Page 18 of Savage Angels

As we shake hands, I can’t help but think about the life I have chosen. The Abruzzi family is more than a crime syndicate—some of them are like family. By doing what I’m doing, I hope everyone involved can see that. The Don’s way of doing things is the old way, and we need to change for the future. I would do anything to protect those who are loyal to me, even if it means getting into bed with the devil himself.

“Let’s hope this works, Sal,” Dane mutters. “For all our sakes.”

He opens the door and steps into the chaos of the garage. The roar of engines fills the air as his men prepare to ride out. They are ready for war, but I hope he can make them see reason.

***

The buzz of conversation fills Don Abruzzi’s favorite restaurant as I sit at his usual table, waiting for him to arrive. My heart pounds hard, but I keep my face calm and impassive. This is it—the moment that will change everything.

Finally, the doors swing open, and there he is, strutting into the place like he owns it, which, in a way, he does. As soon as he steps inside, the noise dies down as if every person in the room knows what is about to happen. He scans the crowd, his eyes finally landing on me.

“Sal,” he greets, his voice dripping with false warmth as he approaches the table.

“Evening, Don Abruzzi,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral.

“Do you think your friends outside scare me? Those bikers?” He chuckles.

“You underestimate them and me.”

The Don smirks and flicks a hand in the air. “If you lay down with dogs, Sal, you’ll get fleas, or worse, put down like the mongrels they are.”

He sits across from me, seemingly unfazed by the sudden silence in the restaurant. One by one, tables begin to clear out. No one speaks, but they do not need to. The message is clear. The last three tables left are occupied by the heads of the Bianchi, Santoro, and Fontana families. Each gives Don Abruzzi a two-fingered wave as they leave the restaurant, an unspoken signal to the man who has ruled them for decades.

I can see realization dawn on him, but instead of fear, he grins. “If you do this, Sal, you’ll never be Don,” he tells me, leaning back in his chair as if accepting his fate.

“Who said anything about me doing it?” I smile back, my grin deadly and cold.

In that instant, Lorenzo appears behind Don Abruzzi, swiftly wrapping a garrote around his neck. The Don’s eyes widen in surprise, but there’s no escaping his fate now.

I watch, unflinching, as the life drains from his face. His fingers claw at the wire, and his eyes bulge as he twists and turns, trying to escape the inevitable. Lorenzo tightens the wire, and it slices through Don Abruzzi’s neck. Blood runs over the white tablecloth, turning it into a deep crimson. Lorenzo puts a knee to the Don’s back, pulls harder, and with a grunt, pulls the wire all the way through to his spine. He drops the small wooden handles on the end of the wire, then spits on Don Abruzzi.

Now that it is over, I take a sip of wine, dabbing the corners of my mouth with a napkin. Standing, I pat Lorenzo on the shoulder then make my way through the restaurant to the back door.

Night has fallen as I slide into my car. The restaurant goes up in flames, an orange glow reflecting off the windshield. I should feel relief that Don Abruzzi is dead, but all I can think about is the danger I have put my family in. Some families will honor our understanding, but others won’t hesitate to strike back at me or those I love.

“Fuck,” I say to myself as I tightly grip the steering wheel.

The world I knew is burning before me. There is no turning back now.

***

In a dimly lit room, smoke from burning cigars hangs like a thick fog. I can hear the distant murmur of conversations and the clinking of whiskey glasses. Dane and I sit at a secluded table near the back, our faces partially obscured by shadows.

“Look, Dane…” my voice is low and steady. “The Abruzzis are out of the picture now, and that means there’s an open seat at the table for you and your MC. But I have to warn you, the way we do things here is not the same as how it is with the Savage Angels. We have old ways, understand?”

Dane leans back in his chair, his blue eyes seemingly piercing through the haze as he considers my words. He looks like he is weighing his options, trying to figure out if this is the path he wants to take. His thoughts are hidden behind those intense eyes, but I know he will not take this choice lightly.

“Sal…” he finally speaks, his deep voice resonating throughout the room, “… I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want a permanent seat at your table. My loyalty is to my MC, and that’s where it’s going to stay. Don’t get me wrong… we’ll work with you and the other families as long as my men aren’t used as pawns and are paid well for their time and muscle.”

I cannot help but respect the man. He knows who he is and where he stands, and there is something commendable about that. The world we live in is not black and white, and finding someone with a clear sense of identity is rare.

“Fair enough.” I nod in agreement.

Deep down, I anticipated this response from him. He is a man of principle, and I respect that.

As I sip my whiskey, I cannot shake the feeling we’re still walking a tightrope with danger lurking in the shadows. The Abruzzis might be gone, but there will always be someone waiting to take their place. And when that time comes, I know Dane and his MC will have my back.

“Here’s to our new alliance,” I say, raising my glass.

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