Page 44 of The Mafia’s Second Shot (Burning For You Again #3)

COOPER

T he air in the meeting room feels heavy as I step inside, the quiet murmurs of the crew falling silent the moment they see me.

Marco stands near the head of the long table, his expression unreadable as he nods toward my usual seat.

The men and women gathered here—my lieutenants, my confidants—watch me with a mix of curiosity and unease.

They know something’s coming.

I sit, leaning forward with my elbows on the table, my gaze sweeping across the room. These people have been with me through everything—victories, betrayals, and losses that still haunt me. They’ve put their faith in me time and time again, and now I’m about to ask them to do it one more time.

“Thanks for coming,” I begin, my voice steady. “I know it’s been a long few weeks, and I appreciate all of you stepping up while I’ve been out of commission.”

There’s a faint murmur of acknowledgment, but it’s subdued, cautious. They’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I take a deep breath, meeting Marco’s gaze for a brief moment before turning back to the group.

“We’ve been through a lot together,” I continue.

“More than most people could handle. And because of that, we’ve built something stronger than any one person.

Something that can survive even when the odds are against us. ”

A few heads nod, their expressions softening. I press on, my voice firmer now.

“But the truth is, I can’t lead this anymore,” I say, the words falling heavily into the silence. “I’ve made the decision to step down.”

The room erupts in murmurs, some surprised, others confused. Angelo is the first to speak, his brow furrowed. “Step down? What are you talking about, boss?”

“I’m talking about passing the torch,” I reply, my gaze steady. “It’s time for someone else to take the reins. Someone who can lead this organization into the future.”

The murmurs grow louder, the tension in the room palpable. Marco steps forward, his hands resting on the back of a chair as he looks around the table.

“It’s true,” Marco says, his voice calm but authoritative. “Cooper’s made his decision, and I’ve agreed to take over.”

This silences the room, all eyes turning to Marco. Some look skeptical, others relieved, but no one speaks for a long moment. Finally, Frank, one of my older lieutenants, leans forward, his expression thoughtful.

“You think you’re ready for this, Marco?” he asks. “This isn’t just about running the day-to-day. It’s about carrying the weight of everything we’ve built.”

Marco nods, his expression firm. “I know what it means, Frank. And I wouldn’t take this on if I didn’t think I could do it.”

As the crew begins to discuss the transition, I lean back in my chair, letting the conversation flow around me.

It feels strange, almost surreal, to watch them shift their focus from me to Marco.

For years, this room has been my domain, every decision falling squarely on my shoulders.

But now, I can feel the weight lifting, replaced by something that feels dangerously close to peace.

Still, doubts linger.

When the meeting ends, most of the crew files out, their expressions a mix of acceptance and lingering uncertainty. Marco stays behind, leaning against the edge of the table as he looks at me.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his tone quieter now.

I nod. “I am. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

Marco exhales, his usual confidence tempered by something more vulnerable. “What if I screw this up, Cooper? What if I can’t?—”

“You won’t,” I interrupt, standing to face him. “You’ve already proven you can handle this. You’ve got the crew’s respect, and you know how to make the tough calls. That’s all you need.”

Marco studies me for a moment before nodding. “All right. But don’t think I won’t call you if things go sideways.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” I say, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

As Marco leaves, I linger in the room, the weight of the decision settling over me. I’ve spent years building this organization, pouring everything I have into it. Letting go feels like losing a piece of myself, but I know it’s the right choice. For the crew. For Marco. For Zoey.

For me.

Later that evening, I find Zoey in the kitchen, her hands busy as she prepares something that smells incredible. She glances up when I walk in, her eyes searching mine.

“How’d it go?” she asks, setting down a knife.

“Better than I expected,” I reply, leaning against the counter. “They’re accepting it. Slowly, but they are.”

“And Marco?” she presses.

“He’s stepping up,” I say, my voice steady. “He’s ready for this.”

She nods, her gaze thoughtful. “And you? Are you ready to let go?”

The question hangs in the air, heavier than I expect. I take a deep breath, my eyes meeting hers. “I think I am.”

Zoey studies me for a long moment, her expression softening. “I heard some of what you told them,” she admits, her voice quiet. “About wanting to build something for the future.”

“You were eavesdropping?” I tease, though there’s no bite in my tone.

She shrugs, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe.”

I step closer, my hand brushing against hers. “You’re my future, Zoey,” I say, my voice low but certain. “This decision—it’s for us.”

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, but her smile is bright. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“I think I do,” I reply, pulling her into my arms.

As we stand there, the past feels like it’s finally starting to let go, making room for something new. Something better.

And for the first time in years, I feel free.