‘Jesus. Can you please sit down?’ I grumble from across the room.
Alec rolls his eyes and clambers over my feet to stride over to Knox, who is standing by the windows, watching the men outside.
It’s a cloudy day, which is perfect, really. It matches my mood perfectly. Because enough has quite literally become enough. We’re having a meeting with Sandro, and he’s running late as usual.
‘Let’s bet he arrives an hour late.’ Declan holds out his hand, thumb facing me. I run a hand through my hair and glare at him.
I glower at him. ‘Is this a fucking joke to you, Declan? You choose this one moment to fucking laugh?’
It’s not his fault I’m pissed. It’s Sandro’s, and today, I’ll teach him a lesson. I’ve been waiting twenty minutes already.
‘I’m interested in the bet.’ Knox turns towards us and walks to the table where he takes his seat and, as always, pours me a glass of whiskey along with his.
‘Good. Five hundred dollars says he’s an hour late.’
Knox leans over and clasps his thumb to Declan’s. ‘An hour thirty minutes for a thousand dollars.’
I run a frustrated hand through my hair and lean into my chair. I hope it rains. The lake in the back will be teeming with water. Maybe I’ll go for a swim with the thunder rumbling above, the lightning flashing in my eyes.
‘You two just lost. He’s here.’
Good. I sit up and flip my gun from my waist, blow at its cylinder, and place it squarely on the table. I want it to be the first thing he sees when he steps into the room.
He’s coming along with most of the Masters. The men who do the grassroots work, so they say.
They dispense the drugs, get my money, and make sure it’s complete. They’re my men. And today, I’m making sure they will continue to be.
‘Take a seat, Alec.’
Alec returns to the table and sits. Ryder sticks his head into the door and nods in our signal. The men are complete. Perfect.
‘Make sure Sandro comes in first.’
I have a feeling there’s something off about him. It’s either the Russians have bought him out, or he’s weaker than I thought. Either way, the Russians are still too fucking close for comfort.
The old saying applies: if you want something done, do it yourself.
The sound of multiple footsteps comes thundering down the hallway, and then the sound of Sandro’s voice on a harsh laugh. I make sure he’s the one who steps into the room first, then I pick the gun off the table and blow his kneecap out.
The sound of the bullet ripping out is a loud, startling clap of thunder, just as I intended, and it has all their attention, though it is too late for the one whom it was intended to escape.
He falls to the floor with a hoarse cry, holding onto his leg where red is already spurting from. He lifts hate-filled eyes to me, and I stare down at him blankly before lifting my eyes to point the gun at the men who are still staring down at him, various degrees of shock in their equally blank eyes.
I smile somberly. ‘Come sit.’ I turn a glare at Sandro. ‘You too, Sandro.’
The men settle around the table, away from my brothers, who have taken their seats around me. Alec is on my right, and Declan and Knox are both on my left.
Sandro wails again as he tries to place force on his legs to push up. His face is dotted with sweat, pain, and anger smeared across the red expense of flesh.
I nod at Ryder, who helps him to his feet and leads him to that table, handing him a batch of bandages to tie across the seeping wound. ‘That was rather unnecessary, Xander Amory.’
I smile again. Not at him but at the men ranged around me. ‘I understand. But a lesson needed to be taught. And you’re the scapegoat.’ I point the gun at Enzo, his ragged red hair falling around his face. ‘Tomorrow it might be you.’ I point across the table. ‘Or you.’
None of them blink. None look away. None say a word.
‘Good. Pour the drinks, Knox. Let’s discuss business. I’ve been eager to hear from all of you.’
Knox pours the drinks, but no one takes the glasses until Alec has a gulp of his, as though we couldn’t poison ourselves and have the antidote as backup.
‘I know what the news says. My father is sick. There is no longer need to hide this. The Russians have made sure Chicago knows this.’
‘And what does this mean for the Famiglia?’ Antonio asks. Antonio ensures our guns get to the points where they need to be. He’s straight-tongued and doesn’t deviate from the truth.
‘It means things continue as usual. There will be nothing changing.’
The silence is long and winding. Enzo breaks it. ‘The Capo…’
I stop him with a blunt cut through his words. ‘I will be Capo in less than three weeks. Trust me, the issue of the Capo has nothing to do with this. It will be as I say.’
Matthew Benjamin, who has the most American name I’ve ever heard and also the most dangerous swing with a knife I’ve ever seen, lifts his hand in the air. I nod at him, though I don’t know why he bothers. ‘Shouldn’t we hear this from the present Capo?’
I frown at him, lifting the gun to check its heft in my hand. His eyes roll to the gun just like I want it to. ‘Are my words not enough for you, Benny?’
He jerks and stills. ‘Very well. But I do need your assurance that nothing changes. The Russians are parading the streets. Things are tight. I worry there will be trouble more than you can handle.’
The group goes tight-lipped all at once. And I know this is the root of the problem. They doubt me.
‘Do you have a solution for the Russians?’ I ask. I pull the drink that Knox had poured for me and take a large gulp, pretending the burn from the whiskey is all I feel.
‘I think we should wipe them out.’ Sandro barks. He takes a swing from his flask and glares across the table at me.
Declan drags the drink across the scratched mahogany table to pour himself a shot. ‘You don’t deserve a voice in the gathering of men, Sandro. We gave you a task. You failed at it. If you ask me, Xander’s bullet is not a fitting punishment for your failure.’
Sandro bangs a large, hairy hand on the table. ‘They killed my men!’
‘As we should kill you. Now shut up.’ I roar at him, fixing him with an intense stare that has him back into his chair in a few seconds.
Enzo wipes his lips with the back of his hand and cranes his neck to meet everyone’s eyes one after the other. ‘There will be no reasoning with him. If these words don’t slip out of this room, I will advise an extinction.’
I tilt my head, my stomach curdling like bad cheese. ‘Do you have knowledge I don’t? Is there a traitor in our midst?’
‘None that I can think of. But loyalty is a commodity. I have no idea who will decide he can be bought.’ Enzo said.
‘Let’s talk about this… extinction. All the Russians gone. Is that what you mean?’ Alec leans forward, his eyes gleaming in a way that says he is interested.
And I realize why, or at least part of the reason Father must have agreed to keep Lucian from me. Now, I have a child of my own, and I understand what Alec means. My guts squeeze uncomfortably.
There are innocents. I imagine someone coming after Lucian. Or after Melissa, and blood sings in my veins. Rage and the need to hurt anyone who comes even a step close to them wishing them harm.
The discussion is still swirling around me when I hit a fist into the table. All their eyes snap to mine. Good. I like to know all the authority is still mine.
If I don’t hold onto it with a tight fist, I have no doubt it’ll slip right out. ‘We’ll wipe out the Russians. Very soon. But not the family.’
‘Then it is not an extinction.’ Matthew glares at the glass before him.
I nod. ‘Yes. But they will be too weak to fight back. That’s what we need. It will be fun to watch them watch us win.’
Smiles break out on their faces. Sick men.
I push my chair back and pick my gun off my table, waiting for my brothers to leave their seats, so we walk out of the meeting with a united front as we always do when outsiders are present.
‘If anything changes. There will be another meeting. Until then, stay safe in the streets. Every man under one banner.’ I conclude the meeting and walk away, stopping at Sandro’s chair to knock the gun against his knee. ‘Get that cleaned. An infection really isn’t necessary in these hard times.’
I stroll out of the room, already fishing my phone out of my pocket to check if Mel has called. She hasn’t. I totter between calling her or not and decide not to.
I slip the phone back into my pocket and step out of the small house. The sky is still dark, hanging almost to the earth, swollen like a pregnant woman.
‘You didn’t have to be so harsh, Xander.’ My brothers have grouped around me. Alec stops beside me and watches the sky just as I am.
‘Was I? The Famiglia is the priority.’
‘I worry about you,’ Knox says. He stops beside me, but unlike Alec, he keeps his eyes on mine.
I fix a harsh stare on him and lead them away from the door towards the back, where we will have more privacy. Ryder follows, ‘What is this? A blame party? I will do all I can to inspire confidence in myself. They will not look and find me wanting.’
Declan heaves a sigh. ‘We should return to the house. Today has been a long day.’
‘You can leave. I will stay a bit longer.’ I haven’t had any time to myself since the news spread. There were calls to field, men to placate, and fires to put out.
‘Is that safe?’ Knox worries at his bottom lip.
I shrug and walk further down. The trees lining both sides of the walkway sway gently in the breeze, whipping through the air. ‘Does it matter? Anyone who attacks me would have to be plenty stupid. And Ryder is here.’
‘We’ll stay with you.’ They range around me, and together, we drop to the floor, sitting on the grass with the wind whirling around us, our shoulders pressed together. So long as I know I have them, I know it’ll be fine.
My phone thrills in my pocket, and a slight smile curves my lips. I reach for the phone and find a message from Mel.
Coming?
It’s simple and straightforward, and I jump to my feet. My brothers roll their eyes almost in unison.
‘Guess we’re leaving then.’ Knox drawls wryly.
