I hear movement and the sound of an angry voice. No doubt Makenna’s awake, and just as I am, she’ll be pissed. A hit against us, is a hit against everyone.
“You know what this means, don’t you, Dante?” I snarl as I exit the club.
“This means fucking war, Alessio. Fucking war. Those Serbians aren’t going to know what’s hit them by the time we’re finished.”
I smile as the call ends. It’s about fucking time we took care of these bastards. Six weeks I’ve been back here in New York, and these fucking pricks have tried to infiltrate our turf. The shitshow the Serbs are doing is laughable. They’re trying to make moves, trying to make their mark by coming after us. Fucking idiots.
Up until today, it had been stupid, small, shitty things, like moving into our turf, trying to undercut our drugs, and trying to poach our men. Things we have let slide but dealt with in a clear warning. The last thing we need is a full-on war on the streets of New York. Over the years, we learned the hard way about what a war will do. We’ve lost so many people. Too many good men have died at the hands of wars. Both Dante and I know that sometimes violence is needed, but we also understand there are other ways to take care of business. Silently but deadly. Do it in a way that not all eyes are on you. The world doesn't know that we’re the monsters our father was.
These Serbs have no warning lights. They’ve just kept coming for us. Losing all their customers when we let it be known that we price matched them with their drugs. Instead of realizing how fucked they were, they’ve done this tonight. There’s nocoming back for them. They brought the war, and something that the Serbians didn’t realize is they're not just going up against us. This club may be an Italian Familiga owned club, but with us Italians comes the Irish. Over the years, we’ve built up a lot of alliances, a fuck of a lot of them.
Dante and I have learned the many reasons as to why our father wanted the alliance between Dante and Makenna. He knew that the Irish were making moves. He knew that when the time came, and a war broke out, he wanted to be surrounded by people who could protect him.
He was a fucking cunt, but he was a smart bastard. Something no one can deny him. But as the years went on, the alliances between the Italians and Irish have only strengthened. There’s so many Gallaghers—most of whom are married now—each one of them has married into a powerful family. A threat against one of us, is a threat against us all. If the Serbs come for our turf, next, they’ll go for the Irish. It’s not going to work. They fucked up, and they’re going to realize by the end of the night exactly how they’ve done so.
The sound of sirens reaches me. I've only got a few minutes until the cops start storming the place and barking orders like they own it. My rage is palpable. In the year since my father died, Dante has prided himself on being an old-school mafia don. Yes, we kill people—only those who have slighted or wronged us—but our communities, the streets we own, they do not know or feel the death and destruction of our world anymore. All they know is peace and harmony and that's the way we want it kept. In one night, the Serbians have fucked up completely. And for that, they will pay.
I wait at the entrance of the club, knowing the cops are going to want to question me.
Not only am I angry that I'm here, stuck in a stupid fucking war, but the woman I want to see is hundreds of miles away, nodoubt thinking I'm never coming back. Gabriella Sanchez is the woman who has been on my mind since the very beginning. I knew as soon as I saw her there was something special about her. And every time I've been with her, she's proven that to me one way or another. The moment I fucked her, I knew I wasn't letting her go. No matter how she might just dismiss me afterwards. Something that not only pisses me off but makes me smile. I know it's her way of protecting herself. But she has to know there's no way she can protect herself from me. Not anymore.
She had her chance that night those Russian bastards got me. That was her one chance to walk away. But she didn't. She chose to stay, and now I’m addicted. I get hard just thinking about my woman and how effortlessly sexy she is. I know my family thinks I was fucking around while I was down in Denver. They have no idea just how serious things got. Makenna has made a few comments, ones that make me chuckle. She thinks I'm going after Yelena. That's laughable. Especially after her old man tried to take me out.
Something I've learned over the past six weeks is that what Yelena and I had was merely attraction. I was young, dumb, and stupid. I needed a way to break through my father's hold on me. And Yelena was there. It was my act of rebound. Feelings did start to form, but they weren't love. I don't know if I'm even capable of feeling that emotion. But I did care for the girl. Her leaving was the best thing that ever happened to me.
I got my head on straight, I was more focused on what needed to be done, and I became the man I was destined to be. The Consigliere for the Famiglia.
Dante arrives not even twenty minutes later, while I'm still talking to the cops. His expression is calm and relaxed, but the swirling anger in his eyes tells me this isn’t the end. No one gets away with doing this to us. Revenge is going to start, and it's going to start soon.
He does pretty much what I did. Just walks straight into the club. The cops try to stop him, not wanting him to contaminate their crime scene, but Dante doen’t give a fuck, he doesn’t listen to them. He needs to see for himself the damage that these Serbians have done. He needs to see the savageness they wrought. He will let that rage simmer beneath his body just like I am. One way or another we’re going to unleash that rage we have built and those cunts that did this are going to feel our wrath. Nobody comes after us and gets away with it.
Once I’m finished with the cops, they move on to Dante, wanting to question him about what happened tonight. Fuck, they all saw him arrive after the fact, yet these cops will do anything to try and pin shit on us.
I reach for my cell again and call Romero. My brother is on alert letting me know that Dante has already spoken to him. Good. The more people that are awake and in the know the fucking better.
“Holly and I are on our way,” he tells me. “We should be in New York in about an hour.”
Knowing Rome, it’ll be a fuck of a lot less than an hour. He and his wife Holly live in Connecticut. Most of the time, he travels to and from New York. He is the underboss for the Clann. He’s one of Makenna’s right-hand men. But as much as he is the underboss of the Irish Mafia, he is still very much ingrained in the Famiglia.
“It’s fucking carnage here, bro,” I say, letting him know just what to expect. “The cops are here and taking statements. They've pulled out twenty-five dead bodies from the club.” Most of them are barely out of their teenage years, finally able to have fun.
“Fucking bastards,” he growls. “I’ll meet you and Dante at the house.”
I grind my jaw. God, it’s going to be a long fucking night.
“I'll see you there,” I say. “Prepare yourself, Rome, the war is coming.” I end the call, my gaze firmly on the door to the club, where the emergency services are rushing in and out.
It's another hour before Dante and I are able to leave. Eleven more dead bodies have been brought out. I counted every single body bag that left the club. I know they're still hopeful there are survivors, but I know there won’t be. This day will sit in the hearts of those emergency workers and in the community for years to come. It’s time for the Famiglia to act, and to do so with the full extent of our arsenal.
My gut is screaming as Dante and I walk toward my car. His is currently blocked in by the emergency services. He’ll get one of our men to get it for him tomorrow. I glance back at the club, and it hits me. How the fuck did those cunts get into the club with fucking guns and open fire? How were they allowed into the club with guns at all?
It’s something we’re going to have to find out.
“Talk to me,” he demands as soon as I start the engine. “I can tell by your face that you’re thinking hard about something, so what is it?”
I pull out into the light New York traffic. “How the fuck does this happen?” I growl. My anger simmering along the surface. “How do five gunmen walk into our club with fucking guns and kill this many people?” I glance at my brother. “Where were the men on the door, Dante? Where the fuck were the bouncers?”
It’s something that has been niggling at me since the moment I walked into that club. None of our men were on the door, none of their bodies have been found. Not fucking one. So where the fuck are they? My jaw tightens. Either our men have been taken or they’re working against us.