I couldn’t linger on the thought, not if I wanted to keep my sanity.
Anna ripped away from Enzo and stormed toward her grandma. I kissed my mother’s cheek and gave her a shaky smile. Her eyes were puffy and red, but her expression was proud and determined as she turned to Enzo. “Why don’t you go ahead to the kitchen. The staff’s having lunch.”
Enzo nodded then glanced at me for confirmation. I gave a small nod then followed my mother and Anna, who told her everything about her new finger colors. Leonas was particularly fussy today and the moment I sat on the couch, he slid off my lap and discovered the living room. My mother had a vast collection of expensive vases and porcelain figurines and usually she followed Leonas wherever he went to stop him from smashing one of them. Today she didn’t even glance his way, which showed how shaken she was.
Anna sat happily on her grandma’s lap.
“How are you?” I asked softly. We couldn’t really talk with Anna in the room. She understood more than enough already and this situation was definitely too much for a child her age. I kept an eye on Leonas but so far he hadn’t grabbed anything.
Mamma shrugged, another thing she never did unless seriously out of it. Shrugging wasn’t something a lady should do. “I try to focus on the positive. On you and my beautiful grandchildren.”
“And Papa?”
“He’s trying to be strong for me, but for a man to lose his heir, his only son… especially like this.” Her voice died away. “What about Dante?”
I considered my reply. “He’s trying to protect the Outfit.”
“As he should. Your father and Rocco are helping him, that’s a good thing.”
I wasn’t sure really. Rocco, in particular had been trying to stir up the conflict between the Outfit and the Famiglia since Liliana ran off with Romero. He wouldn’t be the voice of reason, and my father was too shaken to make wise decisions. Dante wanted revenge. He wanted Orazio’s death, even if he didn’t say it outright, at least not to me. While I understood him, my heart was torn apart by conflicting emotions. I couldn’t bear the idea that Orazio might be caught and tortured to death for what he’d done. On the other hand, I was furious on Dante’s behalf. Orazio should have chosen another way, not the Famiglia. He knew how much Luca and Dante hated each other. It was like a slap in Dante’s face that his brother-in-law was now part of the Famiglia.
How much more would this war take from our family?
THE FIFTH BETRAYAL
Almost six years later
PART ONE
Dante
The wild laughter and screams of Leonas, Rocco Jr., and Riccardo carried into my office. Giovanni chuckled.
“Those boys are a wild combination.”
“They are,” I said.
Valentina’s voice rang out, and the screams stopped.
“Rocco’s around my age, I really don’t know how he has the energy to raise two small boys.” A hint of wistfulness crossed his face but he hid it quickly. Orazio had been part of the Famiglia for five years now. Giovanni never talked about him, unless Rocco mentioned him.
“I think they are less boisterous at home than they are here,” I said, my mouth twisting. Rocco’s parenting techniques hadn’t improved much from what Val told me. Maria often confided in her during their weekly meetups about Rocco’s lack of patience. He never hit his children or wife in front of me, fully aware of my stance on the matter. I’d tried to bridge the subject as delicately as possible without risking that he realized Maria revealed what was going on behind closed doors. I doubted it had changed much.
He considered himself strict, not abusive. I was a strict father but I certainly handled punishment very differently to Rocco.
“How’s baby number three coming along?” he asked conspiratorially.
Anna had let it slip that Val and I wanted a third baby and now Giovanni and Livia didn’t stop asking.
The bell rang and immediately silence reigned in the house.
“I think Rocco just arrived.”
Giovanni sighed. “Let’s hope he brings good news. If I hear one more word about the Camorra’s victory march in the West, I’m going to lose it.”
The rise of the Camorra in the West was a worrying development. After Benedetto’s death a few years ago, I’d thought the remaining Falcone clan spread out in the different cities would tear into each other and weaken the Camorra. And initially that had been the case, but then Remo Falcone had grabbed power and went on a killing spree. Now he and his brothers ruled over the West. They hadn’t attacked my territory yet so I had ignored them for the most part. They were volatile, brutal madmen like their father and I hoped they’d eventually kill each other off and solve the problem themselves.
When Rocco stepped in, I knew we wouldn’t hear good news today.
His face was red and covered with sweat, and the top button of his shirt was open as if he’d had trouble breathing.
I pushed out of the chair. “Rocco?”
“You should sit down again,” he muttered.
Narrowing my eyes, I walked toward him. “What is it?”
“I got updates from our contacts in Vegas and New York.” He let out a bitter laugh. “We’re being screwed over on both fronts.”
“For God’s sake, what is going on?” Giovanni said.
“Orazio has been made Underboss of Boston.”
Giovanni’s expression became stone but for briefest moment pain flared up in his eyes.
I didn’t move, trying to keep my emotions in check, even as a wave of fury rolled through me. “You said on both fronts?”
Rocco laughed again and staggered over to the desk where he dropped a few photos. His fingers turned white from their tight grip on the edge of the desk. I moved closer to get a look at the photos. It took me a moment to understand what I was seeing. A fighting cage with a blond man in the center.
Fabiano Scuderi with raised arms, celebrating a victory over a bleeding opponent.
I glanced at Rocco who looked close to an outburst. “Where was this taken?”
A suspicion was trickling through slowly. One territory was famous for their death fights.
“Las Vegas.” Rocco jabbed his finger at another photo. I picked it up and took a closer look. Fabiano had the tattoo of an eye and the knife on his forearm. The tattoo of the Camorra.
“He defected to the fucking Camorra! And that bastard Falcone took him in. First Luca with Orazio, and now Falcone with Fabiano! This must stop.”
Giovanni didn’t say anything. If my own body hadn’t gone into a sort of fury-fueled state of shock, I would have asked if he was okay. He looked pale.
“What’s he doing in the Camorra?” I asked, satisfied to hear my voice cold and smooth. No sign of my inner turmoil.
“What does it matter?” Rocco roared. “My own flesh and blood has become a dirty traitor. I want him dead!”
Pure hatred shone in Rocco’s dark eyes. But it wasn’t the only emotion I detected. In their depth, I found animal fear. What was Rocco so afraid of? His reputation? That I would remove him from his position as Consigliere because of this development? Or something else? “We have to attack the Camorra, Dante. Right away. We can’t show weakness. Luca and Remo are making fools of us. We must react. We must kill Fabiano and Orazio.”