Chapter 65

The severity of the chance I'd taken grew against me. All I had was the trust of my brothers and my men to keep her safe.

In the end, this was the outcome I'd wanted. I just hadn't known the suffocating grip it would cause. It couldn't be fear. I feared no one. But did I fear for her?

I dragged my thoughts and shoveled them with murder. I sipped on red as my demon thirsted for blood and watched as my sadistic heart imagined his last name obliterated by my hands.

Soon, I promised. One by one.

"No need to stand." His palms opened.

I hadn't moved.

Giuliani slid his chair out as his eyes roamed around the table with small nods to each boss. But when he met mine, our war spoke in freedom.

The lives he'd taken.

The lives of his men I'd taken.

All for the prize he wanted, the prize I had.

I had to pick my words carefully. A strength of mine, but with him present in the same room, I had to be cautious about making any accusations.

"Where's your son?" My question was a simple thought, but my tone was the first punch I delivered, causing interest around Leandro's absence.

The first seed of many I would plant without allegations.

Giuliani's arrogant smirk and answer, his own ruin.

He never traveled without him.

"He had important business to attend to." His capo brought a wine bottle to him. He declined it. "But he sends you his regards."

"Just me?"

He chuckled and glanced around. "Of course not. What have I missed?" he asked and faced Luigi Santoni.

Luigi dusted his lips with shaky fingers and raised his glass to wash down his gluttony.

"We were waiting for you. You sure you don't want some wine?"

"I don't have the taste for wine."

"What about some cheese? How about some salami? It's seasoned to near perfection."

My eyes slid to Luigi, perplexed by how a man of his age could eat and gush over food as he did. Even startled by his fixation over a fucking charcuterie board instead of business.

A quick glance to his son, Carlo, whose eyes were ahead and away from the conversation with a tight jaw, and the more I questioned Chicago's order.

"No disrespect, my friend, but I'm only here on duty." Giuliani squared his shoulders.

Friend.

We had no friends.

Luigi leaned back, finally taking his first break from working his mouth muscles, and all eyes were on me.

I'd played over scenarios, picked and placed the right amount of information to give in front of the eyes of sin. To me, this was a simple chess game. This table was an open board. And while I was here to defend, I would be taking the first move.

"There's a threat that concerns us all as it's causing too much attention toward our organization."

Now, I had their undivided attention by taking offense. I kept my words strong, while my tone took charge.

"A target on a Zanetti, soon to be Lombardi," I quickly added, and fished inside my jacket pocket. I threw the picture that was dated a year ago, with Alessandra's face out in the open for all to see. "I took that picture from someone who took orders by an affiliated man."

Luigi shifted closer to the picture while Giuliani stayed composed. I felt Alfonzo's eyes, but mine watched Zanetti, uncomfortable by his daughter's face as it silenced the rumors into truth. Although, he was more concerned of how the revealed secrets would perceive him than the safety of his only daughter. He didn't fool me.

I turned my attention back to Giuliani.

"If by an affiliated man, you mean one of us, that's against code." Luigi's puffed lips curled.

"And punished by death," Alfonzo's words sliced in bloodthirst.

"This is a grave accusation, Lombardi," Luigi warned.

"And yet, I haven't spoken a name," I replied.

Giuliani didn't twitch. Calm, collected, and in control, he kept his posture, but the more they spoke, the more a vein popped across his forehead.

"I heard about the five deaths in your city. It made the news nationwide. Some named it a serial-killer on the loose while others called it a killing-spree," Alfonzo said next to me, stating the facts and setting the whispers to rest. "The characteristics of the victims are uncanny to your fiancée."

Giuliani broke character, I didn't.

I liked the sound of your fiancée.

"Franco," Luigi spluttered. "You must have something to say."

Cornered, Alessandra's father spoke. "Like Lombardi has said, we are at war."

Of course Zanetti's words wouldn't help me. No war was known to La Cosa Nostra, it had been private. Taken and forged without rules, until now.

"Who is it, Franco?" Luigi cut clean.

Franco Zanetti didn't answer, so I did.

"I can't prove it, yet. Which is why I've requested this meeting."

"If you can't prove it was an affiliated man, there was no base to call this meeting!" Luigi's tone raised and a bead of sweat rolled off his temple.

"It will be when our organization hits the news if the next victim is the daughter of a suspected mafioso, Santoni." My patience was running thin. "They will connect the prior deaths and tie them to hers."

"My question is, why is a woman, a Zanetti, targeted by one of our own?" Alfonzo abruptly asked, tired of the broken stories and hunting for the truth.

My eyes met his bright blues. They were wicked and demanding answers. While rumors often began with one person, the wind carried the whispers and split them. When they arrived, they were nothing but shattered shards of information. Most far from the truth.

But I knew the tales Alfonzo had heard were untouched. I made sure of it.

Then it dawned on him.

His jaw tensed and his eyes turned to slits. Alfonzo's rigid shoulders fell back onto the chair, and he faced ahead.

"Giuliani, you haven't said a word!" Luigi's face matched the color of his wine.

"I'm just as surprised," Giuliani spat.

"Was there ever a deal made between New York and Los Angeles?" Alfonzo fueled the match I'd lit, and chaos ruptured through.

I held my smile and watched how the order crumbled. The curtain pulled from the sham as egos and lies collided. The fatal and unspoken slaughter that hung above, and the trigger-finger tics that begged to deliver bloodshed.

Curse words flew around the stiff pressure in the air, and our men grew tense as the sway of deadly outcome creeped.

Luigi's hands shook out over the table to cease the madness, but his weak muscles gave up to their weight, and he shouted, "Basta!" Enough.

Zanetti sat back. Indignation and anger clouded his eyes as his mouth opened in disbelief by the brutal truth out in council.

Giuliani stood rapidly, and his chair scraped loudly against the floor. A well-acted performance as his face flared in rage, offended.

"I will not sit here and be accused of any of this nonsense." His palm hit the table.

"I hadn't done such a thing. I asked a mere question between bosses," Alfonzo said, unbothered.

"But it brings allegations!" Giuliani flung back. "This is not the way of council, and disrespect comes with a price!"

Luigi sat quietly, his eyes swinging from one head to another, watching, listening, taking it all in. His closest ally, Zanetti, had broken a vow. But the boss on his right had broken an oath. The one thing we lived and killed by, sealed by blood. It was sacred and treated as such.

Giuliani could deny it, and I had no proof to say otherwise.

He wouldn't be walking out of here alive if I did.

Dead on the spot in the back room of a winery while we sipped on its riches.

Zanetti finally spoke up. After all, he was also sitting next to the boss who'd caused so many casualties to his city. He would do anything to stop it.

"No one accused you of targeting my daughter, Giuliani. No disrespect has been made. Now, sit so we can finish this meeting."

Giuliani's eyes slid to mine. Their black bottomless pits spoke of his promises and ruthless plans he sought to fulfill. Rabid in massacre.