Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I glanced over at the De Lange men not so casually watching.
Phoenix excused himself from the room. “We can end here, Junior, you know what to do.”
I was ready to hand the knife back, but when the metal soundproof door clicked shut with such damning finality, it was hard to breathe. Junior’s head tilted to the side, sizing me up, eyes narrowing, a cruel smile spread across his face. “If you want to prove you’re De Lange, you have your chance, you either rise or you fall, what are you going to choose, because everyone in this Family must make a choice, rise out of the fire or be the fucking one who caused it.”
“You don’t need to rise if you’re already there, I’d rather start the fire and watch the world burn.” I knew what I had to do.
Because Junior simply smiled and stepped back as if to say, do the honors, I beg of you.
I refused any more hesitation and took the knife from him and walked behind the guy on his knees. His gag was shoved so deep into his mouth he had spit soaking it, tears ran down his face, it was hardly recognizable. He wasn’t just stealing money; he was selling drugs laced with Fentanyl, something our Family never dealt with—at least not anymore.
The De Langes, for the most part, ran clean businesses now.
But there was always one outlier. In every walk of life, you would always, no matter what, find the one person who thought they were the exception, not the rule.
Note, Exhibit A.
He stared up at me, his dark eyes were lost, and when he looked around the room for support that I didn’t see and felt every single man look away.
I’m sure he had accomplices, people who earned money from him, but he was the fall guy.
I leaned down and whispered in his ear, “The only way out is death—say hi to my father.” I slit his throat as fast as I could, warm blood spilled over my knuckles as he toppled forward, staining my white converse and blue jeans.
“Clean up.” Junior tossed me a towel. “Marco, you take care of the rest with Tank.”
I walked past him, then Phoenix, who gave me a blank stare before taking the cement stairs one by one up to the top, where all the happy existed.
Family. Food. Love.
The basement was for punishment.
But the kitchen? That was all reward. It was warm there. Alive.
It reminded me of my mom, most of the memories were tarnished with blood and killing, and with that, darkness, but I still remember the smell of fresh bread.
My greedy inhale was almost too loud to my own ears.
No bread, but they were cooking something with a lot of garlic.
“Hey.” Serena, Junior’s wife, looked over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
I stared down at my blood-soaked shoes, still seeing the guy’s lifeless body and the knife in my hand, the one that took the life. “Training.” Surviving. Staying alive. Part of me wondered, was it him or me? I would always choose me.
Junior came up next to me once she turned around and drove a knife directly into my side, maybe two inches in. Warm blood drizzled down my skin while a burning pain hit so hard I almost lost composure. “Welcome to the Family, blood in…” He jerked the bloody knife away from my skin. “…no out. You’ve just been made.”
He walked over to his wife like the world was normal, while mine had just gone dark. My vision blurred. I was stained. I’d taken from this world.
Me or them.
I’d told them I wanted to be a part of them.
I didn’t understand how heavy a wish it was.
Or how dead I would already feel.
Be careful what you wish for.
Real. So real.
“Gonna go change.” I muttered and walked around the corner, where Bella nearly rammed into me. She righted herself, using my shoulders, then looked down.
We were quiet.
We were probably going to fight like we always did.
Instead, she grabbed my hand and said, “Come on.”
She pulled me into her room and sat me gently on the bed, then slowly took off my shoes and put them in the trash while I held my side, it throbbed in pain; it was purposeful, that scar. I wasn’t stupid. It was close enough to my back to remind me of people coming after me, and close enough to my stomach to remind me that some people stab you right in front of your face. It was the new way of becoming a made man, a constant reminder.
I was numb at that point.
Her eyes scanned over my jeans before she sighed and went into her attached bathroom and turned on the bath. The water could have been cold, hot, the bath could have been broken, I didn’t even care. I just existed in that moment with blood streaming, with my nerves on end, knowing it was probably the end of something and the beginning of something even more terrifying, but I couldn’t move.