Page 3 of Reaper’s Wrath

We say our goodbyes—I give an especially warm smile to Fedele—then watch the odd couple head to their SUV.

“I hate this for you, Isa. I hope you know that,” Dad murmurs.

“He’s not so bad,” I assure him in a light tone. “A little full of himself, but that’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Dad huffs. “That bravado says a lot about his insecurities, which worries me more than anything. Small men have foolish ambitions. He’s spent years in the shadow of disgrace after his uncle Salvatore betrayed the Lucciano family. Mazzi sees this marriage as an opportunity to make a name for himself. Judging by how eager he is for the wedding, he’s desperate to improve his status.”

“So long as I still have my own money and freedom, he can have his marriage and status. We’ve been up front about there being no children, so maybe it’ll be a win-win for everyone involved.” I smile, adding quietly, “And if I ever feel unsafe, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

He gently bops a finger to my nose and smirks. “That’s my girl. You know I’d do anything for you. You’re all I have left.”

A fissure of pain lances through my chest for us both. My mother and brother died within a year of each other, leaving Dad and me alone. We’ve clung to one another ever since.

I wrap my arms around his middle and absorb the comfort of his hug like a cactus soaking up the rain.

“Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you more, princess.”

“Are you okay if I stay out here to plant some flowers?” I ask, pulling back to meet his gaze.

“Of course, I am. James is inside on the cameras, and we have two men patrolling the perimeter.” His eyes narrow to angry slits. “The nerve of that man to insinuate I can’t protect you. I’d say he’s got some balls, but I think it was more stupidity than anything.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I knew you’d appreciate that.”

“I don’t need to broadcast my defenses to be safe. In fact, it’s better that way. Let’s let the enemy have a false sense of security. Anyone out of the ordinary even looks at this property, and they’ll wish they were never born.”

He’s so vehement in his protection of me that I can’t help but give him a mock salute.

“Yes, sir.”

“Eh, get out of here, you little punk. Go plant some flowers and stay out of trouble.”

“Always!” I sing back to him as I skip away, and it’s true. I always try to stay out of trouble because if something happened to me, Dad would truly be all alone in the world. I can’t hurt him like that, which means even at thirty-seven years old, I still live with my father.

In a way, we stayed frozen in time after my brother, Ario, died. I know it’s not normal and maybe not even healthy, but it suits us. We’re family. And I think by dedicating ourselves to one another, we’re honoring those we lost. Appreciating what we have because we both know how quickly it can all slip away.

CHAPTER 2

ELIO

Knowledge is the ultimate power.

Guns may kill, but they’re worthless if you don’t know who to aim them at. With the right information—the right leverage—the world will dance to your tune without you ever pulling a trigger.

Don't get me wrong, I've buried plenty of bodies.

Information is the end goal, but it's rarely easy to come by. That’s what makes it so effective. That’s why my primary business strategy is secrets. They’re precious commodities that have made me very wealthy and highly feared. Knowledge not only keeps me alive but also allows me to live comfortably at the top of the food chain.

Even seemingly benign bits of information can prove valuable, such as last week when a little bird told me the Lucciano and Moretti families had agreed to a marriage alliance. This was a development worth my attention. Fortunately, I’ve developed a rudimentary web of sources in the short time I’ve been back in New York City. They gather my intel from listening devices to rats who leak all sorts of things for a few extra bucks.

It didn't take long for me to learn that Isa Costa had agreed to marry Mazzi Antonelli on behalf of the Moretti crime family.

Isa.

When I say the discovery winded me, I mean it was a steel-toed boot to the dick.

Until last week, it’d been twenty goddamn years since I’d seen her, so the fact that I was affected at all pisses me the fuck off. My childhood had long since been wrapped in duct tape, bound in barbed wire, and relegated to the recesses of my past.