A deafening silence envelops the room before there’s a rush of sound and movement as people react. Vitale’s supporters rush to help, and our supporters make it impossible for them to move an inch. Vitale flails noisily in his chair to properly face us, but before he can gather his thoughts, I take aim and shoot out both his knees.
It seems fitting, considering he did just that to my mother first, and then my father as he ran to her.
Activity explodes. Some people try to run from the scene, others are drawn closer. Certainly, there’s an upswing in noise and aggression, but a lot of it comes from De Luca supporters who make themselves known.
They were hidden in plain sight as guests and staff, but not anymore.
Legos and Leon stroll through the rising panic to the doors leading back to the foyer. They open the doors wide, letting more people in, including Carlos and Gina, who lead more De Luca loyalists. The people currently filling the room are the very ones Vitale exiled after he murdered our parents.
My stupid fucking grandfather should have killed every person associated with the De Lucas, because now, they’ve had time to let their hatred fester.
His death from a hundred different hands would come from each of the people he had exiled, after I delivered a few harsh realities to our grandfather. The moment is also a chance for us to show those who stayed true advocates that we would be men of our word.
Dante and Matteo hold Vitale down, pinning his arms to the armrests on his wheelchair, so Matteo can remove the ostentatious Cosa Nostra ring Vitale wears to define him as Boss of this territory.
Of course, Vitale had swapped out the traditional, simpler design given to him by the Don of the Cosa Nostra with one bathed in diamonds. Matteo lets the ring bounce over the floor to land in plain sight of our guests. The message of what we think of Vitale, and him as our Boss, is as fucking disrespectful as it is dramatic. But so fucking satisfying to see.
Legos and Leon signal the next phase of our reclamation by snapping their heels, similar to how soldiers do when they come to attention in a parade. The sharp crack of their shoes is done with intentional pomp and ceremony.
The guest about to walk through the doors has Matteo, Dante, and I placing our weapons on the table and bowing our heads in respect.
It is our welcome for the Don of the Sicilian Cosa Nostra. The Boss of us all.
Inviting him was done out of utmost respect, but it was also done on a promise we made on our first return to Sicily after our parents were murdered. He wouldn’t help us, he wouldn’t interfere, but when and if the time came and we were successful, he would attend.
Unlike Vitale, the man currently walking through the doors is a man true to his word. He is fair and honorable, but also appreciative of the money we withdrew from Vitale’s hidden bank accounts, returning the money to him, where it belonged.
Don Calogero Salvatore is a powerhouse. Energy ripples off him, and his presence literally rips your submission from you. I provide my wife a steadying hand when he comes nearer, but his Alpha presence is having a similar effect on a lot of our guests.
Don Salvatore spits at Vitale’s feet as he passes and waves his hand in Vitale’s general direction, effectively terminating him of his position.
“It seems a new dawn is upon us. One which some people always knew would come, while others seem to have completely miscalculated.” Don Salvatore’s English is nearly lost under his Italian, but everyone is so engrossed by what he’s saying, they understand.
The Boss of all of us stops in the center of the room, waiting for me and my pack. I interlace my fingers with Layne’s, and I’m nearly distracted by her again.
Her respect toward Don Salvatore is obvious, but at the same time, she maintains her focus on our pack. She reaches for Dante, then Matteo, and soothes each of us with small touches and tender smiles before she stands shoulder-to-shoulder with me in front of Don Salvatore.
“My wife, Don.” I hold her hand up to him, and his blessing comes instantly. He doesn’t ask her name, nor does he talk in English to her. I will translate his welcome for her later.
Once he finishes, my wife takes a step back to allow Matteo and Dante into the small circle, where the change of leadership, from Vitale to me, will happen.
Don Salvatore speaks only in Sicilian. His words are loud enough for the room to hear, except at the very end, where his voice dips low. He doesn’t disguise his targeted threat toward our wife if we betray him in any way.
We knew his threat would be a part of this. It was our way in the world we lived in, but still, I find myself vibrating in rage andready to rampage. Layne settles the storm inside when she rests her hand on my lower back.
Once he’s done threatening us, he faces the people again and says a few extra words before sliding the plain gold insignia ring into place on my finger.
One of Don’s Capos steps forward and passes a knife. I sink to one knee before running the blade over my palm and bleeding on the floor in front of Don Salvatore’s shoes. The rough interpretation of the gesture—I will bleed for him. When I bow, he places a hand on my head, pushing me down farther, which, for an Alpha, is fucking offensive and actually physically painful, but my submission to him is vital.
He closes with a handful of words, officially sanctioning and endorsing my new role before walking out and leaving Pack De Luca in control of his empire in this country.
What happens next is unnecessary, in a sense. The ring on my finger is as loud as me having a billboard above my head, but at the same time, the slaying of Vitale and his supporters is as important as Don Salvatore’s endorsement.
49
Layne
The scent of Valentine’s blood has my Omega brain going ballistic. Perhaps that’s the only reason I catch the smallest movement in my peripheral.
