I know Seb had his reasons, I’m not saying he should have accepted the marriage deal. But the way he refused it must have been pretty harsh if Coretti is still this pissed at him. Diplomacy isn’t one of Seb’s strongest suits. Finance is, though. He’s always had a knack for economics, money management, stakes, and holdings. In his twenties, he invested some of the family capital in different companies, which quickly expanded into the market sectors, increasing their profitability. Now he is an executive and major shareholder of a company conglomerate. He has quickly moved the Leone family into the twenty-first century, hiding our illegal deals behind legitimate—borderline ethical—work. We are still thugs—thank fuck—but with nicer suits and a legion of lawyers. And that’s why Enzino wants to take us out. We are becoming too powerful for his liking, especially after we started shaking hands with outside gangs.
“All Jack Enzino actually wants is to be the only boss left, to beil capo dei capi,” Seb says, reading my mind.
After Don Massimo died, Seb was supposed to get it. The title comes with a majority of votes; the bosses of each family decide who becomes the big boss. Seb had that majority, but before the voting could happen, Enzino asked for a mourning period to let the people adjust to Don Massimo’s abrupt death. Bullshit, the vile snake had a plan all along. During themourning,the bosses of two families—Cerruti and Esposito—died. One in a weird boat accident, and the other just dropped dead. I knew it was Enzino’s doing. Everybody suspected him, but there was no proof. He then proceeded to destroy what remained of the Cerruti and Esposito families and, through intimidation and blackmail, took their turf, gifting some to Coretti. A fucking bribe if you ask me. The snake was already working to get the other boss on his side. He would’ve killed him as well if Coretti weren’t a recluse with very strong connections through his late wife to the Mexican cartels.
“This is too messed up for Jack Enzino. The way the murder was conducted makes me think about someone else,” Seb calmly adds, staring at my face. His eyes move to the long scars there.
“Mario Enzino,” I spit the name out like I would bitter poison.
All the hate that has been growing inside my chest threatens to spill out as a growl filled with fury rips out from my chest. I want Jack Enzino dead at my feet, but his son? He needs to suffer ten times more, to feel my rage through my sharp blade while I carve it on his brain, so deep I’ll reach his soul until all he sees and hears and breathes is my name. He created this beast that craves blood, screams, and the suffering of others. It scratches and claws at my insides. It hungers for Mario Enzino.
Seb’s hand falls on my shoulder, reminding me of Don Massimo’s soothing pats. The familiar gesture placates some of the beast’s raw fury.
“It’s possible, but improbable,” Marco states. “Mario is a fucking psycho, but after the mess with Fly, he disappeared. He isn’t in New York.”
A month ago, after fighting with Marco, Fly was kidnapped by a man in Mario’s crew. Luckily, that fucker didn’t get his hands on him before Marco arrived and saved him. Mario escaped and is in hiding, but the good news is that I can kill him now since he knew Fly was under Marco’s protection and let one of his men take him anyway.
“His brother, Arturo, helped us find Fly. Their friendship seems legit since he went against his family,” Seb says.
I’m still trying to find a reason behind the brat’s behavior. Does he expect something in return? A favor? Protection when his house is crushed and burned? Fat chance! He’ll be charred meat like the rest of them.
“He doesn’t seem to be interested in the family,” Seb adds. I can see the wheels turning in his scheming head.
I sniff in disagreement as Seb gestures for us to walk back the path we came from. “He’s going to marry Coretti’s daughter, which meansheisfucking interested.”
“What’s with the continuous changing of the wedding date?” Marco interjects. “Maybe the little prince got cold feet?”
Since he’s queer as a rainbow, I can see the possibility.
“No. Arturo was on board with the marriage from the beginning. There were rumors that Coretti’s daughter was involved with someone else, but she’s ready to tie the knot now. Word is it’s a power struggle between the dons,” Seb lets us know. He has informants on the inside—in every crime family, gang, andcorporation, apparently. Enemies or allies, doesn’t matter. In true boss fashion, he needs to have control over everything, no surprises.
“Coretti is asking for more out of the marriage contract, and Enzino is not liking it much,” he finishes.
I bet. Coretti is an old fox, made from the same cloth as Don Massimo.
“What’s our next move?” Marco stops near his car as we reach the parking lot once again. Drops of rain start coming down, which is a good thing. That, combined with the early morning spring bite in the air, will keep people away from the park and the moving of the corpse. Not that they would dare to talk. Most of them know who we are and stay away.
“Next move is the kidnapping of Arturo Enzino.”
Seb’s words reach me slowly, as if my brain is giving me more time to savor them. My palms start itching at the prospect of finally having an Enzino in my grasp. Doesn’t matter which one. The whole family is rotten to the core.
Seb looks straight at me with a commanding gaze. “You’ll take him to one of the safe houses.”
“Can’t I just kill him?” After a deep interrogation—as deep as my knives can reach.
“I need leverage with Coretti.” Seb wipes all my gory fantasies away with a few words.
Fuck!
“Isn’t it risky to let Coretti know we have his future son-in-law?” I try again, flexing my fists. “Especially now.” I point at Carloand Jo loading the black plastic bag containing the dead body into Marco’s car.
“I won’t tell him we have Arturo; we will make it look like he ran away. The rumor will spread like wildfire—I’ll make sure of it—and the marriage will be put on hold. Coretti will be displeased with Enzino, and that’s when he’ll want to talk to me.” Seb’s machinations always go his way in the end, but the journey to get there is usually studded with a few unpredictable thorns.
“So, I can’t kill the brat. But I can hurt him,” I state, feeling a shiver of pleasure running down my back.
“Not too much. Fly is quite attached to Arturo,” Seb reminds me. They became friends when Fly moved to New York to find his brother.
“Fuck no! Hurt my Butterfly in any way, and it will be Chicago all over again,” Marco uses a threatening tone.
