Chapter 20
Dante
Boston Harbor wasn’t a place I visited often. One thing my grandfather used to say was you never shit where you ate. Obviously something the Mancusos still had to learn.
Our shipments never came through Boston Harbor. In fact, we never used the same port twice in a row. It was always scattered around. Different ports. Different shipping lines. Different times of day or night. And different routes.
We’d never claimed to be saints. To some people, there was no such thing as a big or small sin. Wrong was wrong. But in my opinion…who in the name of ever-loving fuck thought that way? How could one argue there was no scale when it came to wrongdoing? That was like saying a rapist had done equal wrong as the man who cheated on his wife. Bullshit. No matter who said what, I believed sin could be measured. And it was because of this I knew the Mancusos were far higher on the wrongdoing scale than we were.
Yes, we bought illegal firearms.
Yes, we sold illegal firearms. Those were our family’s devil horns, but our halo was the fact that we supplied said illegal firearms to countries who fucking needed it. Countries where civil war was a reality. Countries which needed someone to break the fucking law, and to be sinners in the eyes of man so they had means to survive. So, yes, we weren’t saints. We were dirty bastards who couldn’t afford to have a conscience so the less fortunate had an evenhanded chance in this unfair thing we called life.
This was our city. We ruined. We ruled. But what set us apart from people like the Mancusos, we didn’t just take. We gave back to those who needed it most. We protected those who couldn’t protect themselves.
I glanced at my father sitting in the passenger seat. The drugs. The ruined lives. It was fucking with him in the worst kind of way. These were our people who needed our protection. Drugs soiling the streets meant we weren’t doing our jobs, and my father took that personally. All of us did.
But right now, this went beyond personal. They took what was mine. Touched what was mine. Harmed what was mine. And now…they had to die.
“How are you doing, son?”
I checked the rearview mirror, Antonio and Lucio driving behind us. “Oh, I’m fucking peachy.”
“Stop the bullshit, Dante. I know you’re angry, hurt, and probably confused as hell.”
I snorted. “Confused? Now, why would I be confused? Two days ago, I was living a bachelor’s life, and now I’m on my way to put some bullets in a few Italian cocksuckers’ skulls. Oh, and of course, I’m a father now too…apparently.” I shrugged. “Nothing to be confused about at all.”
“Sarcasm. It’s always been your best line of defense.” He looked out his side window. “But I’m afraid this time it’s not going to work.”
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. The anger was simmering, threatening to erupt, to destroy everything in its path. But it needed to be contained, controlled until it could be unleashed on the fuckers who deserved it.
“Rafe,” I heard my father say. “The name, it means counsel of the wolf.”
The murderous thoughts inside my head stopped, the hate silenced.
“Rafe,” I whispered. “Rafe.” Layla managed to hide a part of my heritage in his name. My son. My boy.
Oh. My. God.
I had a son. I actually had a son. This was no longer just me and Layla. I was no longer going to try to save the woman I loved. I was going to do everything in my goddamn power to get back the mother of my child. It wasn’t about me anymore, about how desperately I wanted her back, safe here with me. It was about him. Rafe. How he needed his mother. How I would storm through the gates of hell to make sure he didn’t have to live a life without a mother. Without a father…without me.
I stepped on the gas, swerved around corners, and ignored every red light the best I could. My father hated speed, but he knew now was not the time to preach about it.
“Is Castello’s team there?”
My father looked at his phone. “Yes. Everyone is in position.”
“Good.”
More speed. More determination. More deadly contemplations. With every breath and every beat of my blackened heart, I embraced the hate, the rage, the undeniable vehemence of my lust to kill every motherfucker who did her wrong. I would not rest until I slaughtered each and every bastard who dared to lay a finger on my woman.
As we approached the entrance of the harbor, I didn’t slow down. The boom lifted, and I raced inside with screeching tires, Antonio close behind.
“Dad.”
We glanced at each other.
“This ends tonight.” I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “I’m ending this war tonight.”