Page 7 of King of War

Chapter

Three

ENZO

Ifind my brothers in the penthouse suite of our family’s hotel. Rafael is sprawled on the sofa, tossing a ball into the air and catching it repeatedly, while Luca stares out of the window.

“Is Micah in his office?” I ask them, more to get their attention than an answer. This hotel is Micah’s domain, and he is always in his office. Like me, he buries himself in his work, but him because he loves it, and me… Well, it offers me the kind of oblivion I crave. And there’s literally nothing I’m better at than taking out other people’s trash.

“Where else would he be?” Rafael jumps up from the sofa.

Meanwhile, Luca turns around, every movement slow and deliberate as usual. “What did Carmine want?” he asks, voice gruff from lack of use.

I jerk my head in the direction of Micah’s office, indicating they should follow me. Luca eyes me with suspicion, which I get. While it’s not often my brothers visit the don’s house with me, it is rare that he insists on speaking to me alone. Yeah, I work for the don, we all do, but we have our own business interests to handle too.

Micah is on a call when we walk inside, and he quickly ends it. His eyes narrow on my face, as suspicious as our youngest brother. “Why did Carmine want to see you?”

Micah and Luca won’t like this, so best to just spit it out. “He wants the Bertellis handled.”

Micah leans forward, rests his elbows on his desk, and steeples his hands beneath his chin. The slightest twitch in his left eye is the only sign that he’s annoyed. “Handled?” His tone remains cool and calm.

I nod and drop into the chair opposite his desk. We all know there’s only one way Carmine Falcone handles people. “Did I stutter?”

“No, but did he? I know the guy is getting old and senile, but seriously, Enzo. He wants to take out a made family? Has he been tested for any signs of cognitive impairment recently?”

Rafael snorts a laugh. “Like that egomaniac would ever agree to anything like that.”

“He was being facetious, Rafael,” Luca says.

Rafael snarls at him. “That’s a real big word for you, baby brother, and you haven’t even had your meds yet.”

Luca simply flips him the bird.

“Can you two not?” I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

“Did you agree to do it?” Micah asks, bringing the conversation back to the relevant issue.

I shrug. “It’s kind of my job, Micah. What the fuck was I supposed to say?”

His expression remains neutral, but his nostrils flare slightly. Now he’s really pissed. “You know that you owe him nothing, Enzo. You don’t have to remain loyal to him. He is nothing without you, and everyone in this city knows it.”

“His reach goes beyond this city. He is the don, and that means he has people in places that I simply cannot be sure of. I can’t take that chance, so I will owe him for as long as he keeps his promise. And so far, he has.”

Rafael perches on the edge of Micah’s desk. “It’s been six years, Enzo. Why do you even give a fuck anymore?”

My hand darts out, wraps around his throat, and squeezes. It’s all instinct, honed for years by the kind of rage that changes a man’s entire being. “As long as I am breathing I will give a fuck, Rafael.”

His deep-brown eyes smolder with fury, but he doesn’t attempt to free himself from my grip. Not all of his anger is directed at me, I know. She was like a sister to them, and they were all hurt. “You’ve done more than enough.”

I swallow past the knot of grief and guilt and let my hand fall from his neck “It will never be enough, Raf.”

Micah clears his throat, dragging our attention back to the shitshow at hand. “So Carmine wants the entire family handled? That’s seven men, Enzo.”

No shit, Sherlock. Oscar Bertelli, his two sons, and four nephews. I can do math too. But I recognize that as my anger speaking, and that isn’t anything to do with Micah, so I keep that thought to myself. “Yeah, all of them.”

“There will be fallout,” Luca says quietly. “They have a few loyal men.”

“Not to mention, a sister and wives who might be hellbent on revenge,” Rafael says.