Page 19 of Shattered King

Luca

“ Y ou know, boss, I didn’t sign up for babysitting duty.” Stefano grumbles at me through the phone.

I linger outside of the Serrano house, leaning back in my truck’s seat. “It’s only temporary. I can’t think of another man I’d rather have watching over my wife.”

“I could come up with a few.”

“Double pay. You know that. And my undying gratitude.”

“Keep the thanks, but I’ll take the cash.” Stefano hangs up. I smile to myself and slip the phone back into my pocket.

I keep thinking about the look on Fiorella’s face when she saw her Spider in that makeshift garage. It was pure excitement. Like a kid coming down to find actual fat-ass Santa squeezing up the chimney as reindeer glitter shit falls from the ceiling and presents manifest themselves under the tree.

It’s better if I don’t tell her that the around-the-clock protection of that obscenely expensive car is going to cost me a small fortune.

For some reason, she’s worth every single penny.

I don’t even know why. I push the door open and step out.

I like her. I can’t pretend that I don’t, but that should be the end of it.

She’s gorgeous and tough, everything I want in a woman, with a nice creamy center I can’t wait to lick down into.

Underneath all that anger is a woman who truly cares.

At least for herself, her car, and her sister.

But I’m the problem here. If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t be in danger.

I’ve spent my whole life struggling to make sure the people around me don’t end up dead or in prison.

I’ve dedicated myself to the Famiglia ever since I was thirteen years old and made the biggest mistake of my life.

I failed once back then. I won’t fail again.

If I were smart, I wouldn’t get attached to my pretty wife.

Instead, I feel it happening, like a worm wriggling into my ear.

I can’t stop it either.

Every time I get another taste, that worm goes deeper. Soon it’ll eat my fucking brains out and I’ll be a drooling mess.

With only my pretty wife left in my head.

I stomp my way toward the front door but don’t get the chance to knock. Raf opens up, looking grim as he nods at me. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“I wasn’t expecting this either, but here we are.” He doesn’t move to let me in. “I need to talk to your father.”

“It’s not a good time.”

“Yeah, well, it’s never a good fucking time.”

Raf still won’t budge. “I mean it, he’s not up for a visit right now. Maybe tomorrow?—”

“If you don’t let me see him right now, your Uncle Corrado’s going to be a bloody stain on the sidewalk by tomorrow .”

His lips press together. I’ll hand it to the guy; he doesn’t seem intimidated. Finally, he moves aside with a subtle shake of his head. “You won’t like this,” he murmurs and leads me deeper into the house.

Instead of going to the office, we take the stairs. I’m starting to rethink storming in here when Raf knocks lightly on a bedroom door and a raspy weak voice calls out. “Dad, I have Luca Marino with me. He needs to talk to you.”

I hesitate. The smell of antiseptic and piss wafts into the hallway. I glimpse a hospital bed, monitoring equipment, and a scattering of pills and other medications on top of a cluttered dresser.

“Marino?” the old man rasps, sounding confused. “Luca? What?”

“You know, Dad. Fiorella’s husband.”

Don Serrano coughs, an ugly and wet noise. I suck it up and move into the room, lingering on the threshold, staring in at the wreckage of the dying gangster.

He’s sitting up in bed wearing pajamas. His face is sallow and thin, his hair lank and greasy.

He looks like absolute shit, like someone squeezed the moisture from him and left him dying on the side of the road.

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I recognize the clever man trapped inside his sickness.

“Luca,” he says and weakly gestures for me to enter. Raf looks over his shoulder, clearly not happy about this. “I admit you caught me on a bad day.” He coughs again, and it sounds painful.

“I’m sorry, Don Serrano, but this is important.” I close the door behind me and go sit on an extra chair at the Don’s bedside. A stack of worn paperback Westerns teeters beside an old electric alarm clock. “There was an attack on my men, and I believe your brother was involved.”

For a moment, Don Serrano looks confused. “Brother? Corrado, what does he mean?” But then he looks at his son and clears his throat and shakes his head. “I mean, Luca, how can you know?”

He’s only partially coherent. Raf gets up and fills a glass of water for him.

“His son Tommy was there. They ambushed one of my trucks, set it on fire, and waited for us to show up. Tommy would’ve killed us, but we got the drop on him instead.”

“Tommy’s dead?” Raf asks with alarm. “How do I not know about this?”

I stare at the old Don. “You know why.”

He sighs, sipping some of the water with a shaking head, and leans back against his pillow. “Corrado is my brother.”

“He’s getting more aggressive. I’m here to ask permission to take him down. With him out of the picture, the alliance will be safe.” Fiorella will be safe too , I want to add, but keep my mouth shut.

Don Serrano licks his lips. He chews on something, shaking his head and murmuring. “Tommy was always headstrong. That boy did what he wanted, even when he was a little child. How do we know Corrado was involved?”

I look at Raf for help. This is fucking absurd. “Do you seriously think his own son would straight out attack me without his father’s permission?”

“Perhaps,” Don Serrano mutters. “Perhaps, perhaps. Boys will be boys. Lighting ants on fire.” He coughs, sputtering the water, and Raf has to take it away before he spills it all over. “Where the fuck is my lunch?” he snaps, suddenly angry out of nowhere.

“You ate an hour ago, Dad,” Raf says, gently pushing him back before he can try to pull himself out of bed.

“I can’t get any decent fucking help here,” the dying man growls, trying to shove his son away, but he’s too weak. Eventually, he gives up and slumps backward, breathing hard.

I stare at him, a pit of horror opening in my stomach.

Raf is grim and avoiding my gaze. This is worse than I guessed.

We knew Don Serrano was dying, but not that he was this mentally unwell.

How long have they been keeping this from everyone?

How many bad decisions has the Don made in the last few months? I push my chair back and stand.

“We’ll discuss this another time when you’re feeling better,” I say, moving toward the door.

“Leave my brother alone,” Don Serrano snaps at me. “You fucking murdering prick. Leave him alone! He’s got enough problems, you hear me? Leave him the fuck alone!”

I retreat into the hallway, hands clenched into fists. Raf follows me out a moment later, giving me a look. “Like I said?—”

I slam my forearm into his chest and crash him back into the wall with a snarl. His eyes go wide in alarm, and he clenches his fist back to smash it into my face but stops cold.

I press the naked edge of a knife against his cheek, snarling like a dog.

“What else have you been lying about?”

His lips pull back into a sneer. “I tried to warn you. This is a bad day.”

“How often does he have a bad fucking day ?”

“More often than not lately.” He tilts his head. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Take control, you weak fucking shit.”

“You don’t understand. The family’s a mess.

Dad’s the only thing keeping it together.

Corrado would happily tear it all to pieces if I tried to step into Dad’s position before he dies.

They’d call it a fucking coup.” He shakes his head, skin brushing over my knife.

It leaves a little red line, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe Raf is tougher than I gave him credit for.

I step back, flicking the knife away and back into my pocket. He wipes the blood from his cheek with his palm.

“What am I supposed to do here? I can’t sit back and let your uncle keep trying to kill me and your sister.”

“Dad doesn’t have long. Once he’s gone, we can make our move. I’ll take over as the Don of the Serrano Famiglia, and we can kill Corrado together.”

“Why not just do it now?”

“Because the other Capos might not like that. I told you, everything’s barely holding together. Corrado is more popular than you realize. Your family’s money is helping, but my uncle’s been sowing the seeds for this mutiny for a while now.”

I stare at him and resist the temptation to draw my knife again. “You’re risking your sister’s life for your own power.”

“It’s for the Famiglia.”

“No, it’s so you can become the Don. You don’t have the backing of the Capos. Instead, you have my family’s support, all thanks to your sister’s sacrifice.”

“She’s doing her duty.” He turns back to his father’s bedroom. “And I’m the rightful heir. Once Dad passes and I officially take his position, Corrado will die, and the Capos will fall into line. Loyalty’s like sand. It washes away in a fucking storm.”

“Soaks up blood too,” I murmur as he walks away, frustrated as hell.

I’m fighting a war with my hands tied behind my back. I know who my enemy is, but I can’t go out and kill him. Instead, these pathetic idiots want to play politics while I’m out here running a war.

How am I supposed to keep my wife safe if I can’t even kill the man trying to kill her?

“Thank god you’re here,” Stefano says, sounding genuinely relieved. “If I had to stare at that fucking tent for ten minutes longer, I was gonna rip out my own eyeballs.”

I clap him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re a good man. But you seriously should look into adult-onset ADHD.”

“Never been a problem before.”

“Because you rarely ever have to sit still for long.”

He grunts with a slight shrug. “Anyway, you’re here now. Guess I’m relieved?”

“For a few minutes at least. I can’t stay long.”

He lets out a long sigh. “When’s Leo coming again?”

“An hour. You’ll survive.”

“Fuck.”