Page 44 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

Niccolo

W hen Bianca told us it was Aurelio she’d seen in Florence, it was gut-wrenching.

My brothers and I hated Aurelio – we always had –

But he was blood.

Family.

The idea that he would conspire to have us murdered…

It was a betrayal worthy of Dante’s Inferno.

The bastard should have been down in the ninth circle of Hell, stuffed head-first up Satan’s ass.

But Bianca’s identification of Aurelio as the mystery man supplied a missing piece of the puzzle – one that connected several loose ends.

From there, it was easy to deduce that Fausto was the one pulling the strings…

Which was far harder to take.

In fact, it shook me to my core.

When Dario took the fall for the family and went to prison four years ago, I swore I would never forgive Fausto.

Little did I know that my uncle’s cowardice was merely the opening verse in a vast epic of betrayal.

I hated Aurelio, yes –

But I had loved Fausto like a second father.

And he was the one who had plotted to kill us.

Not only that, he had probably arranged my father’s death, as well.

For that, I wanted to torture him to death myself.

And yet…

Despite all the puzzle pieces seeming to fit…

There was still one missing.

You see, I knew Fausto.

I had been his apprentice for over 10 years.

I knew his methods and ways of thinking backwards and forwards.

When he was still Papa’s consigliere , I could predict how Fausto would respond to any given situation with 99% accuracy.

The events of the last two months?

The Turk and Mezzasalma, specifically?

None of it bore Fausto’s trademark caution.

The Turk and Mezzasalma were bold moves.

Decisive –

Stunning –

Tactically brilliant.

The secret alliance with the Agrellas – the corrupt judges, all of it –

That was classic Fausto.

Devise a trap and wait years until it was sprung.

My uncle always played the long game. That was his primary strategy.

But the Turk and Mezzasalma –

The massacre of the Agrellas –

Those were lightning-fast strikes!

Not only that, but they had multiple layers to them.

If Mezzasalma had killed us, problem solved.

If Mezzasalma failed, the rest of the Cosa Nostra would still despise us and probably destroy us.

A double-pronged attack…

Lightning fast and bold…

And a win-win for Fausto, no matter what.

That type of strategy was completely unlike my uncle.

It felt like someone else was manipulating the puppet strings.

Which is why, during our meeting in the parlor, there was one moment that surprised me –

And it came out of nowhere.

It was when I was telling my brothers why Fausto had to keep his intentions hidden from the rest of the Cosa Nostra .

He had to do it all through puppets like the Turk and Mezzasalma so he could cover his tracks. And he’s been very, very clever at doing so.

At that moment, it was like my intuition reached up from the depths of my subconscious and handed me a clue.

Like a chess grandmaster, planning it all out beforehand… an unseen hand manipulating the pieces on the board…

As soon as I said it, I stood there, shocked.

No…

That’s impossible.

It couldn’t be her –

COULD IT?!

My mind traced back through my conversation with Aurora –

If that was even her fucking name!

When I’d suggested we were doing a dance, she had been the one to suggest we were playing chess instead.

When I’d asked her to play with me – what had she said?

Be careful – you might not be able to handle me.

Holy SHIT!

Then Massimo asked me a question, interrupting my reverie.

I filed my thoughts away for later so I could continue the business at hand.

But even though I had no proof, I was 100% sure of my conclusion:

I had just met Fausto’s consigliere…

And the woman responsible for nearly wiping us off the face of the earth… twice.