It takes some time, but Donno divulges his full list of misdeeds and the outcomes, in excruciating detail. It’s clear that he’s been carrying the guilt of his betrayal for some time. And he should be.
He’s had a hand in everything. From Dante’s wife and her sister’s brutal assault to their sister Livvie’s kidnapping, from Marco’s wife Karina’s abduction to the appearance of the armed thugs who crashed my wedding reception, not to mention the Bellanti warehouse fire my brothers and I had assumed was Candi’s fault and countless other aggressions. The raid setup that nearly killed Dante. The tampering to Marco’s race car that made him crash during a race. The death of our employee Monica.
Pretty much every catastrophe that has hurt or compromised my family and our livelihood over the last few years came from intel that Donno fed to the Brunos.
“I never meant it to go this far,” he says. “It started out small. Jobs your father was lining up, horse races he planned to fix. Once he died, it…it turned into something else. I got in over my head.”
Anger heats my face. “I’m shocked we’re not alldeadbecause of you. What the fuck did you think Bruno was going to do with the information you were spoon-feeding him?”
“I fucked up.”
“You did. Fatally.”
He closes his eyes. “After Enzo died, I panicked. I had debts to pay and you and your brothers wanted out. I thought, how was I going to keep getting my cut? Your dad always gave me a share for taking care of things, you know. But I gambled a little. Made some enemies. Couldn’t afford to pay back any of that if my cut wasn’t coming no more. Bruno knew I was in a bad way. He—he said he’d make it all go away if I agreed to work a little harder. Dig a little deeper for him. So. That’s what I did.”
“You sold us out.”
“I didn’t want to,” he says.
“But you did all the same.”
The worst part is, my brothers and Iwereout. We had stepped back from our father’s illegal activities after his death—no, murder—and had agreed to go legit and transition our family business to wine and wine alone. We had every intention of parting ways with the mob once and for good.
And then, suddenly, shit started hitting the fan. We found out our father’s car accident was no accident at all. Then Marco’s car got rigged, Dante’s wife was threatened, and shady characters started popping up. When Dante found out Frankie was pregnant, and realized that the future of the entire Bellanti legacy was on the line, he pulled rank as the head of the family and formally exchanged our loyalty for the continued protection and support of our mafia allies. It was the only way to keep us safe.
It’s only now that I’m realizing the full extent of the forces that had been at play. It was no coincidence that the threats started piling up at almost the exact same time my brothers and I decided to get out of the life. Because that was exactly when Donno began feeding the Bruno beast, giving those fucks all the ammunition they needed to make a strike. Which means this man, who I’ve known my entire life, who I’ve trusted for decades, is responsible for bringing us back into the fold.
“You forced us back into the mob.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to.”
“YOU forced us back in. Fuck!”
Standing, I snake a hand through my hair and pace in front of him, trying to calm down.
“What ever happened to loyalty, Donno? Huh? What about that?”
“I fucked up, Armani. I said I did.”
“You helped start awar. Now tell me about the fucking Bratva.”
His brow knits. “The…Bratva? What’ve they got to do with this?”
Pissed, I draw my Walther and aim it at his head. “Don’t act like you don’t know! The Brunos are forming an alliance with the Russians. I want to know when that contract is being signed.”
I flick off the safety, my finger firm on the trigger.
“Armani,” Dante calls. “Wait.”
Without taking my eyes off Donno, I say, “Fuck waiting. Talk, Donno. The contract.”
His wrists are bound to the arms of the chair, but he manages to put his hands up slightly in surrender. “I swear I don’t know. Bruno don’t tell me nothing. He takes what I give him and pays me.”
Dante pulls me aside. Tucking the gun away, I dip my head as he speaks in my ear.
“If all the shit that’s happened is on him, what about Candi?” he says. “None of this was her.”
“Which is what I’ve been trying to tell you,” I say. “No matter. I’ll sort it out later. Let me clean this up first.” I’m about to turn back to Donno but pause. Is Dante actually trying to defend my wife? “Why do you care? You hate Candi.”
