He died, so I have to live. That’s the way I look at it. He gave his life, throwing himself across my body to protect me. That’s what I believe, even though I don’t remember. It’s the only way to explain why I’m still alive. And I’m not going to let his death be for nothing.
My hatred for this place, for all the doctors and nurses, is going to pull me through. Because I plan to walk out of here on my own two feet, and when I do, there will be hell to pay. One day, I’ll be the greatest mobster this island has ever known.
I owe it to my brother to achieve that.
He wanted to build a racetrack. I’ll build an empire.
* * *
Over the next few months,I slowly improve. The physical therapy is exhausting, but I keep at it, driven by my rage and the need to punish myself for letting Matteo die on my watch. The nurses are surprised I can even get out of bed, let alone walk. Some of them are obviously attracted to me, but I ignore it. I’m never going to fuck a nurse again. They’re all complicit in Matteo’s death as far as I’m concerned.
They gave up.
So I work, and I fight like Roberto told me to do. Get into a routine. I’m always exercising, every waking moment. If I’m not using the walker, I’m doing whatever exercises I can in my bed—leg lifts, ab crunches, even pushups. Even so, my muscle mass shrivels. I don’t care. I know I’ll get it back. When this is done, I’ll punish myself in the gym, and I’ll keep on punishing myself for the rest of my days.
Forgive me, Matteo.
True to his word, whenever Roberto visits me, he always has a glass of wine in hand. He won’t drink alone. Doesn’t let me drink either, but that’s beside the point. My other brothers and my sister visit almost daily, too, cheering me on, encouraging me. They let me know they’re here for me. I’ll never forget this. Never. Still, it’s not enough to sate the hatred I feel for the rest of the world, and for anyone who isn’t part of my family.
Nine months later the doctors discharge me and I walk out of the hospital on my own two feet. They call it a miracle. I call it inevitable. When you’re fueled by hatred, consumed by the need to hurt, not just yourself but everyone else, nothing holds you back.
Nine months. Enough time to be reborn into the underworld as a new man.
And Ihavebeen reborn. I’m ready now to do whatever it takes to see my family succeed. And I’m eager to kill again. I want people to pay for what happened to my brother. Because someone has to pay. A single death isn’t enough. A million won’t be enough.
I reach out to my associates, asking them if there are any contract hits available. They tell me that none are open at the moment, but promise to keep me in mind for future jobs.
So instead I return to the villa with my brothers and my sister. The stable we had originally intended to build has been converted into a gun range at my orders, and it’s there I practice and hone my skills. At the local gym I also switch to mixed martial arts instead of boxing. I soon earn a name for myself, with very few willing to take me on—unless they want to leave the ring with damage. I hire a specialized trainer to teach me knife fighting, but he quits after I chop off his fingers. It was an accident, or so I tell myself.
When I make a visit to the Amato estate to deliver a package from another family, I see Angela again. She’s as beautiful as ever, and I’m filled with the urge to possess her and make her mine all over again. I want to destroy her beauty, trample it into the ground, as the world did my brother. Such beauty doesn’t deserve to exist if my brother can’t exist. I swear right then that if she meets my eye I’ll kidnap her and shoot my way out, but she never looks up from her place in the garden. So I leave. Probably a good thing for all parties involved.
I decide that I’m not going to the Amato family estate anymore. Not until I’m ready to take her and kill her father. So I shave my beard.
One night, my brothers tell me they’re having problems with another jockey.
“We paid him two hundred Euros, but he didn’t throw the race like he promised,” Enrico says.
“Are you saying he fucking won?” I ask.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Enrico replies. “I found him yesterday morning and he tried to pay back the two hundred, but I told him he now owes us twenty thousand. The deadline to pay up was today, but he hasn’t shown. Probably hiding at home.”
“We have his address?” I press.
“We do,” Stefano says. “But I doubt he has the cash.”
I nod, getting up. “I’ll handle this.”
“Are you sure?” Luciano asks. He must have heard something in my voice, because he rests a hand on my thigh as if to stop me.
“I’m positive,” I tell him. “I need this.” It’ll be good practice for me, when the time comes to gun down Angela’s father and brothers.
“We don’t have to kill him…”
I give him a dark look. “I’ll decide that.”
Luciano purses his lips, then shrugs. “You’re in charge.”
* * *
