Page 22 of Niccolaio Andretti (The Five Syndicates)
Behind him, all of his companions tense, but I had to ask the question. I could tell that he was waiting for it, and it was a welcome olive branch of trust between the two of us. We both knew I was thinking the question, and by verbalizing that thought, I showed honesty, which can only help in this situation. Even if my particular brand of honesty happens to involve premeditative murder.
He smirks. “If you shoot me and save your brother, you two will be the new targets. Right now, it’s Luca Andretti. If I don’t return, my men will tell the Romano caporegimes what happened. You’ll be marked for death.” He pauses dramatically. “Your brother will be marked for death.”
I don’t even have to consider it before I nod. It’s a fair offer, fairer than anyone in this household, with the exception of Ranie, deserves. Uncle Luca’s life for Ranie’s. I’ll take it. Hell, if given the choice, I think Uncle Luca would trade his life for Ranie’s, too. Either way, it doesn’t matter.
I’m the one who’s here right now.
I’m the one who has to make this decision, and I’m choosing Ranie.
Always.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Asher?” one of the older guys asks the leader.
A flash of irrit
ation, of condescension, flits across the guy’s—Asher’s—face. He doesn’t say anything. He wordlessly takes off his bullet proof gear and the weapons he has on him, even the small knife he has hidden at his ankle. He hands his things to his men, and after a moment, the three guys retreat.
When they’re gone, I silently lead Asher a few rooms down, where Uncle Luca’s room is. I ignore the burden of my betrayal, which lays heavy against my heart, and focus myself on my objective—saving Ranieri. And somewhere between this second and the last, I’ve shut myself off from the world, tampering my emotions along with my hope.
I know with absolute certainty that after I open this door nothing in my life will ever be the same again.
Taking a deep breath, I enter the 16-digit passcode and place my palm on the scanner. When the steel door opens with a soft and ominous swish, we’re greeted by the sound of Uncle Luca’s light snoring.
Perhaps it’s the impending death or maybe even the weight of the guilt on my conscience, but the sound sends an unrelenting barrage of memories my way.
Drawing on Uncle Luca’s face with a five-year-old Ranie, Uncle Luca snores drowning out our innocent giggles.
Crawling into Uncle Luca’s bed at the tender age of five, because my father was less welcoming, and even my mother believed that men don’t cry. Apparently, five year olds were considered to be men.
Clutching Uncle Luca’s hand as Ranie and I watched our mother’s body get lowered into the ground, her body too riddled with bullet holes for an open casket viewing earlier that day, which was a common occurrence in this lifestyle.
I force myself to tamper down the stem of memories, unwilling to weaken my resolve. Ranie first. Ironically, it was Uncle Luca himself who first taught me that. With time, I eventually grew into the role of the protector, but before that happened, it was Uncle Luca who had taught me all I knew about love, family and loyalty.
The same Uncle Luca that Asher is approaching, a gleam of darkness and vengeance in his eyes that has my stomach rolling with unease. And I suspect that, however Asher plans on killing Uncle Luca, it will be slow, and it will be painful.
And Uncle Luca doesn’t deserve that.
So, without a moment of hesitation, I raise my gun and pull the trigger.
After the initial boom, there’s a moment of silence, where Asher’s eyes widen and we stare at one another. I break the eye contact by turning around, forcibly resisting the urge to vomit. I don’t look at Uncle Luca’s dead body. I don’t think I can stomach it.
Instead, I exit the room with Asher close at my heels.
And there, standing alone in the hallway, bleary eyed and disoriented from sleep, is Ranie. He looks between me and Asher, confused. But then, he does a double take, and I know what he sees.
He sees me.
He sees Asher.
He sees a gun.
And it’s in my hands.
Chapter Nine
Anger is an acid
that can do more harm
