Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
It’s a good shot. A handgun from across a large room is far from a guaranteed hit. But my bullet strikes true, bashing straight through Ignazio’s mouth, scattering teeth, rending tongue, blasting blood and gore from the back of his neck.
His corpse crumbles as more guns are drawn.
Every man on his feet is armed. Rocco has two knives for some reason. He looks around sheepishly at the handguns.
“What is this?” Enzo Palladino pushes back from the table, pale and terrified. “What the fuck is this, Rafe?”
“You made your choice. This is the only way. To avoid a civil war, we end it now, before the fighting has a chance to begin.”
“Fuck you!” Gio Palladino shouts. “What the fuck? This is crazy! We were just voting!”
“Please.” The elder Palladino is pale. “Spare my boy. He was only following my lead.”
I aim at Enzo and shoot him in the chest.
The slaughter is horrific. Rocco howls, diving into poor Gio, and stabs the youngster to death after a brief struggle. Cassian walks through the room executing men with ruthless abandon. Every single Capo and Lieutenant who voted on my side pulls the trigger, killing men they’ve known for years, men they might’ve liked, might’ve respected.
Blood flows in thick rivers on the floor of the venue and I wonder idly how much trouble June’s going to be in when the owner sees the cleaning bill.
The killing ends abruptly. Corpses litter the floor. My remaining men slump back into their seats, all of them looking drained. Except for Cassian, who pours himself a drink and sighs like he’s finally satisfied. “Ignazio’s boys are still out there,” he says, swirling the whisky. “I’ll find them and finish them off. It’ll be my pleasure.”
“I know that was hard,” I say into the deathly silence that follows. “But like Silas explained, this is the only way the Corvino Famiglia survives. The lines were drawn. No matter what, there would have been conflict sooner or later. At least now, in this room, only these men had to die, instead of the whole organization turning to blood and murder. At least now we move on and build anew.”
“To the Don,” Silas says, raising his glass. “To a new era. To the future.”
“Here’s to fucking that!” Kellan shouts, drinking his glass to the dregs.
The remaining men follow, though they aren’t as enthusiastic.
But it wasn’t hard to secure their loyalty. Silas only had to make a few promises and to point out that with half the leadership of the family dead, a lot of new positions would be open. Money would be concentrated in fewer pockets. The family would get more powerful, and these few in this room would benefit the most.
Greed can pull most triggers.
But it wasn’t about that for me.
No, it was about June and Hattie.
I didn’t want to kill anyone in this room. Some of the dead were like cousins and uncles. They were all friends at one point or another. They backed me at my lowest, and I rewarded them over and over, until they finally decided they’d had enough.
I ended them to make sure my daughter and my wife would always be safe, no matter what.
Now there will be no civil war.
No more enemies gunning for me and my loved ones.
Only a bloody, new future.
I go around the room thanking the survivors. I pour drinks and light cigars. I shake hands and exchange condolences. There are some tears, but these are hard men. They know death and pain. We’ll survive and grow again. I have a pit in my stomach and a stone for a heart, but the closer I get to the door, the warmer my body becomes.
Silas joins me briefly toward the back. “I’ll handle cleanup. You’ve done enough for now.”
“That went to plan.”
“Which is rare for us.” He smiles and hugs me tight. “Love you, brother.”
“You too.” I open the door and leave the slaughter room, into the quiet of the hallway.
The guards escort me through the mansion, down a set of stairs, and to the first-floor kitchens. They’re empty.
Only my wife lingers there, pacing back and forth. She yelps when she spots me and rushes over, then stops short.
“Not my blood,” I explain.
Which amounts to an invitation. She throws herself at me and smothers my mouth with hers in a smeary, perfect kiss.
I return that kiss with so much intensity it feels like I’m cracking myself in half.
“I love you,” she says breathlessly. “I heard the shooting and I was so scared.”
“It went exactly like you said it would.” I lean my forehead to hers. “You have a devious mind, my love.”
“I have an organized mind. I can’t help it if those morons did exactly what we expected.”
“How’d you get Ignazio here?”
“Silas spread some rumors and that asshole did the rest. Is he…?”
“He’s dead.”