Page 77 of The Beast Who Broke Me
Ferraro stares. “Sir?”
“Let him in.”
“He’s with the Morellis now,” Ferraro protests. “He shouldn’t even know about tonight. And he turned on your grandfather?—”
“Don’t make me have to tell you again,” Caligula says softly, his eyes fixed on the old man.
The atmosphere changes. Suddenly they all seem to remember exactly what Louis fucking Clemenza waslikein those good old days. And now they have to confront the fact that their fantasies about remaking the Family mean bending to the whims of a twenty-one-year-old asshole.
I’m so certain they’ll drop their bullshit that it’s a shock when Ferraro reaches for the deadbolt.
“Stop,” I snap, stabbing a finger toward him. I turn to Caligula and lean over the chair, mouth to his ear, and mutter, “Are you outta your fucking mind? Any one of these assholes might kill you, and now you want to add a Morelli plant?”
He puts a hand on my chest. “Move back.”
I find myself obeying.
“Strike,” Caligula says, “let him in.”
I keep my gun up. The door opens, and the guy strolls in. Stocky, bearded, cheap leather jacket. I recognize him now. Scaglietti. One of those fucking Morellis who grabbed Caligula off the street.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Ferraro demands, putting up a hand to stop him moving forward any further. “We should kill you where you stand, rat.”
“I ain’t no rat! The Morellis only left me alive that night because they wanted someone to get the message out that Lou Clemenza was dead.”
“Bullshit. You’re one of them,” spits Big Mike. “How the fuck did you hear about tonight?”
“Listen,” the guy says, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. “D’Amato already heard all about the meeting.Hesent me. But,” he goes on quickly, as I lift my sights to rest between his eyes, “I figured I could be, like, a double agent. I hate him just as much as the rest of you. If there’s a way to get rid of him?—”
“That’s enough,” Caligula says. “Come in. And keep quiet.” He points at a rickety-looking chair. Scaglietti goes to it slowly, watching me the whole time, because I keep my gun on him. “Enough, Dami,” Caligula says at last, and only then do I drop it.
“No funny business, Morelli,” I growl at the guy.
“Says the Giuliano,” he scoffs. Big Mike crowds up close behind his seat, and I’m glad he hasn’t lost that intimidation instinct.
“All of us will have done things we’re not proud of to survive,” Caligula says. “So let’s put aside the past and focus on the future. But first: the Morellis.”
That gets their attention. Every eye locks on him. This is what they’ve been waiting for, a call to war. All of them hate the Morellis, and so does Caligula.
But with a pair of Morelli ears sitting right there in front of him, it doesn’t seem wise. Surely the Clemenza doesn’t believe this guy’s story?
He’s broken. I broke him. So maybe hedoesbelieve it. Maybe he?—
“Don Morelli rules this city,” Caligula says. “He rules it because he earned it. He has been a great friend to us, offering protection. We will not challenge him.”
Ferraro’s mouth opens. “But?—”
I glance at him, and it’s enough to shut him up.
But I don’t like what I’m hearing either. Because that Morelli protection wasn’t around when Caligula was sleeping on the streets or selling himself at the Obelisk, was it?I’mthe only one who actually protected him, and I don’t like hearing that erased. Even if I’m also the one who?—
I shut that line of thought down.
“Right now, we are still trying to survive,” Caligula says, and it hits me then: he’s using the royal “we,” although his Loyalists don’t seem to have noticed it. They just think they’re being included. “So we are going to find the people who retain those old loyalties,” he goes on, “and make them an invitation to return. That includes any who might have turned to other Families to survive. We will not judge them for it. And we will show mercy, even in the most difficult of circumstances.”
His eyes land on Scaglietti, who seems surprised at Caligula’s words. But around the room, others are nodding. They know what they’ve done to survive.
I think most of them probably know what Caligula Clemenza did to survive, too.
