Page 13 of And Twice as Twisted (Agostino Crime Family #4)

MARIO AGOSTINO

I destroyed my family. Me.

All the years I’d spent fighting to be the most powerful man in New York. All the blood and sweat I put into owning the mafia. For what? It was gone in the blink of an eye and my children were paying the price.

Octavia. My sweet, sweet Octavia. It was a silent agreement in the family that she was to be protected. My youngest girl was too good-natured for the world she’d been born into. Far too loving and kind to be the daughter of a mafia boss.

Each of my children inherited something from me. Each with a personality trait or strength that was a direct reflection of one of mine. Except Octavia. She had her mother’s kindness and generosity. But where my wife was fierce, Octavia was submissive.

She was the good all of us wish we could be—the gentle part of our bullet-riddled lives. I’d made the tough decision to marry her off outside of il famiglia. I thought a normal life would be better suited for my girl, away from the blood and destruction.

Instead, she was targeted for her softness.

She was targeted because anyone on the outside looking in saw she was the weakest link in the family.

Without a doubt, Octavia knew her mother and I would die for her.

Everyone knew her mother and I, her siblings, we’d all burn the world down to save her.

And now, her abduction was causing complete discord in my ranks. In my heart.

And then there was the package.

My daughter’s innocence coating the bedsheets. They’d taken what didn’t belong to them. And I could only hope I got her back in one piece. My lack of sleep was messing with my head.

I’d built this empire on broken bones, gallons of blood, and a pile of enemies. All so my family could have everything. Instead, it was taking everything from me. Her bloody sheets and the broken voice telling me she didn’t want to come home. Those were my undoing.

Thirty years on top of an organization such as this came with its crimes. Came with its blood, blackmail, and death. I thought my empire was untouchable. But the higher you climb, the farther you fall. The slightest misstep sent you spiraling.

They had me exactly where they wanted me. They were targeting my children and I was dancing with every tug of my strings—all while praying for them to take my life and spare Octavia. Yet it wasn’t the screams or the blood that had broken me.

It was the call.

I stared at the phone, silence stretching behind heavy breaths.

“She tastes so good. Her tears are sweeter than any candy. Her cries are a soft symphony. And her blood, it’s like a drug, giving me the best high with every drop I take.”

The whimpers in the background sent me to my knees. “Tell me what you want!” My chest heaved and my heart felt ready to explode. “She doesn’t deserve this.”

“I know.” There was a moment where I thought he’d return her to me. The conviction in his voice gave me hope. “That’s why I’m hurting her. It’s you who deserves to feel helpless, to know your daughter is in pain because of your choices .”

“Do you want my city? I will hand it all over if you give her back to me… alive.” I gulped out the last word.

“Funny you should say that, Mario. I’m going to take your city.

I’ve already started to siphon your power without you even knowing it.

I don’t need your daughter to claim your empire.

” A chain creaked in the background. “I took her because I wanted her. Your city under my control, your demise at my fingertips… it wasn’t enough.

I want it all. I want to watch you fall apart, knowing she’s mine. ”

“She’s not yours!” I slammed my fist into my desk, the decanter of Scotch rattling with the force.

“Now, now, calm down. You don’t want her scared of you too, do you?” No, what I wanted was his blood. “Octavia, sweetheart. Do you have something to tell Daddy?”

I swallowed audibly. Hearing my daughter whisper to him set my heart on fire. I’d die a thousand deaths to get her back.

“Daddy.” Her soft voice came on the line and everything around me disappeared.

“Octavia, baby. Are you okay? What has he done to you?” Too many questions bubbled to the surface. “I will kill him for hurting you. I know it’s a lot, but you can survive this. I’m coming for you, Octavia.”

“You can’t save me, Daddy. Octavia is dead.” It was her confidence that made me falter.

“Don’t say that, baby girl.”

“Say what? The truth? If it didn’t happen now, it would later. I know, Daddy.” When I didn’t respond, panic seizing my brain, she laughed humorlessly. “You were going to pass me off, hand me over to someone else because I was a problem you didn’t want to deal with anymore.”

“No, baby girl. No. It wasn’t like that.” How did she know about her arranged engagement? “I wanted to protect you. I wanted to save you from this life.”

“Because you think I’m weak. You all do. You’d rather dismiss me than believe I can hold my own.” Her sigh was beyond pained. “None of you have ever seen my strength, because I promise you I’m strong.”

Tears burned my eyes and acid swirled in my throat as I shouted my own promises to her. Promises that I’d do anything for her. I had no idea where she was or who had her, but I needed her to hold on.

“I’m not coming home, Daddy.” My heart stalled in my chest. “He will never let me go.”

“Octavia, don’t say that.” I threw a glass at the wall, the shattered pieces glittering in the light.

“It’s the truth.” It came out as a whisper, a sound that would haunt me until I died. “Tell the family I love them and that I will be fine. But, Daddy, I need you to let me go.” She whispered in the background before disappearing.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” My throat was dry and ached as I shouted. “Take me instead.”

“But this is so much more fun. Octavia, say bye to Daddy.” He toyed with me and my palms itched to kill him.

“Stop worrying about me, Daddy. Find peace in the fact that I am strong enough to handle him. I love you.”

I struggled with words as I threw out every expletive in both Italian and English. What had he done to my beautiful daughter? Why didn’t she want to come home?

“Maybe you should’ve protected her better. And I’m not just talking about from me.” The anger in his tone forced me silent. I felt as if he was trying to send me a message, but I couldn’t understand it.

My daughter asked me to let her go. She’d rather stay with the enemy than her own blood. He was right. This man had wanted to take everything from me and he’d succeeded.

“That’s not going to help.” My eldest son loomed in the hallway outside my office.

He motioned towards the glass of Scotch I’d filled to the brim.

The alcohol barely took away the unpleasant memories anymore.

Instead, it offered me a numbness that allowed me to detach from my surroundings. A reprieve if only for a little bit.

As my son—who was an exact replica of me at his age—glared at me in disapproval, I wanted to scoff in his face. “Just wait until all this is yours, then talk to me about my vices.” I stood and made my way to the window, smiling as I watched my wife wander through her gardens.

“What was it like?” Lucky stood at my side, posing an innocuous question, but one I understood held much deeper meaning.

“Not like this.” I motioned around the room. “I came from nothing, had nothing other than an Italian name. I killed, I lied, and I fought dirty to get here.”

“But you had Ma’s softness to protect you.” We stared at my beautiful wife, the mother of my four children, the woman who had single-handedly brought me back to life over and over again.

“Even that wasn’t easy. Or, back then, enough. I loved another woman, but your grandfather forced me to choose: love or power. I couldn’t have both.”

We never hid the truth from our children.

From a young age, they all knew there was a very good chance I would arrange their marriages.

Just like my own father had done with me.

While I was the one to get my hands dirty to amass my power, it was my father who had built alliances.

Isabella’s family came from old money with even more valuable connections.

Seraphina, Bella’s mom, did not. We grew up together, our bloodlines fighting amongst each other to get the upper hand, but our love wasn’t enough.

“I hated her for it,” I whispered, watching her smile as the wind blew her hair around her. “I resented that she stood in the way of my claim for power.”

The beginning of our marriage was anything but blissful.

It was filled with constant bickering, a lot of tears from my wife, and terrible words and actions from me.

When the walls came crashing down around us, she was the rock that built me back up.

I promised I’d spend the rest of my life making it up to her.

I lied. I cheated. I went behind her back and brokered deals that her father would have been less than pleased with.

But she protected me from him, time and time again.

She knew she had as little choice in the marriage as I did.

But if she was going to be forced to marry a monster and become queen, she’d do it her way. And she did, gracefully.

“When did it change?”

Isabella waved when she noticed us watching her.

“When you were born.” I motioned for my son to take a seat, realizing this conversation was long overdue. “When she got pregnant, we’d been at each other’s throats for months. I hated that I was building a life with her, with someone I thought I could never love. When, in reality, it was because—”

He smirked, the apple not falling far from the tree. “You did love her, but it wasn’t your choice, so you fought it.” He laughed, knowing all too well how that could’ve easily happened with him and his wife. But my son was a far better man than I ever was and would be an even better king.