Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Running in the direction of the bar, I dart down a hallway before shoving the door open to the manager’s office. I shoot inside, and when I shut it behind me, I suck in deep breaths of air.
“Mr. Tanaka?” the manager asks as he quickly rises to his feet to bow to me. “What can I–”
I point to the door. “Fight. People are injured.”
“Kuzo,” he curses, immediately rushing out of the office and leaving me alone.
I can’t believe that just happened.
Kentaro, you stupid bastard!
Chapter 4
Augusto
With rage burning in my veins, I stalk into the hospital in Tokyo, and while Enzo makes a beeline for Gianna, who bursts out in tears as she slams into his chest, I ask, “Where is Riccardo?”
“This way,” Gianna says, looking shaken up as she leads us to an elevator. “I’m so relieved you’re here.”
Enzo places his arm around his sister and presses a kiss to her temple as we climb into the elevator. Christiano couldn’t come and sent Enzo, who’s also his underboss, in his stead.
Raffaele and a team of guards stay out front so they can keep an eye on who comes and goes, while Lorenzo and two of his best men accompany us.
We step out on the fourth floor, and by the time we reach the private room Riccardo is in, I’m struggling to control my destructive emotions.
Every muscle in my body is coiled tightly, ready to attack. Stepping inside the room, my eyes instantly lock on my brother, where he’s lying in a bed with machines hooked up to him.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
A fresh wave of rage skyrockets through me, morphing into a monstrous need for revenge.
It took fifteen hours to get to Tokyo, during which I easily lost ten years of my life.
As I stop beside the bed, my baby brother opens his eyes, and seeing how weak he is from the gunshot he suffered to his chest has me seething with anger.
I clench my jaw as I lean over him, resting my one hand beside his head while I brush my other palm over his hair.
“Hey, Ricky.” I haven’t called him by his nickname since he finished school. I take in every inch of his face, his skin ghostly pale. “How do you feel?”
“Like shit,” he answers weakly, and it takes a brutal swing at my heart. “But I’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”
Knowing our parents are worried out of their minds, I take out my phone from the breast pocket of my suit jacket and FaceTime Mom.
The screen fills with our parents' faces, and Dad asks, “Are you with Riccardo?”
“Yes.” I turn the device so they can see him and hear Mom gasp before she bursts into tears.
“How are you doing, son?” Dad asks, his voice hoarse.
“I’m okay,” Riccardo replies, sounding a little stronger. “Don’t worry so much. Gianna is spoiling me with attention.”
“Augusto, you’ll deal with the Yakuza,” Dad orders.
I turn the screen so they can see me as I vow, “I’ll make them pay.”
“You do that.” Dad’s eyes lock with mine, and I read the unspoken words.
Make them suffer a thousand times more than Riccardo is suffering.
I nod at Dad, then say, “I have to go. I’ll check in with you later.”
“I love you, boys. Stay safe,” Mom says.
“Love you, Mom and Dad.” Riccardo sounds exhausted.
I give Mom a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got this.”
We end the call, and as I tuck the device back into my pocket, I meet Riccardo’s eyes and order, “Tell me everything.”
I carefully sit down beside him and take his hand in mine.
“We went to a club,” he says, sounding breathless. “Molecule. There were Yakuza members.”
Gianna comes closer and lovingly brushes her hand over Riccardo’s shoulder and down his arm while saying, “A man kept staring at me, and when Riccardo asked him to stop, one of his guards started looking for trouble. Things escalated. They were armed, so I’m thinking it’s their club, seeing as they were allowed to carry weapons.”
My gaze connects with my sister-in-law, and I soften my tone as I ask, “Anything else?”
She nods, looking too vulnerable for a Cosa Nostra princess.
“The guy who kept staring at me tried to grab hold of me after they shot Riccardo. I slapped him, and he disappeared afterward.”
My phone begins to ring, and I dig it out of my pocket again. Seeing a familiar name, I quickly answer, “Hey, Rosie.”
Dario La Rosa, one of the retired heads of the Cosa Nostra, trained his daughter well when it comes to hacking, surveillance, and tracking. At the age of twenty-one, she’s such a valuable asset to the other four families. We’d be lost without her.
“How’s Riccardo?” she asks.
“He’ll be okay. Did you find out anything?”
“I was finally able to hack into the club’s security cameras. I’m sending you the footage. The guy who shot Riccardo is already dead. His name was Sho Otake. The one who started the fight is Kentaro Araki.” She pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. “The third guy is Ryo Tanaka. He's the son of Masato Tanaka.”