they each set their weapons on the table.
The first one to say something is Mario, who sits on my right. “I will stand beside you, take a bullet for you. There is no question. My weapon is your weapon.” He meets my gaze, the look in his eye flickers with confidence as he recites our oath, “Death before dishonor.”
And in chorus, the rest of the room mimics Mario’s words.
With a nod, I push back my chair and rise. After buttoning my suit jacket, I say, “I will call a formal meeting in a couple of days, and we will take action.” One by one, they offer me a nod before leaving, and soon, it’s only me, Mario, and Valentino. I meet the older man’s stare. “Did my father tell you of this contract?”
“Yes, sir,” he responds quickly. “The Cavallone clan were our enemies long before the war started here in New York. The fight was between your father and hers.” His voice may be clear, but there’s a hint of sadness in his words. I wonder how many of my father’s secrets will die with this man.
Confusion furrows my brows as I take him in. “If he hated Mattea so much, why ensure I marry her?”
“Your father was a man who enjoyed making his enemies pay,” Valentino starts. “There’s a certain synchronicity to what he did. He knew one day you’d take over, and to ensure you weren’t stepping into a fight, he wanted to take down his biggest enemy.”
“So, in order for me to start my reign, I’m to marry this…” I wave my hand in the air with frustration. “Fifteen-year-old girl?”
“She will be eighteen in three years, so you will wait until then,” he informs me, but continues quickly, “she’s grown up in this life. She’s not like any other girl out there, Enzo.” There’s a foreboding in his tone, a warning that I shouldn’t judge her before knowing her. “The principessa is the perfect wife to become your queen. And the Cavallone line will die once she takes your last name.”
There’s no need for him to say anything more. We all know what will happen. We will kill them all once I’m wed to the girl.
I will kill them all.
Just then, the door bursts open and begging and pleading echoes from behind me. My movements are slow when I turn to regard the interruption with interest. It’s a woman I recognize from one of our favorite restaurants in the city. One of the capos, Nico, the oldest of the three who runs guns for us, owns the pizzeria. And the woman who’s being dragged into the room is one of the cooks who works in the kitchen.
“P-p-please?” she begs, and I push to my feet before Mario has time to react. I close the distance between us and stop inches from her. She tips her head back, her wide, watery eyes land on mine. “P-p-per favore?”
I nod. “Speak.”
“T-they… T-t-the guns,” she stutters, handing a piece of paper to me which looks like it’s seen better days, but I take it, and unfold the creases. Even though she’s dropped tears on the writing, it’s easy to make out just who this came from.
This war has taken far too many lives. Questa è la fine.
This is the end—the final words, written in our mother tongue.
“Cazzo!” Rage drips from my voice, poison injected into every letter that escapes my lips. “I will kill the whole fucking clan!” The Cavallone will pay, and I’ll ensure every one of them meets their maker soon enough.
“Enzo, calmati.” Mario is beside me. His hand on my shoulder. He’s the only person who would be brave enough to even venture close to me when I’m in this mood. He’s a good man and his voice calms me somewhat. But not enough to ensure my rage will be fully sated until I have blood on my hands.
Valentino takes the small note from me and curses under his breath.