Chapter 3 - The Viper in the Garden
Lorenzo didn't draw his gun.
He was too smart for that.
He knew he was surrounded by my personal house guards,
men who,
for now,
still followed my orders.
He took a seat opposite my desk,
crossing his legs as if we were discussing wine.
"You're being emotional,
Antonio."
"A weakness we discussed many times."
"The boy is a threat to the stability of the family."
"If the other families find out a Caruso heir survived,"
"they will use him against us."
I looked at the man who had been my mentor.
"You didn't do it for stability,"
I said.
"You did it because you wanted the throne."
"You thought if you killed my brother's line,"
"I would be the last one."
"And when I died,"
"you would step into the vacuum."
Lorenzo laughed,
a dry,
raspy sound.
"I’ve been the one running this empire while you played the grieving Don."
"I made the deals."
"I buried the bodies."
"I am the reason you're sitting in that chair."
I leaned forward,
the barrel of my gun resting on the mahogany.
"You are the reason my brother is ash."
"You are the reason those children were starving in a church."
"I am the Don,"
"and I am ordering you to stand down."
Outside,
the sound of shouting erupted.
I heard the distinct crack of a rifle.
Lorenzo’s smile returned,
sharper this time.
"Did you think I wouldn't have a backup plan?"
"My men are already moving on the dining room."
"The boy dies tonight,"
"along with the maid,"
"and perhaps an aging Don who has lost his nerve."
I lunged across the desk,
grabbing him by the throat.
"You think my men will follow you?"
"I am the blood!"
Lorenzo choked out a laugh.
"Blood is just red water,
Antonio."
"Gold is what they follow."
"And I have been paying them much more than you have."
A flashbang detonated in the hallway,
the white light blinding me for a split second.
I felt Lorenzo slip from my grip.
He was fast for an old man.
Bullets began to rip through the walls of the study.
I dived behind my desk,
shouting into my radio.
"Beatrice! Status!"
Static filled the air,
followed by the sound of rapid gunfire.
"We’re pinned down!"
she screamed.
"They’re coming through the windows!"
I felt a rage I hadn't known in decades.
It wasn't the cold rage of a businessman.
It was the fire of a protector.
I stood up,
ignoring the lead flying around me,
and began to return fire.
I saw one of my own lieutenants,
a man I had fed for ten years,
aiming at me.
I didn't hesitate.
I put a bullet through his forehead.
Betrayal has a specific taste,
like copper and bile.
I fought my way out of the study,
down the long corridor toward the dining room.
The mansion was a war zone.
Priceless vases shattered.
The smell of gunpowder replaced the scent of expensive cigars.
I saw Beatrice at the end of the hall,
crouched behind a marble statue.
She was empty-handed,
having thrown her knife into the throat of a mercenary.
She reached down,
picked up an AR-15 from a fallen guard,
and began to systematically clear the room.
She was a goddess of war,
shrouded in the dust of falling plaster.
"Where is Leo?"
I roared.
"In the kitchen!"
she shouted back.
"The pantry is reinforced!"
I ran toward the kitchen,
skidding on the polished floors.
I saw three of Lorenzo’s men trying to kick in the heavy oak door.
I didn't stop to aim.
I ran at them,
firing until my slide locked back.
They fell in a heap of tangled limbs.
I hammered on the door.
"Leo! It's me!"
The door opened a crack.
The boy’s face was pale,
but his eyes were steady.
He was holding a kitchen knife.
"You came,"
he said.
"I told you I would,"
I replied,
reloading my weapon.
"Now, stay behind me."
"We're leaving this house."
May you like
"It’s no longer a home."
"It’s a tomb."
