Page 8 of A Madness of Crows

The bass cuts off, and tension tightens my shoulders as the seconds stretch into minutes. I force my breathing to remain steady, force any emotion from my face. Readying for whatever battle lies ahead.

Cecile listens, waiting.

“Now.”

And I’m shoved out into the room.

Day 0 – Stefano

Ishoulder my way through the raucous crowd, my head already pounding from the music. Salvatore’s men snarl as they turn, eyes glassy with drink and lust, but they soon turn away again when they see me.

Dismissive.

I’m looking for Salvatore, but I meet Dario first. Salvatore’s thin, wiry, dark-haired enforcer turns as I push past him, his nasally voice grating on my last fucking nerve as usual. “He’s busy.”

The girl he’s gripping looks like she’s about to collapse, her eyes dull and vacant. I glance over her, my lips tightening before I look back at Dario. “He summoned me.”

Demanded my presence, after the events at thecapomeeting that overturned the hierarchy of the Cosa Nostra in one fell swoop. And like a faithful lapdog, here I am.

I sweep a mocking bow. “I’m only ever at his service, Dario.”

Dario doesn’t hide his disdain. “Of course.”

None of them bother to hide it anymore.

Leaving him behind, I continue my search around the room. When I finally see him, he’s lounging in a velvet armchair someone clearly dragged in for this evening. His eyes are icy as I move to stand in front of him.

Legs spread. Arms behind my back. Eyes on the ground.

“Stefano.”

My gut churns at the glee in his voice. It’s never a good sign. When he doesn’t say anything else, I glance up. “You called for me?”

He surveys me, a beer hanging from his hand. “I did. I presume you’ve heard the news?”

I keep my face blank. Carefully so, as I turn the words over in my head. Examine them. “I was at the meeting.”

A meeting of blood and betrayal. Joseph, Frank, Paul… fucking hell. Threecapos. All of them, dead within moments of each other.

Little wonder that my uncle feels like celebrating.

He laughs, low and amused at my composure. “Things have moved on somewhat since then,nipote. Try to keep up.”

My brows draw together at that, but he waves me to his side. “Stand here.”

So, it's going to be one of those nights. I wonder who has been marked for punishment this time. My eyes slide through the writhing mass in front of us as I take my place at his shoulder. To witness.

Possibly to deliver, if my uncle is in the mood.

I don’t particularly care.

There’s not a single person in this room that I would spit on if they were on fire. Except, perhaps, those that did not choose to be here.

Although it would probably be a mercy to let them die.

When Salvatore stands, the sound dies within seconds. The music pauses, the sea of faces turning to him.

There is no adoration here. No true loyalty.