She’d trailed off, so I’d prompted her, soothing her with a tender touch while keeping her caged against my chest, blocking her view of my phone. Tell me what happened.
I tried to pull my mom’s autopsy and the arson report, and they were missing. How could they be missing? The D.A.’s office said something about losing the files, but how could they lose the files about the mayor’s wife’s death? I wanted to prove to myself that she died in an accidental fire, but now I can’t. I can’t prove that my father is innocent, Max.
I spoke once more, urging her to fully implicate him in his crimes. Do you believe that your father is guilty of everything I’ve told you?
I believe it.
I’d made sure to edit out the three crucial words that’d changed the tone of her answer: I don’t want to believe it.
My mission was finally coming to completion. I had the blackmail tape I’d wanted to record on the night I’d first kidnapped and interrogated Allie.
By the time the recording finished, my father was leaning forward in his chair, eyes glinting beneath lifted brows. “What is this?” he demanded.
“It’s Alexandra Fitzgerald confessing that her father is allied with the Bratva, and that he buried the truth about his wife’s murder in order to save his political career. This is the real reason I started a relationship with her. I’m going to take this recording to Ron Fitzgerald and use it to blackmail him. If he ever tries to come after our family again, I’ll leak it to the press. Once he knows I have this, he won’t dare challenge us. We can rebuild our business, retake our territory, and he won’t use his power as Mayor to stop us. He’ll make sure law enforcement turns a blind eye.”
Abruptly, my father stood. Despite the fact that we were the same height, he seemed to tower over me. I resolutely ignored the warning prickle at the back of my neck and stood my ground.
He kept me fixed in his inscrutable black stare for several long, awful seconds. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. This wasn’t the reception I’d hoped for at all. For two years, I’d envisioned his approval, possibly even pride. This cold mask made my stomach twist in knots, and it took the strength of my rage and defiance to hold my head high.
Finally, he stepped away, severing the terrible tension between us. He crossed the study and went to his large mahogany desk, opening the top drawer.
I almost took a step back when he pulled out a knife. The handle was ornate, silver carved in swirling patterns that I could barely discern in the dim, flickering light of the fire. The blade glinted when he withdrew it from its leather sheath.
His eyes slammed into me as though he’d driven the knife between my ribs. My entire body locked up tight, and sweat dampened my ruined brow.
Each step he took toward me mirrored the thundering beat of my heart. When he stopped just on the edge of my personal space, he finally spoke. “Give me your hand.”
I prevented my fingers from trembling by sheer force of will as I extended my right hand. My father’s arm shot out like a striking viper, and he grabbed my wrist. In one swift movement, he slashed a shallow cut across my palm.
I bit back a hiss at the sudden, shocking sting, but I stoically held his keen gaze as blood welled in my outstretched hand.
“Tonight, Maximus Ferrara, you are born again into a new life, into la cosa nostra,” he intoned with the weight of an ancient ritual. “Violate what you know about this life, betray your brothers, and you will die. Do you accept?”
My heart leapt into my throat. My father wasn’t going to kill me. He wasn’t disciplining me.
“Yes, I do,” I swore.
I was a made man. Accepted as part of the inner circle. I was more than a blood relative now; I was truly family.
My father grasped my bloody hand and pulled me toward him in a brief, firm embrace. “Don’t disappoint me, Maximus,” he warned before he pulled away.
“I won’t,” I vowed. “Thank you, Father.”
He gave me a curt nod and offered me a handkerchief. I quickly wrapped it around my hand to prevent the blood from dripping freely onto the Persian rug.
“How do you plan to gain access to Ron Fitzgerald?” he prompted. “When will the blackmail be complete?”
“Soon,” I promised. “I’ll get access to him.”
Father’s brows rose. “Through Alexandra?”
I almost growled at the sound of her name in his low, dangerous drawl. I shoved down my aggression and finished what I’d come here to do.
“Did you know that Paulie and John attacked her?” I asked. “The only reason she didn’t go running to her father is because I kept her safe. Fitzgerald would’ve destroyed our entire family if he’d found out that his daughter had been threatened by a Ferrara.”
My father’s sharp features twisted in a scowl. “I didn’t order that.”
“I know,” I said quickly. “But I want to make sure it never happens again. Allie is with me. It’s because of her that we’ll be able to blackmail Fitzgerald. No one touches her.”
His head canted to one side, studying my fierce expression. “You truly care for this girl.” It wasn’t a question.
I gave him a short nod, refusing to elaborate. Letting him know that Allie was my weakness was dangerous for us both, but I had to protect her from my cousins. I had to ensure that my father would never decide to go after her. I’d put her in my family’s crosshairs, but now I would save her from them. No one would ever harm my Allie.
After a long moment, Father nodded. “Done. No one will touch Alexandra Fitzgerald. I’ll have a word with your cousins.” The last was dark with anger.
Tension rolled off my shoulders. I’d been accepted, and my cousins were about to suffer my father’s retribution. They might be cut out of the inner circle for threatening Fitzgerald’s daughter.
I might not have to kill them, after all. Father would bring them in line.
“Let me know when it’s done,” he commanded. “I want to know once you get this recording to Fitzgerald.”
“I will.” I’d been working towards this goal for two years. I wouldn’t fail now.
I stood taller than I had since I’d first entered this awful room, and the sound of the crackling fire became white noise at the back of my consciousness.
I was no longer a failure. No longer a shameful son.
I was a worthy heir. I’d reclaimed my birthright.
Something dark and savage surged in my chest, a sense of power I’d never known before. I didn’t have to be afraid anymore. I breathed freely for the first time in years.
“That’s all.” My father tipped his chin in the direction of the door, but he didn’t sneer as he dismissed me.
I strode toward the door, drunk on the power that flooded my veins with every steady beat of my heart. I didn’t feel so much as a tingle of warning at the base of my skull when I turned my back on him.
As I walked down the corridor, my steps quickened. I could go back to Allie and promise her that she was safe. I’d ensured that she would be protected. My cousins would never dare to attack her again.
“Max.” My grandfather called after me, his heavy footsteps moving fast on the crimson carpet to close the distance between us.