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.
“Out! Everyone out!” My order is harsh, but I grip Valentino’s and Mario’s arms before they can leave. Once we’re alone, I turn to both men. “I may not want this woman in my life, but it was my father’s last wish, and I will do as he has asked, but make no mistake, once her uncle signs the contract, they all die.” My voice is rough, my throat scraping as I consider what’s about to happen. “Call the men, set up the meeting, and then call Cavallone. Tell him his brother’s death was not in vain.”
“An eye for an eye?” Valentino asks.
My father killed the Cavallone capo, which is why they came for him. He knew what would happen. My father inadvertently killed himself by doing so, but he took my mother with him.
“There will be blood,” I affirm with a nod, and he leaves to do as I asked.
Nobody will touch us. We have law enforcement in our pockets, which means nothing happens in this city and around the bordering towns without us knowing about it. It means we’re able to wage war and walk away with no issue.
I think back to the book that lies in wait in my father’s office, the Familia records. The last entry hasn’t been filled yet, a small blank box for my name. Beside it will be the name of my future wife, also empty for now.
Mario sighs beside me. “I know you’re angry, but think on it, Enzo.”
Of course, I’m angry. My father wants me to marry the girl whose father and uncle are responsible for his death. He must have been out of his fucking mind.
But I cannot refuse.
My best friend watches me. For a man who just found out his parents were murdered, I’m sure I’m a picture of calmness and tranquility. My emotions only show in my dark eyes that match my father’s.
“We will plan this attack, this takedown, like the professionals we are. We could rush into this tonight, but we’d lose more, and I’m not prepared to do that.”
If I truly sit back and consider my father’s words, I know he’s right. I don’t want to admit it, but revenge isn’t rushed.
I’m hot-headed. I act quickly, without question or reason.
Valentino sighs in the shadows, and I ask a question that’s been plaguing me since I saw the contract, “Why would Cavallone even have agreed to me marrying her? I doubt he signed the contract that gives me control over his precious little princess.”
Valentino’s smile is dark, dangerous, his eyes glint with promise that his plan is filled with vengeance. “Because he didn’t know she was marrying a De Rossi until his name was signed. I was there the day your father instigated it. Mattea was under the impression it was one of the Moretti sons. But… that was not the case.” In our world, once you sign your name, it’s done in blood. And there is no going back.
Narrowing my gaze, I ask, “But it still doesn’t explain why Dad wants her specifically. What made him think she would be a good fit for me?”
“He didn’t. None of us know if an arrangement will work, but the revenge he had planned was to end the Cavallone line once and for all,” he informs me, which has my ears pricking with interest. “And this is the way to do it. She will take the De Rossi name, and once that happens, we kill the rest.”
“I trust my father,” I tell him. “I’ll do it.”
As the final curtain draws to a close, I know I must leave. Rising from my seat, I pull out my cell phone and find a message from Mario informing me it’s been done.
I’ve waited for too long to exact my revenge.
And it’s time my little dancer knows that.
Chapter 2
Luna
I don’t know why I’m here.
Here being a place I’ve only heard whispers about.
Growing up within this life has allowed me to garner secrets that I probably shouldn’t be privy to, but my father was always open and honest about who he was in this city—a man to be feared, and a man you could never cross because you’d end up dead.
At seventeen, I’m far too used to the life of Made men and violence.
“Why are we here?” I whisper to my uncle, Tommaso, as we walk up to Club Desperation, with a man named Mario following close behind. He’s tall, far taller than Tommaso, and he’s double my uncle’s size.
Fear grips my chest as Tommaso holds my hand and gives it a small squeeze of reassurance, which doesn’t calm my erratic heartbeat. “It’s for your own good, piccolo,” he mumbles, but doesn’t look at me, causing anxiety to twist in my stomach.