Page 14

His hand’s shook as he did. Naked, pale and withered, I dumped him from the chair into the hole.
“I succeeded. Don’t forget I made you in my image, Roque. I’ll live on through you.”
I handed the poker to Vito. “Make it burn again.”
“As you will,il sovrano.” He referred to me as the ruler.
Constantine watched helplessly when Vito came back. “Kneel,” I commanded.
“Fuck off.”
I jumped into the pit with the poker in hand, the tip of my boot found his ribs. Blood dripped from his mouth shortly after.
One hand moved his legs, contorting them into a kneeling position. Lowering the poker, let the tip graze his right eye. Then his left. Then I wrote my name in cursive all over thin skin on his back.
Disgusted at how he screamed, I spit on him before using the ladder Vito lowered and left the pit.
“You’re weak and screamed just like the rest when it comes down to it,” I sneered. “Enjoy the slow descent into hell, old man.”
“I’ll save a spot for you,” he rasped before I slammed the door shut and slid the bolt.
“What next?”
I turned to Geno and Vito. “We get the fuck out of Italy. Hide out somewhere. Become someone else.”
Geno and Vito left for the coast to gather my aunt and the rest of her kids. I stayed behind to pilfer what I could—guns, money, art.
I packed it all up.
Then I sat in Constantine’s desk and called a banker in Palermo. “Buongiorno. I’m calling from the Castellione estate in Lake Como. I’d like to inquire about two houses in Palermo. The old Salvatore residence and the Fiorelli’s.”
Silence greets me. “Those houses are both cursed.”
“I know.”
“They sit in ruin. Untouched tombs.”
“Who owns them?”
“The city. No one paid taxes and no one will buy either.”
Thinking quick, I scanned the amount of money in Constantine’s account, offering a quarter of it for both. The man laughed. “You’re a fool. But a rich one.”
He faxed over the paperwork the following morning. I forged Constantine’s name. Then shortly after, forged his name on a new will by delicately using a tracing technique.
Upon his death, all his riches will be left to a variety of charitable foundations.
Both houses will be given to me. An anonymous American-based foundation that was conveniently set up hours earlier now owns both properties. The foundation is a fraud. Just a name on paper, “Little Red Enterprises.”
I used Constantine’s money to pay off crooked lawyers. The ones my family used for years. They took quick money and asked no questions. Then I set up my new name.
Ralph Smith.
Bland. Utterly American and absolutely a forgettable name. Even if the remaining families came looking, they’d never find me.
Opening the briefcase Vito left, I found the vials of blood and the two teeth that each of my cousin’s extracted. Seeing a dentist later would be the least of it.
Finding pliers, I pulled out a lower tooth. It hurt like a bitch, but it was nothing compared to the torture I underwent to become who I was now. Then I collected my things and drove to where they left the car by the side of a back road. I carefully placed my tooth in the front and theirs in the back, splattered our blood and set the car ablaze. It’d look like it was a hit. Us. Constantine. His men. All of it. The families will fight amongst themselves each pointing the finger at one another while I rode off into my dark sunset for a land where I know she lives and breathes.