Chapter 29

"I heard a few whispers."

"Do tell," I deadpanned.

"Another hit. Soon."

The whispers had just reached him and were delayed. They were a fact.

"You're a bit late, Zanetti."

"So they are true."

"Yes."

"And Alessandra?"

"Safe."

Silence.

This time, I filled him in. It wasn't about liking him; it was about numbers. And a dead Aldo did me no good. Because soon, he would take his father's seat.

"It has started." The shifts of power and old alliances breaking. The roots of all wars. "I suggest you huddle up," I dug.

"I'm not hiding." His tone deepened.

"It doesn't seem like you will need to. Miami will be taking the hits."

"What do you mean?"

I contemplated on how much I should share. He already knew about the first body, the resemblance to his blood, and the suspicions I had. This second body confirmed it.

"Your sister is the target."

A gutting pressure rose as my words were spoken out loud. No longer a thought but a statement. One that rattled my demon and my emotions to trigger madness.

"Should Alessandra-"

"Don't," I cut him off.

"It's a smart move, Lombardi." I heard his frustration, but I couldn't care less.

"She will not be leaving the city." Not for New York, not for another country, state, or home. Alessandra would still be hunted, and the possibility of being found without me wasn't something I was willing to entertain.

"Fine."

"I must go," I said and hung up. There was nothing else to say.

"Massimo?" Elio snapped my attention, and I caught the small twitch of his jawline.

"Yes."

He stayed silent, surprising me. Elio didn't hide from me, not his thoughts, his actions, or his unwanted advice. Even as his boss, Elio had always been the least afraid of repercussions. As a brother, he was the most vocal to express his displeasure even if he knew it would cause a reaction from me. Our brotherhood was unconventional. We would kill for one another, but we wouldn't speak of our bond. None of us four did. It wasn't needed when trust and respect were our language. Show over tell.

But I had been keeping him in the dark since I made the vow to marry a Zanetti. Only Leonardo could see right through it.

I didn't speak of the past. Never allowed it to resurface. Why would I? I was past the point of breaking, I was numb, and all I ever felt was rage. I fed off the power, fed off the chaos I caused. Fed in the pain and the feeling of control.

The past created who I was.

"You know I detest hesitation." I fucking did. "Speak freely."

His grip tightened around the steering wheel. Not once did he glance my way. Annoyed, he shook his head.

"I hope she's fucking worth it, fratello." His disgust was made known.

"Careful," I warned. Alessandra was a subject that was well mixed with the past. "Don't forget our brother was in the line."

"And yet, I know that's not all the truth there is."

I trusted Elio with my life, but could I trust Alessandra's to him?

"She will be my wife, Elio. Soon your queen, I need to know she will be safe with you."

Elio scoffed, "Don't question my loyalty."

Good.

I could tell him to give her time. Talk about how great she is. How I care about her. Maybe then, he would see more of her than her last name. But I couldn't because I didn't.

"Please!" I relished the cries of the man before me and wondered how loud they could reach.

Sweat and blood poured down his beaten face. One of his eyes had grown shut as his nose bled in its bent position. His buddy next to him had passed out from the pain Elio had inflicted long ago, and the cries of one man were no longer enough to pacify my need.

I wanted to hear them both until I grew tired enough to silence them all at once.

A pool of their blood mixed below them as they sat bound in tight ropes. The kind that would bruise and mark their wrists from their struggles. The same way the body of the dead women bore.

"We didn't know she was yours. Please! I beg you!"

I shot his knee cap.

"Ahhhrr!" He sobbed and thrashed in pain, causing the feeble chair to wobble.

"I don't think you are understanding." I lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and put it out on his body before I placed the bloody butt in my pocket. "Don't beg."

The smell of burning flesh filled the tiny square kitchen. Its foul smell matched the filth they lived in. Empty cups of instant noodle soup were scattered throughout the floor. Trash overflowed over the can, and not one single dish had been washed. The rodents had grown accustomed to our presence, to the screams, and now waited patiently for the food we were preparing.

Blood decorated the aged lace curtains in red polka dots over the sink. Grimy vinyl floors bathed in warm blood, and as I looked around the space painted in my favorite color with a smile, I liked the new updates to the home. It had become one of the messiest jobs in a while. They would be left here, nothing would be cleaned, and I still wouldn't be tied to it. There was always a risk, which was why we didn't work this way anymore. Why we left with no trace, but this was meant for a message.

The passed-out body had grown pale, relaxed, and immobile. Perhaps he finally bled out. With a quick stare at Elio and a nod to the ash-colored body, Elio inched closer and pressed his gloved fingers to his neck.

One second, two seconds, three seconds

His name was Jack. Born and raised by a mother who cared more for a needle than the endless children she birthed. Like many of his siblings, he'd run straight for the life on the streets. Quick cash, endless highs, sexual diseases, and crime.