He lets out a breath that sounds like it’s been locked inside him for years.
“For the same reason I didn’t tell anyone,” he says, accent once again gone, voice low and tired. “I wanted to live a normal life here in the Valley. I didn’t want to be Don Moretti to you. I just wanted to be Maverick.”
“I’ve got one question,” Spike says, lifting Riley’s hand to his face…grounding him. “Did you ever betray us? Use us? Spy on us?”
Maverick meets his eyes without blinking.
“Never.”
And I feel the truth in it. Every damn syllable.
“From the second we became friends,” he continues, “not a single piece of information I learned inside this compound left my mouth. Not to the family. Not to anyone. The only people who knew of your existence were Luca and Enzo. And they only knew your road names.”
“He speaks truth,” Luca says firmly. “We didn’t even know where to find you. The attack… it happened during shift change. Our phones were inside the house. We jumped in the car with nothing. We only knew you were somewhere in Palm Springs, and we had to stop twice for directions.”
He looks at Maverick with genuine fear.
“Don has never spoken a word about your club’s operations. And believe me, I have tried to get details. He nearly shot me for it.”
I smirk, thinking of the many times he’s almost shot me for annoying him.
Maverick just stares straight ahead, hands clasped tight, jaw working like he’s keeping himself from falling apart.
And that’s when I see it…The Don.
Not the outlaw.
Not the drifter.
Not the funny, dangerous bastard who pops in with half-smiles and cryptic advice and then vanishes for days, sometimes weeks, at a time. I see the man who runs a fucking empire. I see the mob boss for what and who he is.
And yet, here he sits, completely exposed and willing to accept fate as the Shadows see fit.
“I only ask one favor before you kill me,” Maverick says, looking Spike dead in the face, voice steady. “Let Luca leave. Let him take revenge on the bastards who killed members of my family.”
“Don.” Luca steps forward immediately, horrified.
Maverick lifts a hand, and Luca freezes.
“You will not interfere,” he snaps, the Italian slicing hard through the American. “You will stand as myconsigliere…my second…and you will witness my execution like a fucking Mafia soldier.”
Luca’s eyes go glassy. “Don…please.”
“You will NOT seek revenge on these people… myfriends.”
Maverick’s voice is hard as steel.
“You WILL honor the contract I signed. And you WILL help them destroy Los Fantasmas. Do I make myself clear?”
A heartbeat.
Two.
The man looks like he’s breaking open, piece by piece, but he still manages a sharp nod.
“Sì, Don,” Luca nods. His voice trembles, but he holds his ground. “But… if they are your friends, they will not—”
He hesitates, then switches languages, voice low and pleading.
