Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“In your father’s time, the Bratva would have never dared to attack the Vitiello mansion. They showed respect,” Gottardo said. His eyes held contempt. He still hated me for having crushed his son’s throat six years ago, but my cousin got what he deserved for trying to kill Matteo and me to improve his position. If it had been up to me, Gottardo would have shared his fate. I still doubted Gottardo hadn’t been involved in any of this. Father had believed his claims of innocence for whatever inexplicable reasons, but I distrusted the man. If I had to make a bloody statement to establish myself as Capo, I’d start with him.
“My father got hit in the head by a Bratva bullet. How’s that showing respect?” I asked in a deadly voice as I stepped to the front of the table. I didn’t sit down, wanting them to crane back their fucking necks to look up at me. Let them see who ruled over the city now, who ruled over them. I didn’t give a fuck if they were happy that I was Capo at only twenty-three. I’d kill every fucker in the room if it meant I stayed in power.
Matteo shot me a grin. He’d taken out his knife when Gottardo had spoken and was now twirling it around in his hands, his feet propped up on the table. He definitely would appreciate a bloody statement.
Gottardo and my other uncles slanted him nervous glances. They would have never become Underbosses if it weren’t for my father. The other men who’d earned that position, they were the ones I needed to convince of my capability, because they held their soldiers’ respect.
“You need to send them another message,” Gottardo said sharply.
I walked around and stopped beside his chair. He made a move to stand up but I shoved him back down. “I sent them Vitali in bite-sized pieces, a letter of warning attached to his cut-off dick. I think they got the message. Question is if you got the message that I’m your Capo, Gottardo.” He had to crane his neck all the way back to meet my gaze. Then it flitted over to Ermano beside him for help, then over to my other uncles. Neither of them made a move to come to his aid.
“You’d do good to respect your elders. Perhaps the others are too cowardly to say it out loud, but you shouldn’t have become Capo. You may be strong and cruel, but you are too young,” he muttered, trying to salvage his pride.
Matteo lowered his feet from the table, the grin slipping off.
“And who, pray tell, should have become Capo in my stead? You, Uncle?” I said in a low voice. “After all, your family tried to stop me from becoming Capo once before, and your son paid with a crushed throat for the betrayal.”
Gottardo jumped up and this time I let him. He only reached my nose, so if he thought he could impress me like that, he was a fucking fool. “He would have been a better Capo than you. I would be a better Capo. You, like your father, aren’t fit for the honor.”
“Now, Gottardo, you are talking bullshit and you know it,” Durant muttered, eyes flitting nervously between Matteo and me.
I gave Gottardo my coldest smile. “That sounds a lot like breach of oath to me. I am your Capo.”
“I never made an oath to follow you.”
Ermano grabbed his brother and tried to pull him back down, but Gottardo resisted. “Shut up, Gottardo, for God’s sake. What’s gotten into you?”
“No,” he spat out. “First Salvatore, now him. I won’t follow the orders of someone who could be my son. If it wasn’t for his father, he wouldn’t be Capo. He inherited the title but he’s not worthy.”
“If we weren’t family, I’d have cut your tongue out by now,” Matteo said as he came up behind me.
I wanted to kill Gottardo on the spot, wanted to crush his throat like I’d done with his fucking son. I was one hundred percent sure that he’d sent his son to kill me all those years ago.
I looked at each of my Underbosses. “How fast can you summon your Captains and their soldiers for a meeting?”
Mansueto, Underboss of Philadelphia, stood, supporting his weight with his cane. Since his second heart attack three months ago, he’d become a shadow of the man I’d known. His family was loyal to the bone. If he died, it would lead to more trouble. Philadelphia was important, and his son Cassio was only four years older than me. “Tonight. Tomorrow morning at the latest.”
The other men nodded their agreement, everyone except for Gottardo, who was watching me with suspicion, and Ermano who said: “It takes at least fifteen hours to drive up here from Atlanta. And I don’t know if we can fly everyone over that quickly. Tomorrow morning would be better if you intend to involve the soldiers as well.”