Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 71131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
I am whole.
I am King Campisi, Capo dei Capi to the greatest mafia generation the world has ever seen.
Del lays her head on my shoulder.
The future I’ve dreamed of—I can see it, taste it… either way, I will love her. I will love them, and I’ll give my life gladly.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“You have proved yourself worthy. Will you join me?”—‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail’, 1975.
King
“Do we have them all?” I ask from my office as Ash and Maksim walk in, the calm to my storm.
“Junior rounded them up,” Maksim says. “And Valerian and Tank have them all tied up.”
“Like Christmas,” Ash adds. “You know if you’re into just tearing all the wrapping paper in an effort to see what’s inside.”
“Blood.” Maksim deadpans. “Lots of blood.”
“Thank you.” Ash sighs. “For that.”
Maksim shrugs; his eyes are a bit different tonight, his stance is more rigid, which means I’m dealing with his intense side, which I probably need more than the funny side I’m so used to.
“All right.” I nod. “Let’s go do work.”
I walk out of my office. They follow.
We move down the hall silently and pass the movie room, where I know the girls are all having a wine night.
I can hear them laugh as we pass by. Gossiping most likely, being loud and yelling at whatever movie they’re watching.
I don’t have to ask to know it’s something that’s making them argue—then again, the girls always argue just like us guys always fight.
It reminds me of what I was born to protect and what I was born to do.
I am the Capo, and I will protect what’s mine.
After a brief pause, we go down the stairs and finally find ourselves in the soundproof room where we’re holding six Buratti men along with two informants from the Petrov Family that decided to jump ship.
The De Lange trainees are standing along the sides of the room—watching, learning, waiting.
They watch us learn how to rule their own Family.
And I’m happy to show them how it works as Maksim shuts the door with finality.
My brothers and I stand there, powerful, so powerful that it can drug you in a way that’s negative, not positive.
But our power comes from the women upstairs. It comes from the blood running through our veins.
It’s about family.
Not absolute power.
So when I look at the men tied to the chairs in front of me, it actually makes me sad that they never got what I got, what my cousins and friends got.
Family.
“Ready for you,” Junior says, stepping away.
Valerian scowls at the men from the Petrov Family, then looks to me and says, “May I have justice?”
I nod.
In one swift movement, he takes a blade to each of their throats. They bleed out before they can take their next breath.
He wipes the blade on his black trousers and steps back, waiting for my next instructions.
Half of the men are wailing, the other half crying.
Betrayal, however, will not be tolerated.
So I look to Ash, Maksim, Tank, and Roman, who’s also there, and say, “Silence them.”
Valerian smiles and elbows me. “You didn’t say please.”
I know it’s his way of lightening the mood, but death will always be death, and I’ll always carry that burden, carry the torch my dad has given me that I will one day give one of my children.
I truly don’t wish it on anyone.
But I will own it. Take it. And I will make sure everyone in our family is safe.
Blood is spilled, but it must account for the blood that is stolen.
We leave that room minutes later as we call for a cleanup crew, and as we all join the girls in the theater room, pour drinks, eat food, and hug our wives or girlfriends, I realize that it’s worth it, it’s worth it to save what’s good.
And what I see, standing around me, as a smile forms across my face, may not be perfect.
But it’s so good.
“Hey,” Del elbows me. “You okay?”
I grab her wine and sip out of the glass. “Yeah, but I could be better.”
Her eyes narrow. “How so?”
I lean in and bite her ear, then give it a small tug. “Oh, just… tired.”
“Same,” she says right away, putting her wine down and escaping the room with me.
By the time we’re in the hallway, her hands are everywhere tugging at my shirt, and I’m already lifting her tight-knit dress.
We stumble into a spare bedroom. She slams the door closed with her foot while we tumble onto the bed; our lips meet, and I’m again at peace with what I do and what I’ve done.
I command the Families.
They go through me.
And I keep everyone safe.
Blood in. No out.
Epilogue
“People think that I must be a very strange person. This is not correct. I have the heart of a small boy. It is in a glass jar on my desk.” —Stephen King