Page 141 of He Should Be Mine

It takes longer than I’d like, even with four of us working. The blood was everywhere. Riccardo didn’t die clean. But now the plastic is folded, the scrub brushes rinsed, and the faintest scent of bleach clings to every surface. The only trace left behind is the thrum of something irrevocable in the walls. In the air. In Molly’s soft, tired breath as he leans against the freshly wiped counter.

“Go rest,” I murmur to him, voice low. “We’ll take it from here.”

He opens his mouth, probably to argue, but I shake my head and touch his arm. “Please.”

His eyes soften. He nods, and drifts off down the hallway without another word.

I wait until I hear his bedroom door click shut before I turn back to the others.

“Let’s get the bastard out of here.”

Dante and Nicolo say nothing. There’s no need. They move like shadows, quick and efficient. Dante pulls a tarp from his bag, industrial strength, and together, we roll Riccardo’s body inside. He’s heavier than I expect. Or maybe I’m just tired. There’s a sour twist in my gut as I grip his stiff, icy-cold shoulders, but I shove it aside.

We seal the body with duct tape. No blood should leak, not that there’s much left. And then suddenly it is done. The body is wrapped and ready to go.

We are as ready as we are ever going to be.

I walk down to the front door and open it a sliver. I eye the hallway, then the elevators. “Service entrance.”

Dante nods. “Security?”

“The man on the desk tonight is mine. He’s not gonna ask questions.”

The three of us move in silence. Riccardo’s body swings slightly between Dante and Nicolo. I walk ahead, watching every corner like we’re in enemy territory.

We take the back stairwell. Thirteen floors of quiet, sterile air and old concrete. It’s a long way down. No one speaks. Every footstep echoes like a heartbeat. Nicolo and Dante’s heavy breaths accompany the rhythm.

Outside, a black van idles by the alley gate.

The driver steps out, an older man with weathered hands and no name I ever been allowed to learn. He knows the drill. It is his area of expertise.

Nicolo opens the back. Together, we heave Riccardo inside. There’s another tarp spread already. Bags of lye. A shovel. It’s not the first time this van’s been used for this purpose.

It won’t be the last.

Dante lights a cigarette and watches the taillights as the van pulls away.

For a long moment, none of us move. The alley is quiet. Too quiet. Like the city itself is holding its breath.

Then Nicolo claps me on the shoulder. “So. You’re the new boss now.”

I exhale. The night air stings my lungs. Feels like the first clean breath I’ve had in years.

“No,” I say, glancing back up toward the apartment. “Not yet.”

Not until Molly is safe. Not until everyone knows Riccardo’s gone and I’ve taken his place. Not until the power shift is complete. Not until the Don names me heir.

Not until the shadows in this city move when I say so.

But tonight?

Tonight I took the first step.

And there’s no going back.

Dante drops his cigarette on the floor. Flattens it with the toe of his shoe. He gives me a nod and heads off down the alley.

Nicolo flashes me another smile before walking off the other way, hands in his pockets. I watch until they both disappear out of sight.