"What did you do?" I ask.
Gabriel shrugs. "A group of us set fire to a Malden Pharmaceuticals lab. Turned out there were a few cleaning crew guys inside. We ran, but there’s camera footage. They’ll find us, if not today then tomorrow."
"That’s what happens when you get involved with fucked-up people," I mutter.
Gabriel had a choice, so I don’t feel sorry for him. I didn’t have a choice. I wasborninto a group of fucked-up people.
Gabriel’s expression darkens even more. He lowers his head.
Then, suddenly, he holds out his hand.
"Well, anyway. Take care, Eliano. And thanks for all the fights we had. You’ve got real talent for this, even if you hate it. I’m the poser here. The fake."
I snort. "What, you? A poser? That false modesty doesn’t suit you. You’re the fastest and the best in the entire middleweight division."
Gabriel shakes his head sadly, but doesn’t explain what he means. He just pats my shoulder and says, "Good luck, Eliano. I’ll be rooting for you from afar. Probably from behind bars," he adds with a sour smile, then turns and walks away with his head bowed.
I’m left alone in the hallway with Ennio, and let out a long breath.
"I’m fucked up. Completely screwed."
He places his hands on my shoulders and says, "This could really be your chance, Eliano. Try to see it as a blessing. In September, you’ll take only one title fight with Mike. After that, we’ll fake an injury, but Rocco and Anzo will have their fix. Every Ferro has to win a championship at least once. You know they see it as part of the family’s strength."
"At least once?" I sigh. "Do you seriously think that’ll be enough? You were champion for five years straight in the omega division. Mauro’s been champion three years in a row at light heavyweight. Rocco’s been champion for five in heavyweight. And Luka’s in his fourth year at super heavyweight. Do you really think they’ll let me go after one year?"
I shrug his hands off my shoulders and turn away. I don’t want to talk anymore.
"Thanks for the encouragement, but I can't see any way out of this shit," I say, throwing the words over my shoulder. "I’m going to be buried in it until I die."
Unhappy and furious, I walk off.
If I don’t find a way to escape this damn family, I’ll end up with a bullet in my head. One I put there myself.
I move down the corridor, and the two damnsoldatiimmediately fall in step behind me, shadowing my every move.
They escort me to the parking lot where the Ferro limousine waits.
Anzo and Rocco are already inside, and I pull a scrap of fabric from my pocket and clamp it between my teeth. I know what will happen once I get in the car. And it does.
The moment I sit in front of Anzo, my body jerks from an electric shock, my punishment for not being good enough. As I spasm and shiver, the cold, narrowed eyes of Rocco study me with a sadistic grin.
Finally, my body relaxes and slides down to the limousine floor. I wish I could escape, disappear, become nobody, be free.
Be normal!
But no one leaves this family without the capo’s permission. It would take a miracle, and I don’t believe in miracles.
PART ONE
SALT
Sadly, getting revenge on Senu’s murderer has to wait. I end up behind bars, and I don’t even have a solid escape plan yet.
The first few days after my arrest are an emotional mess. My head’s so full of shit I can barely focus. Not on the defense my public defender keeps pushing me to work on, and definitely not on figuring out how the hell I’m supposed to escape.
When it gets dark in my cell, I sob quietly so that nobody can hear me. Losing Senu hurts like hell. It feels like someone ripped a hole right through my chest.
But prison isn’t a place where you can really let yourself grieve. There are interrogations, meetings with my lawyer, paperwork, all that crap. It keeps me on edge all the time. And the stress is so bad it kind of shuts everything down. No chance for the ‘natural process of mourning’ and ‘coming to terms’ with his death.
