The disrespect wasn’t going to go unpunished by me.
We had a “treaty” with Lev and his crew. Even beyond that, Lev was a secret branch of his government, and it went far beyond what anyone knew. Lev and his men only went by numbers, mostly, and to the world they didn’t fucking exist. Unless they did. And if they did, a person was in deep fucking trouble.Ifother underground operations knew their name—the Seven Deadly Sins—they were in fucking deep too.
My old man growled low in his throat, as if he had read my mind, our thoughts processing at the same time as we came to that thought together.
Lev had recruited Iggy. And the situation between my wife and I with Iggy was playing out like it had been between mamma and papàwith Lev, and Lev was feeling fucking nostalgic. I wasn’t sure how far Lev would go for Iggy, but given that conclusion, I knew he was going to fight to keep him alive.
When I started a war over my wife, Iggy was the man I would demand to meet on the battle ground, and the Russians might not feel it was a war worth starting. If that was not the case, I wasn’t sure how this was all going to fucking play out for my brother, Maestro, since he was engaged to a woman who belonged to them. The entire focus of that time had been keeping my sister safe. My grandfather wasn’t going to dishonor his word, but to what extent would he feel this was my right to defend my wife’s honor? The disrespect had been done to me the moment Iggy crossed the threshold—crossed a line that disrespected me.
If I went against my family’s wishes, I would have to stand against my brothers if they sided with the family. Marciano—on the fence. He’d mull it over until all the facts were presented, or his instincts spoke to him. I believed Maestro would stand with me. He always chose his siblings; that was why he was marrying a woman he had never met. Lev had information on the people who had been threatening Mia’s life, and he demanded a trade for it. That trade was Maestro agreeing to marry the mystery girl.
Matteo.
We would go toe to toe.
He wouldn’t jeopardize his place in the family for anyone but his wife.
Not only would I be sparring with enemies, but my own fucking brother—he would become my greatest foe. Somethingour parents worked extremely hard to stop before it even started.
In the Fausti family, the two oldest brothers usually had a tremulous relationship. Most of the time, the two oldest sons were close in age, like Matteo and me, and it caused a rift that usually couldn’t be mended. Power in our family was as natural as breathing, and when men of my blood felt as if their air was thinning, they would become ferocious to take another breath.
This was partly why our parents encouraged my siblings and me to do things separately. At one time, I had been Matteo’s shadow, and he was a stringent motherfucker even back then. I had found fulfillment in many things, but he had only found it in the Fausti family. His focus was clear. Mine was blurred—I could do, so I fucking did.
Until my wife.
The door opened to the gym, and male family members invaded our space. We had a meeting planned with my grandfather in a short time.
My father looked at me, and I knew the words inside of his head before he even said them aloud.
“Do not be fucking hasty, my son,” he said in Italian.
I nodded, acknowledging that I understood, and he turned his face forward.
It had to be fucking tough to be him. In one light, he was looking at me like the son I am to him, knowing, as a father, that his sons might be at war amongst themselves. In another light, he was looking at me the way he would have looked at himself back then. He wouldn’t have given a fuck, blood or not; he would have gone after the man who had done the same to his wife, the chains of the family rattling with strain as he exploded out of them.
Marciano came in howling at Mac. “No way you could be confused for a coyote,” he was saying.
Mac shook his head.
Rio grinned. “No fucking way.”
Marciano started to hum a song and then sang it. It made sense with the conversation they were having.
If Mac was around,Padrinowas close. If Rio was close, so was Matteo. Mac and Rio were their second-in-commands. We moved in prides that way, the wheels of the ancient Fausti family turning as it always had.
In that moment, hundreds of years had passed.
And we still moved in the same way, even if the world looked different around us.
Our core values stayed the same:
Ruthless—whatever the fuck that entailed.
Romantic—whatever the fuck that entailed.
To keep both alive, a heart pumping rich blood.
“Brother.” Marciano squeezed my shoulder. “You’d like that one. It’s—” he yipped “—a country tune. I fucking dig it.” He smiled at me. “Can you dig it?”
