Page 32 of Shattered King

Fiorella

W e’re not the first people to show up at my father’s house.

Men are gathered in the living room. Men I’ve known all my life but are rarely ever in the same room.

There’s Carmine Serrano, my father’s second cousin, skinny and intense.

He’s talking to Nicolo Serrano, his brother, rounder and a little louder, but now more subdued than I’ve ever seen him.

Toward the back, drinking coffee alone, is Filippo Benedetti, an important accountant and Capo in charge of keeping track of the Famiglia’s business expenditures, and near him is Rocco Russo, one of my father’s most loyal enforcers.

They’re all old men. They’ve been around the Famiglia forever. And they’re the heart of the organization’s power. Aside from Uncle Corrado, these are the most powerful people in my world, each a made man, a Capo in the organizational structure, and a little chief of their own powerful tribe.

All eyes turn to me. And I know without anyone speaking.

“He’s waiting up there.” Carmine jerks his head toward the steps, his expression grim. His eyes move to Luca, looming behind me. “Maybe it’s better this way, yeah? Less time to linger?”

“Better for whom?” I ask and don’t wait for an answer. Luca stays right behind me as I climb up, my heart racing, feeling sick. I’m terrified I’ll throw up. I don’t want to do this because the second I see Raf, I know it’s over.

“You’re okay,” Luca whispers, lacing his fingers into mine. “If you want me to kill someone for you, I’ll do it.”

“Would that make you feel better?”

He shrugs a little. “Sometimes it works.”

“I’ll take a rain check on that.”

“Offer stands.”

We reach the top landing. Ahead, my father’s bedroom door sits open. I can hear low voices murmuring quietly, and I recognize Raf’s among them. I pause to gather myself before walking with my head held high into my father’s room.

Elisa’s sitting by the bedside. Her eyes are red from crying, and she’s staring down at a man-shaped lump beneath a white sheet.

Her hand’s right where his hand must be.

Several other men stand nearby, all of them in black suits, and I realize they must be the funeral directors.

Raf’s talking to them, but he stops when he sees me.

“Fiorella,” he says. Elisa looks over and instantly starts crying again, curling into herself. “I’m sorry, Fio. I’m really sorry.”

“Dad’s gone.” It feels so strange. I’m hollow inside, like someone scooped my guts out. Only Luca feels real as his grip on my hand tightens. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“He went last night in his sleep. They think it was peaceful.” Raf glances back at the respectful men waiting off to the side. “You should say your goodbyes. They’re going to take him soon.”

“Right. Okay.” I bite my lower lip hard, but I don’t move. “We should’ve had more time.”

“I know.” Raf suddenly pulls me into a hug. I feel Luca’s hand slip from mine. I hold onto my brother for a second, letting out a single sob before he releases me again. “But he knew it was coming.”

“He warned us. I just thought we had months.”

“That’s what he kept saying.” Raf shakes his head miserably. “But here we are. You go sit with Elisa. Let me borrow your husband for a second.” He looks at Luca, his face going hard, and I know they’re going to talk business.

Let them deal with that. I walk to Elisa and throw my arms around her. She cries harder as I hug her, and her crying makes me start crying too, and god damn it, there are too many tears already.

“Dad died,” she says, sounding so small and sad. “I never really believed it. But he’s gone.”

“I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“What can we do? There’s the service, the funeral, someone will have to write a eulogy—” She sucks in a few breaths and gathers herself. “You should say goodbye.”

I turn to my father, or at least what used to be him.

I touch his hand, and it doesn’t react. I’ve seen death before, but it’s different when it’s your own family.

I lean in close and try to find words, except they all seem inadequate, like there’s nothing I can say that’ll make any sense right now.

“You were a pretty good dad,” I whisper, which makes me laugh stupidly to myself.

What a dumb thing to say. Pretty good? The guy just died.

I could at least upgrade him to just good .

“You cared about us in your own way. You weren’t easy.

I hated you sometimes. But you took care of us.

And I love you for that. I always will love you, Papa. ”

That makes Elisa cry again. I hug her, and we sit there in silence together, staring at the body that doesn’t breathe, the sheets totally still and unmoving, until the funeral home employees gently ask us to leave so they can handle taking the body away.

I gently lead Elisa back downstairs to where the Capos are all gathered.

Raf’s pouring coffee and handing out little cookies and pastries, and Luca comes over the second he spots me.

“You all good?” His protective arm wraps around my shoulder.

“Trying to be.”

He nods like that’s the best we can do at this point.

The tension in the room is subtle at first. Raf’s doing his best to keep his spirits up, but his smile and his energy feel forced and terrible.

None of the other Capos seem interested in holding a conversation with him, and they studiously avoid looking over toward where Elisa, Luca, and I sit at the edge of the gathering.

Everyone goes quiet and stares as Dad’s body is taken out in a black body bag.

“Guess that’s all our future,” Rocco mutters.

Carmine flips him off. “Don’t be fucking grim. The Don’s dead.”

“He was a good man.” Nicolo presses his palms together and bows his head. “May the Lord embrace his soul.”

“End of a fuckin’ era,” Carmine grumbles, shaking his head. “Last of the greats.”

“We talkin’ about the same guy?” Rocco looks around the room. “Tom Serrano saddled this family with debt. Under his leadership, we nearly fell apart. He had to sell his daughter to another family to keep us afloat.”

I glare at him, my heart suddenly racing. Asshole’s talking like I’m not sitting in the room. I lean forward, about to tell him off, but Luca puts a hand on my arm and shakes his head slightly. The look on his face keeps my mouth shut.

“Situation was out of his control,” Carmine snaps back. “You know that good as I do. Don’t be a prick.”

Rocco glares at his brother. “Easy for you to say. You were deep in the shit with him, weren’t you?”

“Motherfucker,” Carmine snarls, lurching toward Rocco, hands outstretched.

“Enough, god damn it,” Raf says, getting between the two older men as they glare at each other over him. “Carmine, stand the fuck down. You too, Rocco.”

“Who takes orders from you?” Rocco snaps back.

The room goes silent. Carmine’s seething, but he takes a step away. His jaw works. Rocco remains defiant, his anger turned toward Raf.

“You take orders from me.” Raf’s voice is cool and in control. He gazes at the four gathered Capos one at a time. “You all take orders from me.”

“Nobody hailed you as Don yet.” Rocco’s lip curls. “The way I see it, your father put us in this position. Why should we turn to his son to lead us?”

Silence. Thick and awful. Carmine’s the only one standing behind Raf, glaring hate at his brother. Nicolo’s slowly getting to his feet, while Filippo remains separate, watching with a curious frown.

This is the moment. Everyone in this room knows why they’re here. Raf needs them to proclaim him as the Don if he’s going to move forward with leading the Famiglia. This is Raf consolidating his power in the wake of our father’s sudden death.

Except it’s not happening like he thought it would.

“My father named me as his heir. You’ve known that for a long time now.” Raf steps forward, looking hard at Rocco. “If you had a problem, you should’ve spoken then.”

“And piss off the Don? While he was old and sick? I’m not stupid enough to do something like that. But you’re nothing yet, and I don’t plan on proclaiming you as anything.”

“You motherfucking traitor,” Carmine growls, yanking his jacket back and reaching for his gun. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

Chaos erupts. Carmine’s yelling at Rocco, waving a gun around, and Rocco’s shouting right back. More guns are drawn until everyone in the room’s pointing a weapon at everyone else, except for Filippo. He’s busy hiding in the background, watching the spectacle with a deep frown.

Luca quietly and slowly moves me and Elisa toward the door.

“Everyone calm the fuck down!” Raf shouts over the noise. “Rocco, goddamn it, stop it. Carmine, put the fucking gun away. This isn’t how we do business!”

“You don’t know shit about how we do business,” Rocco says, leveling his gun at Raf.

For a second, I don’t think he’ll do it. Nobody moves a muscle. There should be guards, soldiers, anyone that could keep my brother from getting himself killed. Except that’s not what he wanted. He probably thought these men would fall into line now that there’s a vacuum at the top of the Famiglia.

But he clearly was wrong.

“Don’t throw this business into chaos,” Raf warns, not flinching away from the gun. “Don’t be fucking stupid, Rocco. My sister’s marriage to the Marino Famiglia is all that’s left keeping us afloat. You need me.”

“I don’t need shit.” Rocco’s lip curls into a sneer. “Sorry, kid, but Corrado’s got better ideas.”

“You stupid bitch,” Carmine says and lurches at his brother.

Rocco’s gun goes off. I scream in shock as Raf crumples backward, blood spraying.

More shooting and more blood, and suddenly I’m thrown away from the massacre, the door banging open, Luca’s body wrapped around mine.

I twist my ankle and cry out in pain as we stagger down the front steps, Elisa getting dragged in our wake, and the gunshots keep going off, each one an explosion right into my heart, and I keep seeing Raf falling to the floor, blood spraying into the air.

I scream, struggling against Luca, trying to get back to my brother, but his grip is iron and my ankle feels like it’s going to break apart.

“Stay here,” Luca snarls in my face, shoving me into his car. Elisa gets in beside me. She’s trembling and splattered with blood. Luca draws a gun from his belt and steps away. “Don’t fucking move.”

He strides back to the house. The shooting abruptly stops.

My ears are ringing. I try to open the door to go after my husband, but Elisa grabs me and holds tight. “Don’t do it,” she says, fear in her voice. Her eyes are big and wild with terror. “Please, just stay here. Stay with me. Don’t go after him.”

“He’s in trouble. Raf might be dead. I can’t just leave Luca in there alone.” I try to pull away, but Elisa clings on tight.

“We can’t do anything. Please, Fio, stay here. Stay with me.”

I let out a frustrated scream. I can’t leave Elisa. Not when she’s begging like this.

All my life I’ve protected her. I nearly gave my life for hers when we were trapped in that panic room together. I’d do anything for her, but she’s not the only important person in my life anymore.

I have Luca now. And he’s in danger.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I say, staring at the open door. Nothing moves. Nobody comes out. There aren’t any more gunshots, and the quiet is even more ominous than the shooting. I don’t know what’s happening in there, but I want to race inside. I hate sitting still, trapped in this fucking car.

“It’ll be okay, it’ll be okay,” Elisa’s saying, over and over again.

I’m about to try the door again when suddenly Luca appears with Raf leaning against his side.

My brother looks bad. He’s splattered with blood and his body is limp. I finally extract myself from my sister’s grip and run to them. Luca’s grim as he carries Raf toward the car, and I go to help, taking some of Raf’s weight onto my shoulders.

“He’s bad,” Luca says, giving me a hard look. “But he’s still breathing. Carmine and Rocco are dead. The accountant will probably live.”

Raf’s bloody and pale. His clothes are drenched in the stuff. I can’t tell where he’s wounded and how much of the blood is his own, but it doesn’t matter. We get him into the car, and Luca slams down on the accelerator, making a call as the car lurches through traffic.

“Oh, god,” Elisa says, sobbing, knees pulled to her chest. “Oh, god, oh, god.”

“Hang on,” I whisper to my brother. I find the wound and put as much pressure on it as I can. “Just hang on, Raf. Just hang on.”

My sister melts down in the wake of our father’s death as my brother bleeds on the seat beside us.