Page 75 of Satin Empire

I get down on one knee in front of him. He stares at me with a mixture of terror and yearning, the death-drive in him so strong it’s taking over his body. His hands tremble and his mouth tries to form words, but he can’t make a sound. This man is proof of how far the Rossi Famiglia will go to get what they want, a living sacrifice to our family’s power and security, and I almost pity the wretch. Except he took Dante, he tried to hurt my wife, and the fire in my guts haven’t been doused, and I doubt they ever will.

“You used to sit at the table,” I say softly. “You remember that, don’t you? The council table? You, Finnian, the big three Italian families. Look at you now. The Lynch organization is dead. Your Bratva is burned to the ground. The Italians are now more closely allied than they ever were before, and our power is growing by the minute while you’re starving to death in our basement. All because you wanted more.”

“Please,” he whispers, huddled around himself. “Please.” His eyes close and I’m not even sure he can understand me at this point.

I stand and take a step back. Gian comes forward and joins us. Renzo pushes away from the door with a sigh and takes his place at the front of our group, a gun held outstretched in one hand, barrel aimed at Jasha’s head.

“Enough,” he says. “The war’s done. This is just clean-up.”

Jasha’s eyes go wide. His face twists in ecstasy and fear, and the explosion the gun makes in the cramped basement reverberates through my ears as the Russian’s body slumps to the floor, his soul finally excised from this world.

We stand in a strange, reverent silence for a few seconds. Jasha Aslanov was our enemy, likely the greatest enemy we’ve ever faced, but I still feel a strange measure of respect for the man. If he’d had more resources, if he’d been a little bit luckier, things might be very different right now and it could be my head splattered against the wall instead.

“I’ll send some guys to clean this up,” Saul says, turning away.

“We should’ve done it sooner,” Gian says and follows him. “But oh, well. Who’s up for some wine? The girls are sitting out back.”

“I’ll be there in a second,” I say as my brothers leave the basement. I stay behind, staring at Jasha’s corpse, the smell of his death filling my nostrils with a disgusting reek. I can’t seem to make myself leave—I keep thinking about Alana in that bathroom, convinced she was going to die, and even though she’s doing great now and her first day of college is coming up soon, I can’t seem to get rid of this helpless feeling in my stomach.

“Carlo.” I turn and Renzo’s still standing in the doorway, watching me. His eyes are hooded and his face is wreathed in shadow.

My older brother is a good Don, but leadership comes with a weight that’s slowly dragging him down, stooping his shoulders and curving his spine and changing him into something more like our father: hard, uncaring, ruthless. I still love him, and I want to make sure he doesn’t complete the transformation, but I don’t know how to help.

“I’m fine,” I say and try to give him a casual smile, but can’t manage it. “It’s done now, right? I should feel relief, but instead I’m just standing here wondering what the hell I’m going to do with myself.”

“You wanted this.”

“I know, bro, I know.” I turn my back on Jasha’s body. “There’s nothing rational about how I feel right now.”

“You want advice?”

I make a go-ahead gesture. “Let’s hear it, Don Renzo.”

“You and your wife will only be newlyweds for a little while. Focus on her, focus on your family, and find what happiness you can, and let’s pray there isn’t another war like that in our lifetimes.”

His words send a shiver down my spine as he turns his back on me and moves to the stairs. “Wait, what do you mean, another war? Who the fuck would we fight with?”

But he doesn’t answer. I watch my brother walk away and disappear into the kitchen, heading out to rejoin his wife and his child and the rest of our brothers and sisters and children. I remain down in the basement with the dead, with the ghost of Jasha Aslanov, with his pleas still ringing through my head, and wonder what Renzo knows that he isn’t telling the rest of us.

Laughter finally draws me away. I find Alana standing with Stefania in the living room talking quietly to each other, and my wife’s practically brimming with joy, glowing from head to toe, and when she looks at me, I can feel my mood shift. The gloom is gone, and the smile comes easily now, because she’s everything to me, everything that matters.

“I was just telling your wife that she’s got a lot to look forward to as a coed,” my sister says and the look on her face suggests she’s trying to bait me.

“You’re right. She’s got a lot of studying and hard work ahead of her.”

Stefania gives Alana an exaggerated wink. “Yep. Studying.” She cackles and heads out back, joining the rest of the family, as I go over and put my arm around Alana’s shoulders.

“Don’t worry, she’s just teasing you,” my wife says, leaning into my side. “She was just telling me a story about some goofy professor she had her junior year.”

“Either way, don’t let my sister be a bad influence on you.”

“Never.” She gets up on her toes and kisses me before her face gets serious like she’s looking for something in my eyes. “Are you okay? I heard something downstairs. And the guys were saying?—”

“Everything’s okay,” I tell her and run my thumb down her cheek before pulling her into a tight hug. “Everything’s very okay.” I hold her for a little longer than I should, but having her here against my body proves that I’m right.

Everything really is okay.

“Come on, we should go join the party. It’s not every day the whole crew is here all at once.”

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