Page 97 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

I walked with Adriano through the fields behind the house.

As I’d insisted, Dario stayed inside. I was still too spooked by the assassination attempt to risk him going out in the open.

Lazaro shuffled along in front of us, his hands bound behind his back. The rope tied between his ankles guaranteed he couldn’t run.

“Please… please don’t do this…” he pleaded through his tears.

“Shut the fuck up and keep walking,” Adriano snarled.

We entered the olive groves. Lazaro kept sniffling and begging, and Adriano kept yelling at him to be quiet.

Eventually, we reached one of our most trusted foot soldiers, Giorgio. He had stripped down to just his pants and shoes as he dug a grave in the hot summer sun. His white shirt hung over an olive tree branch. Sweat poured off his back as he shoveled dirt out of the hole.

As soon as Lazaro saw the grave, he screamed and tried to run –

But he forgot about the rope around his ankles.

It snapped tight –

And he faceplanted on the ground.

Adriano grabbed Lazaro by his collar, dragged him over to the edge of the pit, and forced him up onto his knees.

“That’s deep enough,” Adriano said.

Giorgio looked uneasily at Lazaro before pulling himself up out of the grave.

“Please, I’m begging you, please don’t do this!” Lazaro babbled. “I didn’t mean to – it was a mistake – I know that now, please!”

“Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit,” Adriano snarled.

“Giorgio,” Lazaro pleaded, “tell my mother and father I’m sorry – tell them – ”

Giorgio looked away as though he was embarrassed for Lazaro.

Adriano pulled his Glock out of his shoulder holster.

There was a clack as he pulled back the slide to chamber a round.

“PLEASE – please don’t do this!” Lazaro screamed in terror.

“Lazaro,” I said softly.

He looked up at me as though hoping I might be his salvation.

Little did he know.

Since my brothers and I were teenagers, we had witnessed our father execute three men who had turned traitor against our family.

Normally that sort of thing would have been handled by a foot soldier. But when the treachery was personal – when it had been committed by someone my father knew and trusted – he insisted upon doing it himself.

There was a standard speech he had given all three men. It had been seared into my memory; I repeated it almost word for word.

“Lazaro Reboletti… you have been found guilty of treason against our family.”

As soon as he heard those words, Lazaro began to sob again.

“The penalty for this crime is death.

“No request for mercy shall be entertained; no quarter shall be given.

“We take no pleasure in this act.

“Take solace in knowing that your crime is yours, and yours alone…

“And none of your loved ones will suffer for your transgressions – only you.

“Make your peace with God…

“And may He have mercy upon your soul.”

Lazaro said one last word – “Please – ”

Before Adriano put the gun to the back of his head and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot echoed through the olive groves as Lazaro toppled into the grave.

Adriano stared down at the lifeless body for a long moment…

Then nodded once at Giorgio before turning away.

As we walked back through the olive trees, I heard Giorgio begin to shovel dirt back into the hole.

Adriano and I were halfway to the house before I asked, “You okay?”

“No, I’m fuckin’ awful,” Adriano said as he stared into the distance. “I was so angry at him… I wanted to kill him for what he did… but then… afterwards…”

He trailed off into silence.

“But it had to be done,” he finally said, his voice raw.

“Yes,” I said grimly. “It had to be done.”