Page 65
Story: Broken Honor
I grit my teeth, mind spinning as everything clicks into place. Of course. That’s why Bellandi showed up all smiles and veiled threats. My brothers had poked the hornet’s nest and Bellandi didn’t come to warn me—he came to make his first strike.
He’s probably been poisoning the other families for months, maybe longer.
I wanted to move slow. Get the diamonds back first. Use that capital to buy loyalty, pressure dissenters, rebuild quietly. But now—now the game’s changed. My brothers jumped the gun, and Bellandi isn’t going to sit still while I play catch-up. And I still haven’t found my fucking diamonds.
“Why didn’t any of you idiots tell me about this?” I snap.
Enzo meets my gaze, a rare softness in his voice. “’Cause you’ve been gone, Vieri. For the past few days, you’re like air.”
I pause, that one hitting deeper than I’d like to admit.
He’s not wrong.
I’ve been off chasing the girl and my diamonds. I’ve been distracted.
“Look, we’re sorry,” Enzo adds. “It was dumb.”
“I’m not sorry,” Riccardo grumbles, leaning back with arms folded.
Enzo ignores him and asks, “What do we do now? Bellandi’s probably already spinning stories to the families. And I doubt he’s saying nice things.”
“I say we do a takeover,” Riccardo cuts in. “We have the men. We have the numbers. Set an example with Bellandi. Wipe out anyone who gets in our way.”
Enzo groans. “Always your answer.”
I stay quiet for a second, then sit up straighter.
“Prepare for the dinner. Both of you,” I say.
They blink at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“Send word to Alfio and Omero. Let them know we’ve got a dinner party to attend.”
Riccardo’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re serious?”
My mind’s already ten steps ahead.
He’s not wrong—we have the muscle. We could hit Bellandi now. Blood would spill. Territory would shift. But if the other families in Italy got involved? We’d be buried. Fast.
They trusted my father. They don’t know me. Not really. Bellandi’s their bridge, their comfort. He’s the brother they grew up with, second after my father. Who could blame them for choosing him?
Violence isn’t the answer. Not now. That would feed into the narrative he’s already painting—that I’m reckless, unfit, dangerous.
No.
We win by showing them the opposite. That we’re not just violent men—we’re strategic. We’re the future. I’ll beat Bellandi at his own game.
I repeat, quieter this time, “Prepare.”
Riccardo lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “At least I get to bring a hot date.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” I cut in, sharp. “Only I bring a woman.”
Enzo raises an eyebrow, gaze shifting to the girl still cuffed to me. “You serious? Her?”
Riccardo barks out a laugh. “He’s lost it. Completely gone.”
I don’t even blink. Just watch them as Riccardo slaps Enzo on the back, linking their arms.
He’s probably been poisoning the other families for months, maybe longer.
I wanted to move slow. Get the diamonds back first. Use that capital to buy loyalty, pressure dissenters, rebuild quietly. But now—now the game’s changed. My brothers jumped the gun, and Bellandi isn’t going to sit still while I play catch-up. And I still haven’t found my fucking diamonds.
“Why didn’t any of you idiots tell me about this?” I snap.
Enzo meets my gaze, a rare softness in his voice. “’Cause you’ve been gone, Vieri. For the past few days, you’re like air.”
I pause, that one hitting deeper than I’d like to admit.
He’s not wrong.
I’ve been off chasing the girl and my diamonds. I’ve been distracted.
“Look, we’re sorry,” Enzo adds. “It was dumb.”
“I’m not sorry,” Riccardo grumbles, leaning back with arms folded.
Enzo ignores him and asks, “What do we do now? Bellandi’s probably already spinning stories to the families. And I doubt he’s saying nice things.”
“I say we do a takeover,” Riccardo cuts in. “We have the men. We have the numbers. Set an example with Bellandi. Wipe out anyone who gets in our way.”
Enzo groans. “Always your answer.”
I stay quiet for a second, then sit up straighter.
“Prepare for the dinner. Both of you,” I say.
They blink at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“Send word to Alfio and Omero. Let them know we’ve got a dinner party to attend.”
Riccardo’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re serious?”
My mind’s already ten steps ahead.
He’s not wrong—we have the muscle. We could hit Bellandi now. Blood would spill. Territory would shift. But if the other families in Italy got involved? We’d be buried. Fast.
They trusted my father. They don’t know me. Not really. Bellandi’s their bridge, their comfort. He’s the brother they grew up with, second after my father. Who could blame them for choosing him?
Violence isn’t the answer. Not now. That would feed into the narrative he’s already painting—that I’m reckless, unfit, dangerous.
No.
We win by showing them the opposite. That we’re not just violent men—we’re strategic. We’re the future. I’ll beat Bellandi at his own game.
I repeat, quieter this time, “Prepare.”
Riccardo lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “At least I get to bring a hot date.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” I cut in, sharp. “Only I bring a woman.”
Enzo raises an eyebrow, gaze shifting to the girl still cuffed to me. “You serious? Her?”
Riccardo barks out a laugh. “He’s lost it. Completely gone.”
I don’t even blink. Just watch them as Riccardo slaps Enzo on the back, linking their arms.
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