Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
He looked away and focused on Lamorgese, who was still busy breathing through the pain. I had hit him hard. I would have smiled if lack of oxygen hadn’t made my vision turn dark at the edges.
“It’s the Capo’s decision,” he pressed out as a doctor rushed his way. My knees grew weak, and I would have toppled over if Eduardo’s iron grip hadn’t kept me upright.
“Death would be too easy, don’t you think?” Falcone drawled. He took a sip of his wine, then hit me with a cruel smile.
Eduardo loosened his hold enough so I could breathe, but not enough that I could escape.
After the doctor had given him an injection, Lamorgese straightened and pushed the doctor away, his eyes full of feverish hatred as they settled on me. “You’ll spend the rest of your miserable life regretting this.” He motioned at the knife sticking out of his side. He turned to my father, who scowled up at him.
“There’s a special place in hell for traitors,” my father spat.
Lamorgese cackled, then winced and held his side, his skin turning ashen. “We all go to hell, Romano. You’ll be happy to know I’ll make sure your son’s life is pure hell so he comes prepared for what comes after. I don’t have time to extend the same courtesy to you. A king has to die so a new one can take his place.” Two men jerked my father to his feet, and Lamorgese sliced him open with a gleaming blade from sternum to his pubic bone. For a moment, nothing happened, and my father simply stared in confusion. Then he arched forward, and his bowels tumbled to the floor with a resounding splash.
Bile flooded my mouth in a wave, but I swallowed it down, even as my eyes began to burn fiercely. I wouldn’t give any of them the satisfaction of seeing me break, but I couldn’t stop useless tears from filling my eyes. I wasn’t even sure why. My father had never been good.
A shriek sounded. I turned toward the sound in time to see Amelia bent forward and throwing up my expensive birthday dinner on the hardwood floor. She looked stricken and on the verge of a mental breakdown. She retched again and heaved up bile. Tears streamed down her face as she glanced from the bowels to her father, then to me. Her dress was bloodred, and I was sure Lamorgese had chosen the color intentionally.
I held her gaze.
Had she known about this? Had she overheard her father whisper about the conspiracy? Had she looked into my eyes knowing I’d die tonight?
I’d enjoyed talking to her. She had seemed like one of the few people I knew who wasn’t fake. Her smile had felt honest, kind even.
“Kill the rest. Everyone who’s loyal to Romano, except for the boy,” Benedetto Falcone ordered. “Someone needs to torture the rebellious glint out of him.”
Several traitors grabbed the captives, jerked their heads back, and sliced their throats. They killed my uncle, my pregnant stepmother, my aunt, my cousins, and the people I considered allies and friends in that fashion until the gurgling of their blood-filled throats echoed in the ballroom. My only consolation was that I didn’t see Niccolo among the dead.
Amelia sank to her knees. She kept her eyes on me as the last gurgles of the dying filled the room, as their bowels covered the floor, and their blood snaked toward us like tentacles. Eventually, the red liquid reached my shoes. Amelia shoved to her feet before the blood could touch her fingers. Her eyes held compassion and horror. I wanted to believe that she was innocent in this, that one person was still alive who hadn’t betrayed my family or me.
Eduardo dragged me down into the basement of my home. I had only recently been allowed to set foot into this part of the house. My father had a panic room, a room for questioning, and a vast chamber with several cells down there. The few times I had been allowed to visit the basement, the cells had been empty.
When Eduardo shoved me into one of the cells, my legs caved, and my knees collided with the bare stone floor. Immediately, the stench of old blood, urine, and sweat wafted into my nose. The stench of fear and misery.
I whirled around to face Eduardo and glared up at him. “You filthy traitor.”
“I told you to run. I didn’t want it to end like this, Nestore. Your father, yes, but not you.” He backed out of the cage and closed the door with a clang, then locked it with a key. “There’s nothing I can do for you now.”
“One day, I’ll come for you,” I growled, focusing on the anger simmering in my veins instead of the fear bubbling in my stomach. I wasn’t a stranger to pain. My father was quick to snap and had tried to harden me for a future as Underboss, but deep down, I knew what Lamorgese had planned for me would be far worse.