“Liar,” I say again, my finger steady on the trigger.
He comes closer and closer. I don’t move the shotgun. Finally, the barrel is directly against his chest and he takes his hands, wrapping them around the barrel. He stares at me, his eyes wide, and I think I can see tears starting to form
He speaks with his forehead pinched. “I raised you. I taught you everything I know. I turned you into a man.”
“You destroyed me,” I say.
His eyes go wide as he understands what I’m about to do. I feel hollow, nothing but empty, and the darkness isn’t there. I expected it to be, but it never appears. No anger, no emotion but an empty void. He’s nothing to me. This is nothing to me.
“Goodbye, father,” I say beneath my breath.
“Son--” The smile slips from his face.
I pull the trigger. The shotgun explodes into his chest, forcing him back. Blood splatters in all directions as his chest caves in. He slams to the ground with a single gasp, and then he lies still.
I walk over to his body, press the gun against his heart, and fire again. Just to make sure that bastard’s dead.
I stand over my father’s bleeding corpse and stare at his lifeless eyes. In all my years with him, I never once imagined it would end up like this. I always thought we’d die on a hit or rot away in prison. Never once did I think I would kill him. I never imagined I could betray him.
That changed when he betrayed me. He was dead as soon as he made that decision. Or maybe it happened sooner than that. Maybe Grace showed me what it means to be a real man, to stand up for what you believe in, to protect things you care about. Before I lived for cash and hits and that was it. But now I live for her.
My father would have gotten in the way of that. He never would have stopped trying to destroy me. And so he’s dead now, the way he wanted it to happen.
I walk over to the truck and toss the shotgun in the back. I get out my large bowie knife and a roll of plastic sheeting. I walk over to my father’s body and stand over him, taking a deep breath.
It’s time to finish this.
I bend over him and do my work.
Several hours later, I find myself driving through the dusk hours as I head out to the Romanos main compound. I don’t bother calling ahead because I know I won’t be welcome either way. I’d rather this visit be a surprise than anything else. And to get it over with now, before I go back to my princess. I know she’s worried, and I have the phone in my hand. But I can’t call her yet. Not until this is done.
The Romanos often gather in a large Victorian house sitting on two acres to the north outside of the city. It’s a beautiful little estate, probably owned by some fucking rich asshole back in the day, but now it’s used as the center of one of the most powerful mafias on this side of the coast.
I pull up to the front gate and stop. A man holding a rifle stares at me as I lower my window.
“Gio, here to see Marco,” I say.
“Who?” the man asks.
“Gio. Tell Marco that I have something for him from my father. It’s important.”
The man stares at me, then nods. He goes to his radio and calls up to the main house. After a short conversation, he heads back over to me.
“Marco says to come up.”
I nod at the man as he opens up the gate. I drive up the path and park my truck out front. More men holding weapons hang around the front. They eye me suspiciously, but I don’t care. I grab the plastic-wrapped bag next to me and hop out of the car.
“Hold on,” a thug says. “Gotta check you for weapons.”
“By all means.” I grin at him as he pats me down. When he’s finished, he gestures at the bag.
“That too,” he says.
I open it for him. He recoils at what’s inside.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Uh, shit, no.” He’s clearly shaken, and has a look of disgust on his face.
