Page 94 of Marcello

Oh NO.

“…you’re in charge now,” I whispered.

“FUCKIN’-A RIGHT I AM!” he cackled –

Then turned around and punched the dead bookie’s face over and over until he turned it into a bloody pulp.

FUCK.

As bad as things had been before…

Now there weren’t going to be any guardrails.

FUCK.

FUCK.

FUCK.

30

Idrove Cesare to the family mansion, but I stayed out by the car while he went inside to deliver the news to his sister.

If Lucrezia had anything close to her brother’s reaction, I figured the meeting would end up with them fucking, and I didn’t want to hear their groans and screams echoing through the house.

Turns out I heard them anyway, but at least they were muted since I was outside. I ignored them as best I could.

An hour later, Cesare came bounding out of the house, a giant smile on his face. Not only were his hands still caked with dried blood, now he stank of sex.

“Good meeting?” I asked nonchalantly.

“The fuckin’ best,” he said with a leer. “And I do mean fucking.”

I knew better than to answer that.

“What now?” I asked.

“Big plans, my man – big plans.” His joy turned to gleeful rage. “First and foremost, we’re gonna kill Dario Rosolini.”

I froze.

Rosolini?

As in FAUSTO Rosolini?

It was a pretty common last name, so I didn’t know for sure –

But I figured I should find out more.

“Who’s Dario Rosolini?”

Cesare dropped the glee and kept just the rage, pure and uncut. “The motherfucker who killed my father.”

I didn’t want to tip my hand, so I played dumb. “Is he from another Camorra clan?”

“No,” Cesare snarled, “he’s Cosa Nostra. Like that fuckin’ piece of shit Amato.”

I kept my face composed, but internally I was dancing with joy.