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“But it could fall off during fighting.”
“Of course, but until then, let’s use it to your advantage.”
The moment I began sparring with Fiorentino, it became apparent how determined and well-trained he was. There was still room for improvement, but he was better than many of the other boys here today.
I gave him a pleased nod as I pulled him to his feet after I’d thrown him to the ground. “Good work. Now show me your knife skills.”
His hands shook as he took the knife from me, but after a few deep breaths, they steadied, and he hit the target with his first throw.
When I was done with him, I motioned for the next recruit to step forward. Fiorentino moved on to the shooting area.
After an hour of testing fight skills, I moved on to the questioning. It was a crucial skill to protect secrets.
It was the turn of one of the boys who had shown lacking fight and knife skills. Despite this, he acted with utter confidence, even arrogance. He was the son of a Captain and probably considered himself above failure.
I nodded toward the chair in the center of this area, and he sank down on it with spread legs. “You know the rules. If you say stop, it equals breaking your vow of silence.”
“Got it.”
It didn’t take much for him to scream stop at the top of his lungs. My knife had left the shallowest cut in his arm, nothing that should get any kind of sound out of him. I tried a few other things, but it became apparent very quickly that he was incapable of tolerating a decent level of pain. He was useless for our purposes. If he had shown promise during fight training or knife skills, I might have considered allowing him to move on, but as it was, he needed a few more months to harden up. “Right now, you’re not ready to continue the initiation process. Train with your father and come back in six months.”
He staggered to his feet, his face turning red as he glanced around at the whispering recruits. “I’m already sixteen! I need to become a recruit.”
“Not with the skills or lack thereof that you displayed today,” I said simply. I didn’t like the challenging gleam in his eyes one bit.
He pointed at Fiorentino, who waited for his turn. “It’s not fair that someone like him becomes part of the Outfit, and I don’t.”
I grabbed him by the collar and glared down at him. “Then get a grip and stop bawling like a fucking pussy because I cut you.”
“It’s a stupid test.”
I shoved him to the ground. “If you can’t protect the Outfit’s secrets with your fucking blood, your fucking life, then you arenot worthy of becoming a Made Man, understood? You can’t even begin to understand how little pain you’ve experienced yet. If you want to know real pain, then read the autopsy reports of the soldiers sent back from Camorra torture. And now get out of my sight, or I’ll give you a real taste of what torture looks like.”
The boy’s eyes grew wide. “My father will disinherit me if I don’t become a part of the Outfit!”
His father was Captain. His son had no chance of becoming one unless he improved drastically over the next months. Maybe one day, he could become a lowly soldier without any secrets to protect. “Then your father should have made you stronger.”
I looked down at his spiteful expression and hoped he’d keep whatever he wanted to say to himself. He scrambled to his feet. I turned to the next recruit. The boy spat in front of my feet. “At least I’m not fucking a cripple.”
“Oh shit,” Geno muttered.
I barely registered the unified intake of breaths as I lunged at the asshole. He had no chance against me as I slammed him to the ground. “Hold his tongue for me,” I snarled, overcome with utter rage. How dare he use that word?
Geno got down beside me, and with the help of another soldier, they extracted the boy’s tongue so I could cut off the tip. His eyes shot open as blood spurted out, and he screamed. He was lucky I didn’t rip his entire tongue out. This way, he could still speak.
I rose to my feet and stepped back, breathing harshly, then held out my knife toward one of the boys. “Clean it.” He took it and dashed away toward the sinks. “Remove this worthless piece of shit from here and tell everyone that I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting my wife or using that fucking slur.”
Geno and the other soldier yanked the boy to his feet and dragged him away. Had he thought not being a Made Man and only sixteen would protect him? I had tortured people youngerthan him. This world didn’t protect you only because you weren’t an adult by outside standards. I would never allow anyone to talk about Emma that way.
“Mr. Mione, your knife,” a familiar, slightly slurred voice said. I glared at Fiorentino, still riled up, but he held my gaze until I took the knife. “Do you want to go next?”
Fiorentino swallowed but nodded. I motioned for him to move toward the chair so Geno, who was back, could shackle him to it. He had to step over the blood puddle on the floor that nobody had cleaned yet.
Dad stepped up to me, his expression unreadable. “Do you want me to take over?”
“Worried I’ll hurt them too much?”
Dad regarded me closely. He didn’t know I still had nightmares about Domenico. He stepped back. “I’ll return to the shooting range.”