Page 4 of Don't Let Go

I was done thinking about my father tonight. He could have the state of Arizona. Hell, he could impress the entire country. From now on, I’m going my own way.

2

Aurora

It was a blood moon.

Nothing good ever happened on a full moon. Tonight wasn’t any different.

My best friend, Chloe, laughed as she smoked her vape. “Don’t you love these games boys play to see whose dick is bigger?”

Tonight was one of the rare occasions an initiation took place to earn a standing within the mafia. It was a low-ranking position, but you could always work your way up once you were in. The hardest part was to prove you belonged in the “family”.

A circle of cars created the ring for the initiation, and a few had their headlights on to help illuminate the night. We had a front-row seat at the event. I glanced at the guys as they prepared to start, talking and punching the air like some oldRockyfilm.

I kicked a rock away from my Charger’s front tire and leaned against the car’s side. My left hand pressed against the still-warm hood to keep my balance as I tipped my head back to watch a falling star. “You know the drill for a new member. It’s always the same kind of game. You’d think by now people would learn the house always wins.”

The Carbones were the family to fear on the western side of the United States. They were the top tier of the Italian mob, and they had their hands in everything from money laundering to the illegal trade of weapons, drugs, and people. Thank God I wasn’t born a Carbone, but my family was in close ties with them, and once you’re considered “family”, there’s no way out.

It was tradition to allow new members to try to convince the mob you were worth the trouble. The Carbones believed your biological family wasn’t the only way to show your allegiance, but it was the fastest way to work your way up the ladder.

“These guys have no idea what they are getting into,” I whispered. The three guys were all in their late teens or early twenties. They had so much life to live—trying to get into the mob always brought your life expectancy down drastically.

Chloe took a long drag of her vape and winked at one of the recruits. With her slim body, shoulder-length blonde hair with blue streaks, hazel eyes, and a killer smile with her signature ruby-red lips, that boy was a goner.

“It’s a shame only one will make the cut, and it’s doubtful he’ll survive for long. I overheard Bones saying there’s a hot trade coming up, but they are worried it’s a police sting, so they don’t want anyone valuable anywhere near it.”

“I’m sure if shit went down, I’ll get wind of it.” My eyes drifted over to my older brothers, Francesco, aka Franco, and Lorenzo. A lot of people can’t tell them apart because they’re twins, but I can. It’s all about their personality. They think they’re coolerthan me since they’re four years older, but I’m much wiser than them.

They stood across the way, holding beer bottles and flirting with girls. They lived on cloud nine because they made it into the family fold earlier than most and now assisted our mamma with her “cleaning” business.

I stared at the black-tipped French manicure on my fingernails. “Ugh. I hope my mamma doesn’t want my help if things go south. I just got my nails done.”

Chloe squished her lips to the side. “Tough girl. You need to figure out what you’re doing before you end up the next cleaner and problem fixer like your mamma. But your shitty boyfriend is not the answer.” Her eyes drifted across the parking lot, and she narrowed them when she saw what she swore was the scum of the earth. I didn’t have to see who she gave the evil eye to. It was Paolo, my boyfriend.

“Girl, I know I’m in deep shit.” I chewed on my bottom lip and tugged on the hem of my burgundy skirt, trying but failing to make the material cover more of my thighs. The wind chill was a little too cold for my liking.

I looked past my brothers to see Paolo and his friends laughing as they gathered around a phone. Paolo loved it when I wore my skirts for these kinds of events. He called me his arm candy. It made me sick to my stomach, but I had to lie in the bed I made. Paolo had been my boyfriend since the start of freshman year, and he wanted us to graduate as high school sweethearts. But his sweetness had soured over the past couple of years, and he being a Carbone made it near impossible for me to cut ties.

Paolo must’ve felt our eyes on him because he glanced in my direction and lifted his beer in greeting. He sure knew how to put on a show. I smiled and nodded at him before tearing my attention away and watching the three recruits beaten within an inch of their lives. The first trial was to see how the recruitscould take a severe beating. The one Chloe flirted with spit out a mouthful of blood and maybe even a tooth before he timed out.

Chloe shook her head. “Pathetic. When will I find a man who can handle this shit?” She gestured to the chaotic scene before us.

I shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I’m with a Carbone. I have my own issues.”

She laughed and tried to cover it up with a cough. “You never listen. I told you to turn that boy down when he came sniffing around.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m a fool. I’m aware.” How was I to know the boy who used to give me a rose every day and text me good night and good morning with cute memes would turn into a controlling psychopath who saw me as nothing more than a status symbol?

Chloe dropped her vape into her clutch and hit my arm with her elbow. “Speak of the devil.”

Paolo headed our way with a fresh beer in his hand. I scanned the crowd for my brothers, hoping I could maybe hang out with them, but they disappeared.

“Hey, Rory.” Paolo did a once-over, making sure my look fit his expectations. “You’re lookin’ good.” He pressed himself into me, pinning me between his body and the side of my car. The metal frame dug into the back of my legs.

“Thanks, babe.” I put my palms onto the hood of my car and slid myself up to try to add space between us. He took it as an invitation and placed one of his legs between mine, making my skirt ride up a little.

“Paolo, please.” I tugged on my skirt’s hem, but it wouldn’t budge.

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