Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
25
LOUIS
History teaches us that man learns nothing from history. ——Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel
The walk wasn’t as heavy as I thought it would be.
“Seahawks are probably going to the Super Bowl,” Dante said casually.
I nodded. “Thought you liked the Saints.”
He snorted. “I lie about liking the Saints while watching Hawks games alone. And don’t get me started on the Bears.”
I chuckled. “A crime, really. They always get so close.”
“So close,” he agreed. “She likes baseball more,” he added.
The lump in my throat made it hard to breathe. “I’ll remember that.”
We kept walking. Down the hall. Past the rooms that held laughter and wine and family. Toward the basement.
The shooting range.
The gun I’d given him sat heavy at my side, nestled inside the box like an offering.
When we reached the room, I shut the door behind us.
“Soundproof?” I asked.
“Only the best.”
“Right.”
I stared at him, at the man who had just kissed his wife, hugged his children, laughed over brunch.
“I don’t know what to say.”
He studied me with that same unflinching gaze. “Words are meaningless if there’s no action to back them up.” He took a breath. “A life for a life.”
He stepped closer.
“Promise me you’ll love her through her anger. Through her tears. Through everyone’s apologies.” His voice didn’t shake. “One life is enough to take. We don’t start wars to save one—we sacrifice one to save the many.”
I felt something in my chest crack open.
“Do you understand what it means, Louis,” he asked quietly, “to truly be a man?”
Tears blurred my vision. “I’m beginning to think I don’t, sir.”
He took my hand.
Placed the gun against his chest.
Closed my fingers around the trigger.
His eyes shone, but his voice was steady.
“Being a man is protecting the weak. Doing the hard thing. Screaming when something is wrong.” He swallowed. “It’s justice. It’s letting the woman you love stand beside you—not behind you. And sometimes,” he added softly, “it’s letting her lead when you can’t think straight. When you want to think with your gun instead of your brain.”
My hands shook.
“Being a man isn’t taking control, son,” he said. “It’s letting go. Of all of it. The pain. The fear. The revenge.” His grip tightened. “Let my blood take that space in your heart—the part screaming to be heard, the child screaming to be seen. Let my blood silence it. Let yourself have peace.”
He met my eyes.
“I enter this life alive—”
Footsteps echoed.
One by one, they came.
Abandonato.
Campisi.
Nicolasi.
Petrov.
De Lange.
Sinacore.
Every family. Every debt. Every witness.
In the far corner, Phoenix stood with Cassian at gunpoint.
Good.
He’d gotten my text.
“As burns this saint,” Phoenix said, stepping forward.
King Campisi stood beside him and finished, “so burns my soul.”
Dante nodded. “I enter alive. I will exit dead.”
“Amen,” the room murmured.
He smiled at me.
Exhaled.
I pulled the trigger.
As he fell, as blood pooled and the room filled with silence, each man stepped forward. One by one, they crossed themselves making a silent gesture over their hearts. Then they turned and walked out the hidden back entrance one by fucking one.
No speeches.
No chaos.
Just powerful men saying goodbye to their family, their friend.
I stayed.
I waited.
Ten minutes.
I waited until the footsteps cleared and all that was left was Dante in a pool of blood I’d created and the sound of my own ragged breathing.
And stared at my father-in-law lying their lifeless on the floor—and I imagined my little brother, I imagined all the lives lost… for what? In honor of what? And I cried.
26
LOUIS
Even the wickedness of man is subject to law. — Immanuel Kant
It was over. Done. Tears stained my cheeks. I wondered if the trails of them would ever disappear or if I’d see them every time I looked into the mirror.
I could only stare at the blood on my shirt and the gun still in my hand. Shaking. I slowly set the gun on the mahogany desk and walked back over to him. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this.
A life for a life.
“Live well,” he’d whispered as he cut into my body making the Alfero crest. “Take care of her. Protect her even if it means you’re not by her side.”
I swore an oath.
I intended to keep it.
“I’m so fucking sorry.” My breath caught as I slowly shut his eyes. “May heaven grant you peace after a lifetime of war.” I stood to my full height and turned just in time to see Tempest stare me down.
Her eyes flickered to her father.
She didn’t scream, but I could tell she wanted to.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “No other way.”
“None,” I whispered. “It was either me or someone else, Tempest. Try to understand that at the very least. Your father did, he—”
“Don’t tell me what he understood like he’s alive, like he told you secrets he never told me, like it actually fucking matters anymore.” She walked over and shakily jerked out of her white coat and laid it over his body. “Did he die well?”