Page 1

Present

R uling requires intelligence and intimidation. That much I garnered quickly. My father was nicknamed the Blood King. It is a nickname I intend to live up to—even though I don’t actually remember him. Or care to, if I’m honest. I’ve got my own reasons for keeping the title in the family.

“You’re not the first dumb ass to underestimate me and you won’t be the last,” I say. Viggo Scarfo scowls at me and balls his fists until his knuckles turn white.

I’ve pushed a button. I smirk. With deliberate steps, I walk to where he’s tied to the pool table and play with the knife in my hands. My dad’s knife. A man who sacrificed everything for me.

“I can’t kill you. Yet . I know that. But I can teach you a lesson.”

“There will be hell to pay if you do,” Viggo threatens. No matter. He doesn’t understand the game because I’m changing all the rules. He’s only a Capo anyway. Sure, a Boss’s son but still.

Fair game.

“Ankles, please, boys.”

Viggo snarls at me as my two muscled goons grab his ankles, spread his legs wide and hold them down.

I kneel between his legs and stare at him curiously.

This world he’s grown up in, it baffles me.

It is so far removed from what I experienced.

They can’t predict me because I was made not groomed.

I’m not motivated by the same emotions they are.

But like all intelligent, motivated people, you do whatever it takes to accomplish your goals.

Leaning forward with a swift motion, I stab the knife just below his testicles and draw it upward, slicing between his balls.

He screams. It’s a blood-curdling sound that echoes off the walls and between my ears. Nausea bubbles in my gut at the blood leaking from him but I can’t show weakness, so I stand and briskly walk away.

Broken people are easy prey. And quite frankly almost everyone in this life is broken. Men in this life attack in packs. Unleashing punishment they’d never have the balls to deliver alone. Cowards.

All of them.

“He’s free to go,” I call over my shoulder to the two burly men restraining his legs. I quickly make my way to the bathroom to vomit.

Wait… we need to back up .

I’m afraid if you don’t understand the playing field, you won’t understand me, and I need you to. I want you to understand what I’m doing and why I’m doing it.

Before we jump into this story, I guess I need to provide you all with a little background so that you understand what I’m dealing with here. It’s not pretty and you might think you already know how these things work, but I’m going to set you up for success—not failure. I’m an optimist like that.

So, here we go.

Once, a long, long time ago four families ruled the new world.

These four families lived in different cities throughout the US, but they were all linked together by greed, blood, and a code.

They ran a clandestine operation. Mafia, or a cartel, if you must label it.

The mob, La Cosa Nostra. This is the new world though, we’re talking fourth-generation mob.

Now, a word to the wise, the mob is like a pack of New York City wharf rats.

They eat whatever’s in their path, including each other. They carry disease and malice.

Yes, they still exist.

A hidden empire.

A network of gangsters who live by a code of crime, violence, and power.

The Testa family, the wealthiest family of the four, resides in Miami. Known for controlling the shipping ports. Need cameras, computers, leather goods or jewelry? Testa’s can secure it for you. Their boss ran his family like a company. The Boss? Leonardo.

The Scarfo family lives in New York City and are the second wealthiest family. Known for controlling unions, specifically the garbage and construction industries, to the tune of millions each year. The Boss, Sal.

The Leonetti family is in Las Vegas. Known for their gambling rackets and straight-up violence. These whack jobs are unpredictable. True violent wild cards. Not people you want to piss off. The Boss, Lorenzo.

The Falcone family lives in Philadelphia. Known for their smarts. They are quiet and secretive in their prostitution and drug trafficking dealings. They keep a low profile generally and stay out of others’ business. The Boss? Enzo.

Now, when shit hits the fan so hard you can smell it, the Commission meets. These are the group of men who decide your fate. If they’re already meeting, your fate is probably of the buried-in-fresh-dirt variety. These are the Bosses, the heads of each family—the Supreme Court, if you will.

When controlling major cities in America, there are rules these families must abide by. If they don’t, well the Commission gets involved and that never works out for anyone.

Rule one: You can’t kill a Boss.

Rule two: Omerta is a code of silence you must follow.

Rule three: You do whatever you’re told or asked to do.

Rule four: All soldiers and Capos must kick up twenty-five percent of their income to their boss.

Now, if you wanted to be a hero and take down the entire operation, well… you’d have to wipe out the heads of the families: AKA the Commission. Only an insider could accomplish something like that, but nobody would be so stupid to attempt it.

It’s a death wish.

By the end of that kind of reign of terror, so much blood would be shed that oceans would be tinged crimson forever.

Now maybe you already know how these families operate (And I use that term loosely, because really, what kind of family would put a hit out on their own mother, father, son, or daughter ?) But I’ll give you an example flow chart on the off-chance that perhaps you aren’t familiar with the life.

One last thing to make clear. These four families don’t like each other much.

Hell, some of the families don’t even like their own family members.

What these people are loyal to is money and assets.

Whoever has the most is the most powerful.

So, as you can imagine, the head of the Testa family, the wealthiest family, went to painstaking measures to secure their family’s wealth.

To ensure that money stayed in the family.

He became paranoid about it. And paranoia is a chink in the armor. Success can be as dangerous as failure. He created fail- safes around his assets to keep the Testa name at the top of the food chain, so long as that food chain existed.

Painstaking measures.