Page 89

His feet go right back up on the table.

"Now, if there aren't any more objections," Genova says pointedly, "I'd like to get on with this meeting. I'm not getting any younger here."

Lorenzo laughs under his breath.

"You find something fuckin' funny about that?" Genova snaps. "What are you even doing here, Scar?"

Lorenzo hates that nickname. I can tell it by the look on his face. His lip twitches, the rest of him betraying his smile. It's frozen on his face. "Honestly? I don't know. All of this, if you ask me, is total bullshit. You're just whacking yourselves off under the table, getting off on the theatrics, like we're on fucking Broadway. Dance, little soldier, dance. It's a joke. I'll never understand it. But Ignazio here requested a meeting, and what kind of friend would I be if I didn't show up?"

He's got the others completely thrown off. They're so used to order, used to people just falling in line out of fear, that they don't know how to handle Lorenzo. He brings chaos, the kind they don't like. He's not afraid of them. They don't matter to him.

Seems Genova has nothing to say to that. His gaze yet again seeks me out. He wants this over with. He wants Lorenzo out. "What do you want?"

He's done playing games.

Done dealing with all of this.

He's just… done.

"I've been thinking about what you said to me a few weeks ago," I say. "About loyalty, and honor, and knowing who your real friends are."

Genova relaxes just a bit. "Is that right?"

"I've come to realize, thanks to you, that I can't just sit around anymore and expect things to happen… I need to go out there and go after them. I need to fight for them. And I need to show those around me what their friendships mean to me. So I'm ready now."

"You're ready?"

I nod. "I'm ready to finally see this through."

With those simple words, it's like the last five minutes are erased from Genova's memory, his irritation and impatience gone. He's getting what he wanted.

Or so he thinks.

Leaning back in his chair, he regards me with a sort of awe. "So you're ready to join us, huh?"

"I've never been more ready," I say, "to finally leave my mark."

A smile lights his face as he holds his hand out. He's reaching toward me, extending his hand, like it's an olive branch, like a simple shake is going to erase all of the hostility in the past. I look at it for a moment. I look at his stubby little sausage fingers wedged into all those gold rings. He's got no callouses, no scars, no marks… he's got blood on those hands in the figurative sense, but literally? He's probably never even shed any blood.

Reaching across the table, I take his hand. His grip is firm, forceful, like he's trying to intimidate me, like he's reminding me of exactly who here is boss. I tolerate it, tolerating his show of force, until he goes to pull away.

And that's when I'm done.

I'm done with the lies, the games, and the backstabbing. I'm done with the petty bickering, the egos, and the cowardice. I'm done with men who demand you honor family but in the next breath order the death of the ones you love. I'm done with it all, every bit of it.

I'm done with this life.

I'm ready for another.

I move fast. I don't give him a chance to react. The second he tries to let go of my hand, I squeeze it tightly, yanking his hand and twisting his arm. My free hand snatches up the pen, and I fist it. Swinging with all my might, all the force I can muster, I shove it right into his neck, stabbing him with it.

It knocks him off kilter, as I let go and instead grab the back of his head. I slam his face into the table, as blood spurts from the hole in his neck.

BAM

Reaching over, I snatch up Lorenzo's gun. The others I'm not so sure about, but his? It's loaded. He knows it needs to be when you're outnumbered.

BANG

BANG

BANG

It's like fireworks going off. The dim room lights up with the gunfire, and the three other heads of the families drop. A single shot right to the forehead, close enough blow their brains out the back of their skulls. They barely have time to even know what hit them.

Because men like them, with their cushy jobs and positions of power? They never expect anyone to be brave enough to actually take them out. Because there are rules, rules we all must follow.

You never kill a boss without permission from the others.

Genova lifts his head up, trying to react, but he's dazed from the blow, blood still pouring from the wound. He scrambles for his gun, his eyes meeting mine. Terror like no other shines from him.

He knows he's fucked.

"You owe my father ten-thousand dollars," I tell him, "but I'll take payment in the form of your life instead."

BANG

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Lorenzo shouts, his voice tinged with a sick sort of excitement as he drops his legs to the floor and sits up. "I knew you still had it in you, Ignazio!"

I turn to him as soon as he says that, as soon as the man starts to stand up. I grab him by the collar of his shirt and throw him right back down so hard the chair tips over. I shove him backward, onto the floor on his back, and hover over him. I point his own gun right at his face, my finger on the trigger, lightly pressing against it.

He goes deathly quiet, not even breathing, as he stares me right in the eyes.

In his face, I see nothing. No emotion at all. There's no fear to be found. No worry. No alarm.

It isn't because he doesn't think I'll do it.

He knows I will.

He knows I won't lose a moment of sleep over taking his life.

It's just he's empty.

He always has been.