Page 39

Chapter 39

Massimo

Alberto stands beside a van smoking a cigarette as I drag Mancini outside by his neck.

Silvestro Mancini is lean and quite a bit shorter than me, but the fucker is wiry. Hard to keep hold of, just like the writhing, slithering snake he is.

My rage is almost consuming me. Almost .

By nature, I'm calm and controlled. This was also deeply ingrained in me through the trials my father put me through to earn my position as Don. Our empire requires a steady, strategic head at the helm to protect our people, power, and wealth.

Too many criminal organizations had fallen, and too many of its people killed because of hot-headed, impulsive, emotional decisions.

But fuck me, I want to unleash on this snake. I want to crush him with my bare hands. He's in my hands currently. At my mercy.

A swell of potent power rushes up within me.

Do it. Fucking do it.

But I'm not a consequences-be-damned type of man. Not when my family and our empire will live with the punishment of my weakness.

I'm not a weak man—physically, mentally, or emotionally—and I won't give in to impulse now.

Mancini's day will come. Until then, I have the perfect plan to start ruining him.

To hell with 'Ndrangheta politics.

In what I'm about to do—hell, not about to do , the wheels are already in motion—I'm acting more like Vito, willing to balance on a blade, flipping the middle finger and toying with my prey. It's so goddamn freeing.

Not that I'll ever admit that to my slightly unhinged brother.

The other 'Ndrangheta Dons will suspect me, but they won't find any proof. However, if they do somehow confirm I'm behind what's happening with Mancini, they'll see it as me skirting the rules and disrespecting the vote.

Fuck. Them.

This is my family. The one that has been targeted and attacked by Mancini more than once.

No one in our criminal syndicate dictates the actions of another Don; however, when something could affect the whole of the 'Ndrangheta, it's put to a vote. Once I found out what was happening, we had to do this virtually today instead of at the upcoming face-to-face meeting. And because Mancini holds the key to a multi-million dollar opportunity, the slim majority vote was not to kill him right now. I plan to appeal this decision in person at the 'Ndrangheta meeting to better state my case.

Until then, the snake continues to breathe.

Alberto flicks his cigarette to the ground and crushes it with his boot. Which is a shame. I would've loved to push that burning ember into Mancini's eye. He grins at Mancini struggling in my hold, with his feet dangling and kicking.

I toss the snake on the ground. Mancini's slicked-back hair flops forward, and his previously pristine suit is torn.

I brush my suit off, like something slimy and slithery has defiled it, and look down at my enemy with an unreadable expression.

"Don't forget, snake ." That word is the only one with any emotion— hate —connected to it. " I'm letting you live," I taunt him about who's at whose mercy right now.

"Fuck you, baby Don. We both know you can't kill me."

Baby Don? Really?

I'm thirty-two and have been born and bred for my role. Although I might have been in the Don role for less than a year, my father was wise and began my succession training early. For the five years leading to my father's death, I co-led with him, even though he was still formally the Don.

But I don't care what this slimy fuck thinks. Let him and everyone else underestimate me. That suits me perfectly fine. I'm not an egotistical man; I don't need others to validate my abilities, especially not a snake like Mancini.

Alberto glares at Mancini, then turns to me. "Want me to do the honors, Don?"

"What the hell does that mean?" Mancini tries to scramble away. His hands are tied behind his back, so his heels kick against the gravel, but he doesn't go anywhere.

"Just open the door, Alberto. Thank you."

Mamma raised her boys to be polite.

Alberto does as I ask. I reach for Mancini, relishing the fear that leaps into his eyes.

Oh, how I would love to fist his throat and rip it out like an animal.

Instead, I grab the back of his neck and the zip ties of his bound hands. I yank him up, loving his shouts of pain as the zip ties dig into his flesh as they bear his body weight.

Inside the back of the van is a pine box, and Alberto flips open the lid.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mancini shrieks. "You can't kill me! You can't kill me!"

Hoisting him like I'm ranch hand and two-hand tossing a bale, I throw him into the makeshift coffin that will have to do for now. Alberto stuffs him in, reaching for the lid, and slams it shut, smacking Mancini in the head as he tries to sit up and crushes his fingers between the box and lid.

"Oops, sorry about that, mate." Alberto opens the lid slightly to stuff Mancini's fingers inside, then slams it shut again. The pine box rattles as Mancini pounds it from the inside, and Alberto secures the latches.

"Mate?" I hike my brow at my Capo. He's Italian through and through.

He chuckles. "Just trying something new, you know?"

I clap Alberto's back as he climbs out of the back of the van. "Mancini," I call out pleasantly. "There’ll be a day soon that I come to claim my pound of flesh from you for your sins against me. Enjoy your ride."

Alberto cackles and slams the van door. "The plane is ready to go once we load him on. Orders still the same?"

"Yes."

Alberto and a group of his men will fly Mancini back to Boston, with Mancini spending hours locked in the pine box. When they land, they'll unload the temporary coffin onto the tarmac, then taxi and take off to return.

"Thank you for your assistance here today, Alberto."

"That's what family does, Massimo."

"I'll talk to you when you get back. Safe travels."

He gives me a two-finger salute as he climbs into the van and drives away. I pull out my phone and call my cousin halfway around the world.

"How's my favorite cousin?" Gemma says in greeting.

"Ready for his favorite cousin to implement her part of the plan."

"Oh, goodie," she replies, but doesn't sound overly enthusiastic.

Gemma was all-in at the start of this op, but I've sensed a slight change over the past few days.

I trust Gemma will deliver. She's mafia just like us—ruthless and determined—and values family above all else. But I can tell she's having some reservations.

"Have the princess's travel plans changed in the last twenty-four hours?" A ripple of excitement passes through me at the thought of the perfect little princess at my mercy.

"Nope."

"Good. I need you to grab her and be wheels up in less than an hour."

"Any different instructions from what you gave me previously?"

"Don't let the princess be too comfortable."

"Mass," Gemma huffs. "The flight is over twelve hours from the Lake Como area to San Francisco."

"Christ, I didn't say tie her in her seat the whole time." Or make her fly in a pine box. "But this isn't a first-class flight with service, Gemma."

She huffs again. "I know what I'm doing."

Gabe waits for me, staying close at hand like my best friend and head bodyguard always does. I walk toward him and back to the factory. The screams have started.

Thankfully, the area around here is deserted, and we have secured a wide perimeter. Ohith, Axin, and their team have a big job ahead of them regarding clean-up—something they refused our help with.

"Was that a scream?" Gemma asks.

"Your unhinged cousin is hard at work."

I sound like the grumpy motherfucker Vito always pokes and bugs me about being. But in truth, I'm proud of him. He protected our family, as well as the Chamber. Lixin and Amazu's plan would've destroyed the Chamber and the peace that had been cultivated over the years. His suspicions are a huge reason why we could stop it.

Papa , me, and Ash had all been oblivious. Dom was only suspicious because Lixin and Amazu had subtly tried to get him on their side. The Chamber and us leaders owe Vito, even Eden and Aiken, a debt. And I plan to use that to bargain for Vito and Eden's lives.

They will get their happily ever after.

Gemma snorts. "Vito is a fiend when he's playing but does masterpiece work. He's my favorite cousin in that regard."

"Hey," I warn, and she laughs.

"Later, Cous."

"Safe travels, Gemma."

Gabe hears Gemma's name, and he shifts but remains impassive. He's not fooling me; my friend, who is death-on-two-legs, is a goddamn cinnamon roll when it comes to my fiery cousin.

"Go inside and enjoy the show," I tell him. He cocks his brow at me. "I'll be in shortly."

Gabe looks at my phone in my hand. He knows what I'm going to do but only nods, then heads into the factory.

I flip my phone over in my hand, trying to resist but knowing I'll fail like every other time.

I unlock my phone and go to my pictures. Selecting the encrypted folder that requires both a password and my facial scan, I open the folder to go through the pictures within.

They're all of the same young woman, all taken without her knowledge. There's picture after picture of a tiny little blonde with doe-like eyes.

The only way I can describe the blonde color of her hair is like staring into a glass of the finest champagne with a hint of creaminess. The tresses are wavy and soft-looking and hang to her mid-back.

Her skin color has soft bronze undertones, accentuating her soft brown eyes. I expected her to have blue eyes, but the brown ones were a pleasant surprise.

Her lips are the perfect cupid's bow.

Her frame is slight. Based on the pictures, I expect the top of her head to hit my mid-chest. Compared to her, I'll look like a giant.

Nova Mancini.

The Mancini Princess.

My enemy's only daughter.

And my soon-to-be captive.

My perfect revenge.

Nova Mancini doesn't know it yet, but I'm about to become her biggest monster and nightmare.